Military Romance Collection

by E Cleveland

  “I told you I was innocent,” he steps toward me, as if he’s cleared everything up. Like this is all just water under the bridge now because his career is back on track.

  “Cameron,” I step back from him, “the charges, the rumors, that was never what this was about. I didn’t take this time from you because of that.”

  I watch Cameron battle with the confusion surrounding his brain. He looks at me like he’s trying to read a map, but he’s not exactly sure which way is north or south.

  “Well, then what is all this about?” He swirls his finger in a circle between us, mimicking the cyclone of emotions I’m being swept away by right now inside me.

  I hate that tears have already sprung to my eyes. My damned body is so out of control lately. I’ve always been what you’d call sensitive, but this little bean sprouting in my womb has brought me to new heights. Every Hallmark Christmas movie on tv has had me going through a box of Kleenex like I just watched Schindler’s List. Every sad song on the radio, every time I’ve watched a couple walk hand in hand down the sidewalk, fresh tears spring forth. It’s like I have an endless well of sentimentality to tap with every cheesy moment I’ve witnessed in life.

  “It’s about the fact that I’ve never, ever come first. Not once, Cameron,” my voice hurts as I force my vocal chords to work. I keep trying to swallow the tears threatening to bombard me and am barely keeping them at bay.

  “What? What do you mean?” He lays his hand on my shoulder and the warmth of comfort radiates through my body.

  “I mean, something else has always meant more to you. First it was the other girls, then it was football,” I start counting off on my fingers, “then it was protecting your brother. If anything else has been happening in your life then it’s always meant more to you than me. I can’t live like that. I can’t be with someone who cares less about us than himself. Or his brother. Or his game. Or his old harem. I just can’t,” the tears slide down my cheeks. “Especially now,” I sob.

  “Chelsea! That’s not true. You’ve always meant more to me than anything. Everything! Wait,” he scratches the stubble on his rugged jaw, “what do you mean by ‘us’? Why ‘especially now’?” He furrows his brow like someone struggling to make it through their calculus portion of the SAT’s.

  I look at the way the moon glints off the snow under our feet, unable to look him in the eyes. I haven’t told him yet about my baby. About our baby. The miracle that I never thought I’d have.

  “Cameron, I don’t know how you’re gonna take this,” I tell my boots, “but, I’m pregnant.” I look up at him and wince as he frowns deeply at me.

  “You’re… wait, what?”

  “I’m pregnant. With your child. I had the bloodwork done and an ultrasound. I’m definitely, 100% pregnant.” I spill my secret, the reason beneath my exhausted Mona Lisa smile. I wish it felt like a weight being lifted from my shoulders, but with his face downturned like that, it doesn’t. If anything, the burden of his disapproval is adding to the already heavy gravity around me.

  “Pregnant?” He rolls the word over his tongue, like he’s trying to learn a new language. “You? But you can’t have kids. You told me…” his eyes search for the answers his mouth won’t ask.

  “I didn’t lie to you. I was told I was sterile years ago, trust me, this,” I point to my belly, “was a complete shock. I didn’t believe my doctor so that’s why she gave me an ultrasound and Cameron,” I exclaim, “I heard the heartbeat! It was the most amazing sound I’ve ever heard. I still dream about it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” He presses his lips into a pencil thin line that makes my heart thud like I just walked through a haunted house.

  “I didn’t know if you were ready for this. For us,” I rub my hand over my belly, finding comfort in the little bean growing inside me. “Do you remember when we first spent time together? That first night? I told you I couldn’t have children. Do you remember what you said?” I prod his memory.

  “No, not exactly,” his face is unreadable.

  “You told me that I was better off. That they were a pain in the ass, messy, gross and that it was a good thing I couldn’t have kids.” I paraphrase his words.

  Cameron looks down at the snow so long I begin to wonder if he’s gone comatose on me. The frosty air nips at my nose, but I ignore my discomfort. I need to know, what is he thinking?

  “Listen,” he finally disrupts the painful silence, “I know I said those things.” He nods at me, his fingers press into his jacket pocket. “I said it because…”

  “Because it was the nice thing to say to a barren girl?” I interrupt.

  “No,” he throws his hand up like a stop sign at a school crossing. “I didn’t know it at the time, Chelsea, but the reason I said those things wasn’t because I didn’t want children. It was because I was trying to comfort the love of my life. I wanted to make her, to make you,” he stresses, “feel better, because even then, even that first night, I knew I fucking loved you.” He swallows hard and I feel my chin quiver at his confession.

  “Really?” My eyes line with tears as I search his face. All the bravado, the smirkiness, the usual act… it’s gone. All I can see is raw emotion staring back at me, like a mirror.

  “Yes,” his voice is heavy, burdened with truth. “Chelsea, listen to me. I know I didn’t put you, put us,” he stresses, “first enough. “You’re right. I didn’t.”

  My lips turn down as my eyebrows soar up. The pain of being a backburner girl in the life of man I’ve loved from day one hurts. It’s a deeper pain than the year I broke my arm falling off a zip line in my friend’s backyard. It burns deeper than sticking my hand against coals of a fire. Cameron has been first in my life since our first night. To struggle to be even next to the other things he’s put ahead of me all this time has shredded my soul.

  “I know,” I answer shakily.

  “I think I’ve been hanging around a bunch of college kids so much, I forgot that I’m a man. Not a damned child. Chelsea,” he slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a small, velvet box.

  I don’t have time to react before he slides down to one knee. I want to squeal. I want to jump up and down. Instead, I watch in fascinated silence.

  “Chelsea, you’re the only woman I’ve ever met that made me want to be a better man. I wake up everyday thinking about how I can do better, how I can be better, just so I can justify your love. I know I haven’t always been the best at showing you, but please… please, let me spend every single day of my life making up for my foolish mistake. Let me spend what’s left of my time here on earth showing you, showing both of you,” his hand on my belly gently, “the man I know I can be. The man you’ve helped me become,” he leans his forehead against my barely protruding belly and holds the open box up high, under my face.

  Inside gleams a diamond ring I’d never picture myself wearing. It’s too big. Too expensive. Too flashy. And yet, it’s perfect. It’s exactly the yin and yang of Cameron and me. His flash with my class.

  “Yes,” I answer simply. My hand trembles as I hold it out for him. He slides the ring over my finger gently and I watch as each inch he pushes the ring down my finger declares me as his fiancée rather than girlfriend, backburner girl or groupie.

  I will be Cameron Armstrong’s wife. The mother of his child. The love of his life and he mine.

  He stands back up in the snow and quickly slides his hands under my body, lifting me from the ground and holding me over the snow.

  “How about I warm you up, Mrs. Armstrong,” he murmurs.

  “I think I’d like that,” I flutter my eyelashes at him.

  As he opens the door and walks me over the threshold for the first time in my life, I feel whole. With a man who wants me for eternity and our baby growing in my womb, this feels like a fairy tale come true. I nuzzle in against his neck and let myself enjoy the moment. A moment I know I will cherish in my heart for years to come. But only one of many that Cameron Armstrong, my future husband,
father of my child, will surprise me with from now until I die.

  44

  Cameron

  “You are glowing,” my mother admires Chelsea from across the hotel restaurant table. “Don, isn’t she just radiant?” She prods my father.

  “What? Uh, yeah. You’re looking great,” Dad answers as he scoops up his last fork full of salmon.

  My mother is right, Chelsea has always been beautiful, but now that she’s pregnant, she’s shining brighter than the diamond resting on her ring finger.

  “You are gorgeous,” I murmur to her. I push my empty plate away from me and wrap my arm around Chelsea’s shoulders.

  “Thank you,” she looks up from under her eyelashes bashfully. “I don’t know about glowing,” she talks to Mom, “but definitely sweating in this heat. My body isn’t doing to well with the transition from Colorado to California in winter.”

  “Oh nonsense,” Mom scoffs. “You aren’t sweating at all. I’ll tell you what though, if you want to cool down, how about you and I hit up the pool after lunch? Don won’t go swimming with me, and I’d love the company.”

  “Sure, that sounds great. I think this one,” Chelsea jerks her thumb at me playfully, “has big plans of lying around all afternoon anyway.”

  “Yeah, well the Rose Bowl is tomorrow,” I protest. “This isn’t a mini-vacay for me, like it is for some people. Little Miss Spa day.” I wink at her.

  Chelsea smiles broadly and my heart skips a beat. There is no man on this earth luckier than me. Even if I lose the game tomorrow, even if it all goes to shit, I will still be walking tall as long as I have my beautiful fiancée on my arm.

  “Well, we couldn’t be happier than you invited us to your big game, honey. It’s something else to be able to watch you play. I can’t wait,” Mom gushes.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “How about we go get our swimsuits on and let the guys sort out the bill?” Mom nods at Chelsea.

  “Sounds good to me,” she agrees. The mother of my unborn child leans in and quickly kisses me on the cheek before disappearing with my mother from the table. I can’t help but watch her walk away, the view is just too good to pass up.

  “How about I just charge this to my room, Dad? I should really go get rested up as much as I can,” I start to stand up but my father reaches across the table and grabs my hand. I don’t mean to frown, but it’s so unexpected, it catches me off guard.

  “Can you sit with me a minute?” Dad looks up at me and my knees instantly buckle. I plop back down in my seat and wait for him to speak. I haven’t seen his face so somber since he broke the news to my brother and I that Pop-pop passed away.

  “Sure, what’s going on?” I peer into his face for answers.

  Dad releases my hand and clearly struggles to find his tongue. “I, uh, well… I needed to talk to you, son.”

  My heart squeezes in my chest at the earnestness on his face.

  “Ok.”

  “Listen, I know I haven’t always been the best father to you, Cameron. In fact, you’ve deserved much better than me,” he clears his throat and it occurs to me for the first time that my father is trying not to cry.

  “Dad, you don’t have to…”

  I stop as he holds up his hand to silence me. Whatever he wants to say, he’s bound and determined to get it out.

  “I do. I want to tell you this. Please, let me.” He meets my eyes and I nod in compliance.

  “OK. You’ve got it.”

  “Like I was saying, I know I should’ve done better by you. The truth is, I always took to Jake because I was intimidated by you, I think.”

  “What?” I can’t believe my ears.

  “It’s true. From the time you were about twelve-years-old, I knew you’d make something great of yourself. Something better than I could ever have a hand in. You always blazed your own trail, and that scared me, because I didn’t know how to guide you down a path I’d never traveled.” Dad stares down at his hands like he’s watching a movie on a cellphone. Finally, he looks up at me and I can see the tears he’s been fighting lining his eyes.

  “Dad, it’s ok,” I try to reassure him.

  “No, please, let me finish,” he insists.

  I close my mouth and wait for him to get his emotions back under control.

  “You know, you like to say that the only time I was ever proud of you was when you joined the Army,” he meets my eyes. “It’s not true. That was actually the most disappointed I ever was in you,” he confesses. “It was also when I realized I failed you as a father.”

  “What are you talking about?” I try not to raise my voice, but definitely fail.

  “I never wanted you to chase after my dreams, Cameron. I knew you were too talented to enlist, especially just to make me happy. It felt like a kick in the teeth, because I knew that I let you down. If I would’ve just supported you more, if I would’ve tried harder, then you never would’ve joined the Army in the first place.” His shoulders hunch over in defeat.

  “That’s not true,” I interrupt. “Yeah, I did join because I wanted you to be proud of me, but also because I wanted to be proud of myself. It was important to me to fight, and I did my time on the ground, like I wanted to, and then moved on. It wasn’t just for you, Dad.”

  “Really?” He watches me closely.

  “Really.”

  “That’s a relief, Cameron. It really is,” he breathes deep. “I’m glad you cleared that up for me. I want to tell you, son. I was wrong. I was wrong about Jake, I was wrong about you, I was wrong to treat you both so differently. I made a lot of mistakes in this life, but that is one that I’ll always regret. I just hope that, in time, you can forgive me,” his voice wavers and I feel a lump grow in my throat.

  “I do, Dad. I do forgive you.” I try to keep my own emotions in check.

  “I love you, Cameron. I know I’ve been a shit father at showing it, but it’s always been true. I love you, and I’m proud of you.” He quickly swipes the back of his hand over his misty eyes.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  Dad clears his throat loudly, “OK then, I’m glad we talked.” He looks at me, “now go get your rest, so you can get out there and kick some ass tomorrow!” He barks at me like the old, retired General that he is.

  A smile spreads over my face, “yes, Sir!”

  45

  Cameron

  We’re running out the clock. With a 45-7 score we’re completely crushing this game. It’s done. The Rose Bowl is ours. We’re just waiting for the last couple of seconds to disappear from the clock so we can take what’s ours.

  My eyes scan the seats. Where is she? I twist my head to the special seating and a calm washes over me when I see her gorgeous smile. There she is. There they are. I manage to tear my gaze from the only woman in here who literally radiates sex and beauty like a beacon from the stands. I look next to her and see my mother’s sweet smile. Mom has her hands clasped together and is shaking them over her head in victory. My chest gets tight as I see my father right next to her, giving me a thumbs up.

  I stick my thumb up in the air back at him as pride fills my chest like wind filling a sail. My mind wanders back to last night when we all had supper at the hotel restaurant together. After the bill was paid and we were leaving the table, my father grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him. I wasn’t sure what he wanted when he placed his hand on the back of my neck and I leaned in to listen to him whisper “I’m proud of you, Son.”

  It took all I had to keep it together. Damn it, just thinking about it has me choked up all over again!

  After I took Chelsea to our room and made love to her like a man heading off to war, we lay twisted in each other’s arms. “I hope our baby has your eyes,” she told me.

  “Yeah? Well, I hope the baby has your heart,” I answered back.

  My attention snaps back to the moment as the stadium of fans is cheering around my head like a halo of angels. My guys line up with me at the helm. This is it. The last ten seconds
of my college football career is about to count down.

  “Thirty-six, twenty-four! Hut, hut, hut!” I scream over the roar of the crowd, directly into Driscoll’s ass.

  As my center snaps the ball back into my waiting hands, I take a knee for the final play of my college career. The seconds countdown like lifetimes on the clock. Each number moving downward as a great-grandfather leaves this earth and a baby returns in his place. Like the circle of life, like the natural progression, the clock counts down its numbers. While announcing the death of my college years, it’s also announcing the birth of my NFL career to come.

  The crowd pours out onto the field like beer from a frosh keg. I look up into the stands and see my family.

  MY family.

  Not only is my future wife and my unborn child up in the players’ family seats enjoying the win, let alone the California weather, but so are my mother and father too.

  I spike the ball unnecessarily into the ground.

  I.Fucking.Did.It!

  This is the end.

  This is the beginning.

  This is it!

  I look up at my parents and open my mouth wide in a victory scream. “Yeaaahhhhh!” I haphazardly move around in a circle like a junior high kid excited to show off his latest dance moves.

  The boys surge around me as champagne and Gatorade rain from the sky. I stick out my tongue. I’m desperate to feel the combination on my skin. It’s like a recipe shared with only the winners. Like this moment, this second in my life can somehow be turned into a cookie or a wine.

  It can’t.

  The only thing, scratch that… the only person who can make this moment worth its weight in gold is glowing up there in the stands. Hand on her belly, face turned up to God, she’s the angel I never deserved. The woman who will soon be my wife.

  Lucky man.

  Those words don’t cover this moment.