Chapter 31

[vibe track: be your love west coast massive remix - bishop briggs]

Cameron blinked awake, hoping to feel Henry still in her arms. But they were empty.

It wasn’t unusual for him to be gone when she woke up. Of course, usually it was a school day, not a Sunday. She was hoping he would still be there so she could apologize, could tell him to his face that she was sorry for being so childish ... again.

With a sigh, she rolled over to her nightstand and checked her phone. It was a little after 9. Too early for her, but sleeping in for Henry. So not that weird he wasn’t there. Still ... she hoped he hadn’t been upset to wake up in her arms. Or too upset that he hadn’t fallen asleep in them.

It was a little unusual for Da Vinci not to have sauntered in and taken up residence either in the warm spot vacated by Henry or on the pillow, doing his best to suffocate Cameron. Her eyes flicked to the closed door. That was unusual too.

She heaved another sigh, then slowly swung herself out of bed, yawning into a stretch that would have made Da Vinci proud. Or envious.

Probably envious. I don’t think cats get proud of somebody else.

The dim light outside those familiarly ugly beige curtains said it was a cloudy, lazy Sunday morning. That suited Cameron just fine.

Maybe we can watch a shitty movie. If he even wants to be around me anymore. He can pick it, though. Because, you know, that’ll totally make up for ... everything.

She poked through the small, untidy pile of her leftover clothes against the wall, nearest her side of the bed, and grabbed the least dirty combination of the gray tanktops and matching panties there.

Is that all I wear?

Her eyes drifted across the dresser, lingering on the drawer she knew was full of framed memories.

I wonder if Mal left any clothes behind. Not that they would fit me.

Come to think of it, she wasn’t actually sure Mal had ever lived here. Did they live in this house? Another thing she didn’t know — and didn’t really want to.

Catching sight of her own legs in that damn mirror as she slipped on some socks with only a couple of small holes, she couldn’t help but think of Mallory’s legs — an unwelcome comparison, she thought.

The rest of her wasn’t much more impressive. Her hair was crusted with dry sweat and matted from the pillow where it wasn’t sticking in all directions. She patted it down a little but could only do so much. The eyes looking back at her were still red with sleep, dehydration, and maybe the leftovers of last night’s dried tears.

After a few moments, Cameron turned the mirror around, shaking her head. She couldn’t get stuck in a Mal trap and a self-loathing spiral before the morning even hit double digits.

Enough of that fucking thing.

She decided against sweatpants, even though it was always a little chillier in Henry’s place than it was at her stuffy apartment. Her legs might not look good to her, but she knew Henry had a differing opinion. And she figured she’d take all the help she could get this morning.

In the hallway, she yawned again, rubbing her eyes with her palms as she stepped out into the kitchen.

And stiffened when she heard a woman’s voice — then heard the woman’s voice abruptly stop.

Mal?

Her heart skipped a beat and her hands shot down from her face so she could see.

No. It wasn’t Mal. Of course it wasn’t Mal. She felt ridiculous for even thinking it, and implored her heart to stop beating so damn fast, hoping the wild look in her scratchy eyes didn’t betray what she’d been fearing.

The woman sitting at the kitchen table, one hand on Henry’s and another around a coffee mug, was tall — even seated, Cameron could tell that. She was older, thin, and had short, dark brown hair that was longer than Cameron’s around the sides but shorter on top with a distinguished-looking streak of white in front. The majority of her hair and her eyes matched her billowing, dark brown blouse.

She looked vaguely familiar, but Cameron couldn’t quite place her — especially not when she was shocked to find anyone waiting in the kitchen besides Henry.

Frozen in mid-sentence, the woman appeared as shocked to see Cameron as Cameron was to see her.

Henry turned around in his chair and blushed a little bit when he saw Cameron, getting up to greet her. His hair was sticking out like he hadn’t showered yet and he was wearing a worn-looking T-shirt and sweatpants.

Reflexively, that little smile was forming at the corner of his mouth as he approached her, but it stopped in its tracks — like he was unsure of whether it would be welcomed. Cameron, though, couldn’t imagine a time when she wouldn’t want to see that smile — for me.

Henry cleared his throat awkwardly as the woman picked up her chin and readjusted into a bit of an astonished grin.

“Brooke,” Henry said, looking at the woman, then turning to Cameron, “this is ... umm, my girlfriend, Cameron.” He gestured to Brooke. “Cameron, this is my much older sister, Brooke.” He gave a weak smile, still not sure how in the mood Cameron would be for little jokes, she figured.

At least I’m still his girlfriend.

Brooke’s eyes only got wider and her chin almost dropped again.

The nose was different — a lot of the face, really. But her eyes. She could see Henry in there all right. Now that she knew, it was hard to miss, even from a distance.

Cameron gave a small one-motion wave, still squinting a little at the light. “Hey,” she said, morning still dripping from her voice.

Brooke was much more enthusiastic with her “Hi!” She was grinning ear-to-ear while she looked Cameron over.

“Sorry,” Henry mumbled, close to Cameron now. Cameron turned her eyes to him. “I didn’t know she was coming ‘til she was already on her way.” He shrugged.

Brooke piped up from the table. “Well somebody didn’t tell me there was anything I might interrupt!” She took another sip of her coffee while Henry seemed to awkwardly gauge Cameron’s mood.

Unfrozen, she didn’t really want to think about the surprise visitor right now. One thing at a time — and there was a higher priority.

She closed the little remaining distance between her and Henry and took his face in her hands softly, looking into his deep brown eyes. A few tiny red veins showed he hadn’t had any better sleep than Cameron had.

I’m sorry.

His cheeks got a little redder, probably from having such an intimate moment in front of his sister. Cameron didn’t really care. Her forehead made contact with his as she leaned in, their eyes still locked on one another’s. Then she hugged him tightly, pulling him close, and rested her head on the shoulder his sister couldn’t see. Or at least Cameron hoped she couldn’t.

“I was an idiot,” she whispered out loud, hopefully quietly enough that only he could hear. She was sure he knew what she’d meant without speaking the words, but she wanted to anyway. Cameron cradled his head, reaching up to the back of his neck. She felt his hand caressing her back in return. She hoped that meant he hadn’t given up on her.

Yet, anyway.

“I’m sorry, Cameron,” she heard him say in a whispered murmur to her back. “I was ... I was just so... weak when she showed up that night.”

How could he possibly think he has anything to apologize for?

Cameron pushed the fresh guilt churning inside her aside as best she could. That wouldn’t help anything. She could only... be better ... going forward. Both of them.

“You’re not weak,” she whispered as quietly as she could, her lips touching his ear to make sure he heard. She pulled him closer and tried not to peer around him to his sister. “We’re not.”

She felt him squeeze her tighter, like he was willing it to be true.

After another beat, they finally parted. It was still before either of them wanted to, but way past what was polite with company. Their hands fell naturally together, their fingers intertwining comfortably while Henry turned to face his sister.

The little smile was back on his face and Cameron let the corner of her mouth twitch up at it.

His sister was still sipping patiently, as if she hadn’t just witnessed the awkwardly long, intimate morning greeting. Cameron appreciated that.

Maybe it’s a family trait to ignore awkward shit I do.

Brooke cleared her throat. “So ... I really, really want to discuss, you know, THAT,” she said, pointing to the two of them with a grin, “but ... we should probably get through this first.” She held up a few papers.

She must be the lawyer sister. So...

Cameron wilted a little, trying not to let Henry notice.

So must be about Mal. She sighed inside. Can’t fucking escape her.

Henry looked to her and gave her hand a little squeeze before speaking to his sister. “It’s okay, Cameron should probably hear it from you anyway instead of just getting it secondhand from me.”

The smile on Brooke’s face strained a little as she looked to Cameron, but she shrugged and it faded away without another comment. Cameron snuck a glance down at herself — the tattoos on her arms, chest, and legs covered only a little by the wrinkled tanktop and comfortable panties. And she couldn’t even see the mess from the neck up.

Is she thinking, “What the fuck is my brother doing with a girl like her?” ... Fuck. Pants probably would have been a good choice.

It was too late now though.

As she took a seat next to Henry, scooting the chair closer to him across from his sister, Cameron’s eyes glanced over the calendar on the wall — just scenery — until snapping back.

Oh shit that’s her family. Okay.

She was doing her best to be more attentive, to file away more details about Henry’s life.

Mal was just half the discomfort. Cameron was only 23. She had no idea how a divorce worked, much less what Henry must’ve been feeling. She folded her leg up onto her chair, planting her foot on it and resting her chin on her knee, wrapping an arm around herself.

“So you know I was ready to sign the divorce agreement?” Henry said to her. He sounded gentle and apologetic, and his eyes told her that he was well aware this was the worst possible subject to start with this morning — especially as a surprise. But she understood.

Mal is a part of his life, whether he wants it or not, and that means Mal is a part of my life — whether I want it or not.

Cameron nodded and Henry continued.

“Yeah ... well ... Mal doesn’t want to sign them,” he said with a sigh. She caught his eyes losing their shape for just a fraction of a second as he turned to Brooke and then back down to his coffee.

He’s struggling.

Cameron took his hand again under the table, resting on his thigh, but he didn’t look up. She gently wiggled her fingers and he brought his eyes up to hers, a rueful half-smile on his face. Cameron blinked at him, long and slow. He seemed to understand. He had nothing to be sorry for.

Henry squeezed her hand back and they both turned to Brooke, who was observing them curiously.

It was Cameron who spoke this time. Her body was still trying to wake up, though, and she sounded like it.

“Why did she change her mind? I thought this was ... approved, or whatever, like, six months ago?”

Brooke’s eyes quickly flicked to Henry. When they returned to Cameron, they didn’t come back to her eyes, they landed on the wolf’s jaws on her neck first, then up. Yes, Brooke’s eyes definitely reminded her of Henry’s up close. But they didn’t ... quite speak the same language.

Like ... knowing a few words in Italian if I know Spanish. I guess. Fuck, I dunno, I don’t know either of those.

“Yeah,” Brooke said with a sigh. “I was just getting to that part.” She looked at her brother one more time and Cameron felt him give a small nod out of the corner of her vision. Brooke didn’t make any other expressions, though she’d stopped smiling. She seemed a little uncomfortable, but Cameron didn’t think it was because of her specifically. “Well ... Mallory is going to contest the divorce. Her attorney emailed me yesterday.”

Cameron wasn’t sure what that meant, but she felt Henry deflate next to her. Her eyes bounced between the brother and sister. She didn’t want to look like an idiot, but it was better to just ask now instead of get more lost.

“What ... what’s that mean?” she said, her chin still on her knee. Her voice sounded small, not confident with the subject matter or the company.

Brooke waggled her head from side to side and pressed her lips together before answering. “Well, it means things are gonna take longer.” She directed her answer to the both of them, then looked to Cameron.

“I don’t know how much detail Andrew went into —” Cameron’s eyebrows scrunched together for a second until she remembered who Andrew was — “but, before this, it was just both sides’ attorneys working on an agreement on how to divide up the assets.” She held up the papers again.

“Now, Mallory wants everything. Or that’s what they’re starting with, anyway.” Brooke focused on Henry, sympathy on her face. “They can drag this out for ... well, for quite a while if they really want to.”

Cameron knew that was bad news, but for the moment she was more preoccupied with what she was supposed to call Henry.

Am I supposed to call him Andrew in front of other people? We never addressed that. Fuck. I’ll just ... avoid his name, I guess. “This guy over here.”

“Why is she doing this?” Henry said to his sister. He didn’t sound desperate, exactly, more ... frustrated.

Brooke looked even more uncomfortable now and took a deep breath before answering. “Well ... she... does have an offer that might end things quicker. She’ll sign this deal ... if you agree to a year of marriage counseling with her—”

Henry yanked his hand out from under Cameron’s to throw his into the air. “What??”

Brooke continued calmly. “And if at the end, you still want the divorce, you get it. She’d sign the papers now effective after you complete a year’s worth of counseling sessions, and then you could decide whether you want to go through with it.”

Henry was seething. It didn’t take much fluency in any language to tell that. Cameron wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him so frustrated before. Or frustrated at all, really, not before last night at the club, anyway.

He crossed his arms and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, then uncrossed them and tilted forward again, apparently unable to make up his mind where he wanted to direct his anger.

“Why is she doing this?” he repeated. Now he did sound more desperate, pleading with his sister. Cameron was afraid she was the one who knew the answer, though.

“Is it because of me,” she said quietly, angling her head to face Brooke. She wasn’t sure she really wanted confirmation.

Brooke cocked her head, her eyes seeming even more like Henry’s as they softened in understanding.

“Oh, no, Cameron, it’s not you — I promise,” she said. “California’s a no-fault divorce state. Andrew could shack up with a whole harem and it wouldn’t make a difference. Well, I guess she’d probably want them in the settlement too, but...” she looked at Cameron and winced. “Err, bad joke, sorry.”

Cameron switched sides of her chin on her knee to face Henry, who was looking back at her already with a corner-smile.

“He better not,” Cameron mumbled, the sly ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of her own lips. Brooke snorted, probably relieved Cameron took the joke in stride.

Henry reached across under the table to hold Cameron’s hand, dangling both between them, and they looked at each other. He was asking her something, she could tell. She narrowed her eyes, trying to decode it.

Why is she doing this? Fuck if I know. Coulda asked her last ni—oh. She knew what he was asking now, and she gave a tiny nod of assent.

“We ... saw her last night,” Henry said, turning to his sister. “She just showed up at the club we were at.”

Brooke looked alarmed, searching her brother’s face.

I bet she can read him better than I can.

Fuck. Don’t start comparing yourself to his sister now, too. Stick to feeling inadequate stacked against only one of the tall, smart, worldly women who love this guy at a time, okay?

“Did she say anything?” Brooke asked cautiously.

Henry nodded. “She, umm, chatted with Cameron for a little bit.”

Expectantly, Brooke turned to her now, examining again the quiet, tattooed girl who who’d emerged half-dressed from her brother’s bed.

She’s probably imagining me going toe-to-toe with Mal. I hope I’m winning.

“Yeah,” Cameron started. “She, umm, she told me some ... stuff. But she definitely made it clear she’s ... she’s not done with... you,” she said, catching herself from saying “Henry” and addressing him directly instead.

She tried not to let her expression change. Henry’s did, though. He looked concerned, and she realized he hadn’t known about that part before. She hadn’t told him.

“Okay,” Brooke said, trying to process, thinking as she sipped her coffee silently. She swallowed completely before speaking again. “Well, we don’t need to psychoanalyze. Look, the point is, Andrew, this doesn’t really change anything for you, okay? You keep living your life —” she gestured to Cameron — “and you don’t ever have to see her. If she shows up somewhere where you are again — well, we’ll do something about that if it happens. Okay?”

Henry nodded solemnly and sighed, resigned. “I just thought I was getting out of this, you know?”

Brooke looked like she wanted to reach a hand of her own over to her brother, but there was nothing to grab on the table.

Cameron could see his deep brown eyes were submerged in disappointment and frustration. She readjusted the hand holding his, interlocking their fingers tightly, and gave it a squeeze.

Fuck Mal. Nothing changes. You’re not weak. We’re not. We’ll deal with it.

The two of them held the other’s gaze for a beat or two longer than was probably appropriate, and Cameron felt Brooke’s eyes pinging between them questioningly.

Henry heaved a deep sigh and let a little bit of a smile form as he turned back to his sister.

“Welp,” he said more cheerily, with a shrug to match. “Can I make you ladies some breakfast?”

Brooke grinned smugly. “Well, well, well,” she said to Cameron, “I need to come over more often when you’re here. What a gentleman my little brother turns into!”

Cameron angled her head at Henry and let a little bit of a smile show through, making him grin wider as he released her hand and stood up.

“Hey now, don’t get too excited,” he said playfully. “I just meant, like, you know, cereal or a Pop-Tart or something.”

Brooke frowned. “Dare I ask ... do you have any... fruit?” Cameron didn’t turn, but read Henry’s response from his sister’s ensuing eyeroll. She shook her head at Cameron as if she should’ve known better than to even ask. Cameron didn’t really react — she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten a fruit, honestly. But Brooke didn’t seem too bothered by her lack of reply.