What He Always Knew (What He Doesn't Know Duet Book 2) Page 3

  That would be harder to do with Cameron holding on so tight.

  The realization that Blake was in the picture now, too, made me curl my fists in the pockets of my slacks. I didn’t know where to start with explaining her to Charlie, and I didn’t know how to cut Blake out of the picture, either.

  The truth was, I loved her, too. I didn’t want to hurt her.

  But I didn’t want to be with her, either.

  I sighed, running a frustrated hand through my hair. The truth would have to come out — to Charlie first, and eventually, to Blake. Would Charlie hate me? Would she understand?

  Would this work in Cameron’s favor?

  I didn’t have any of the answers, but I knew one thing for sure.

  I had to get Charlie alone before tomorrow night.

  Cameron

  When I was eight years old, I watched my father beat my mother to a bloody pulp — and then he went to jail for the rest of his life, and I went to live with my grandparents.

  That was the sob story everyone wanted from me. Everyone. The girls who slept with me, the sports psychiatrist for the hockey team at Garrick, the coach who didn’t understand why I didn’t try to go pro — they all wanted the story. They wanted to solve the mystery, to know more about the man behind the mask.

  Charlie was the only one who ever got it.

  She was the only one who ever got the story, who ever got all of me.

  I couldn’t be sure why those memories were resurfacing as I sat on the edge of our bed Wednesday evening, watching Charlie put on her makeup in her vanity mirror. I used to follow her around when she was getting ready, back when we were younger. It’d take me all of ten minutes to be dressed and ready to go for a night out, but it always took her at least an hour.

  So, I followed her around, playing music for us and talking about anything and everything.

  I’d make her laugh, refill her wine, tell her she didn’t even need any of the makeup she was so carefully applying. She’d tell me about her dreams and I’d listen. I always loved to listen to her, even when I didn’t have much to say.

  Somewhere along the way, I stopped doing that.

  I started watching TV downstairs instead, or I’d sit in my office and work until the very minute she was ready to walk out the door. I couldn’t name the year when I’d decided I didn’t want to spend time with her while she got ready anymore. I couldn’t remember what changed.

  But tonight, I took my old seat on the edge of the bed, right behind her, and I watched with adoration as she carefully swiped her dark eyeliner over her lids, bringing it to a gentle point at the crease of her eyes.

  And I also thought of my father.

  Maybe it was because right now, staring at my beautiful wife, I couldn’t imagine the kind of man who could beat someone he made vows to. I couldn’t imagine hurting Charlie, couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her cringe as my hand connected with her cheek, or hearing her scream as my hands wrapped around her tiny arms.

  I couldn’t fathom hurting her, and yet I had.

  That simple fact might as well have been my father’s fist, for how hard it sucker punched me in the gut, for the sting it left in its wake — a constant reminder, a chronic pain.

  I may not have struck her to the ground, or raised my voice, or done anything to purposefully make her feel like she was anything but my entire world. But I had let her grieve the loss our sons alone. I had let her think I’d abandoned her, I’d failed to use my words to comfort her when she needed me most, and I’d let another man come between us and sweep her off her feet right in front of me.

  If she wouldn’t have agreed to give me two months to change her mind, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.

  Two months.

  Those words circled my every thought as Charlie tucked her eyeliner away, pulling out my favorite red lipstick, next. Her eyes caught mine in the mirror as she rolled the bottom of the tube, the red stick emerging, and I smirked.

  “My favorite.”

  Charlie blushed, leaning forward a little to smooth the stick over her top lip.

  “I remember.”

  I couldn’t help but watch her as she applied the last of it, rolling her lips together once both of them were coated. Then, I stood, towering behind her before I bent to whisper into the hollow point of her ear.

  “Can’t wait to help you take that off later.”

  Goose bumps sparked from where my lips touched her skin and spread like wildfire down her bare neck. I smiled, finding some sort of hope in the fact that I still knew that spot was one of her weak points, that it was where I’d whisper my darkest desires to her before I made them all come true later in our bed.

  Charlie’s eyes found mine in the mirror again, heated at first, but then slowly subdued, slowly saddened.

  I realized then that I wasn’t the only one she was putting the lipstick on for.

  Maybe I wasn’t even on her mind at all, anymore.

  But I didn’t question her, didn’t let it show. I just kissed her neck, holding her gaze in the mirror as long as I could.

  “I’ll go get the car warmed up,” I told her. “Meet you in the foyer?”

  She nodded, her smile soft and meek. It was a mix of love and pity. I wasn’t sure which one weighed more.

  As I descended our stairs, I checked the time on my watch, and the irony wasn’t lost on me.

  Time.

  It was something I’d never paid attention to before. It felt like an unlimited resource, something I had plenty of. I had time to work through our sons’ death on my own, time to give Charlie her space, time to bring her back to me when she was ready, time to build a life with her — and to try to build a family again, too.

  I thought I had forever.

  Now, I only had weeks.

  Once the car was started, I waited in the foyer, and Charlie came down the stairs in only the way she could — like an angel. She floated from step to step, her long black dress trailing the wood, her neck decorated with a simple strand of pearls that I’d bought her for Mother’s Day when she was pregnant. I waited until she stood in front of me at the bottom step, then I took her hand in mine.

  “You’re beautiful,” I told her.

  “Thank you, Cam.”

  She smiled, squeezing my hand, and I wrapped her coat around her before walking her to the car.

  On the drive to the restaurant where we would watch Reese play piano, I squeezed her thigh and told her I loved her.

  She told me she loved me, too.

  I believed her, and I knew that was what I needed to hold onto — that love. I had to bring it back to life from where it hung on with futile breaths now. Time was working against me, and I had years to make up for, with just days to do it. Days and weeks and two insufficient months. It wasn’t enough time, but it had to be.

  The only thing I could know to be true was that she still loved me.

  I hoped that love was enough to bring her back to me, too.

  Charlie

  I thought about Jane again on the drive to dinner Wednesday evening.

  It hadn’t yet been a week since I’d let her loose, since I’d opened our bedroom window and told her to fly free. The more time passed, the more I missed her.

  As I stared out the window on our drive to dinner, I wondered if she was out there, staring right back at me from a distance.

  Cameron’s hand rested easily on my leg, just above my knee, his fingers keeping the inside of my thigh warm as we drove. He’d watched me get ready that evening, from the time I started doing my hair until I applied the very last of my lipstick. It was something he used to do — before.

  Every time I looked in the mirror and found his gaze staring back at me, my stomach warmed.

  It had always been so special to me, that he would just follow me around while I got ready. It never took him long, and he could have easily done a number of other things. But he always stayed, watching, talking, laughing.

  It was like every mi
nute he got to spend with me was a precious one.

  Just like on our way to dinner two months before when I couldn’t remember when his hand had stopped finding my knee in the car, I couldn’t remember when he’d stopped watching me get ready. But tonight, he’d done both again.

  It should have made me swoon. It would have, just weeks before. I stared at his hand and willed myself to feel that same fluttery joy I’d felt the night after my parents’ house, the night I thought we’d have sex again. I tried to remember what it felt like the night he claimed me after I’d been at Happy Hour with Reese. I searched for the love and adoration I’d felt when I walked in on him redoing my library to surprise me.

  But I came up empty.

  And if those feelings were the needles, the excitement I felt over seeing Reese was the hay that made the stack. Those feelings were bountiful. The very knee that Cameron held onto bounced with anticipation of seeing another man — one I couldn’t stop thinking about.

  We hadn’t had the chance to be alone since Monday night, since before Cameron surprised us both on stage at the spring concert. Thankfully, I’d been able to talk to him during school yesterday, but we hadn’t had a single moment in passing today. There were several times he’d tried to catch me, to talk to me, but we’d been interrupted every time. I couldn’t wait to see him, to finally be able to have more than a crossing of paths.

  I wondered how he’d look tonight, what tuxedo he would wear, how he’d style his hair. I wondered if he’d look at me while he played. I wondered if he’d find a way to steal a moment from me.

  I wondered if hell was nice, since all signs pointed to me going there now.

  My husband was in the car with me, begging me for my attention, and I couldn’t stop fantasizing about Reese. I’d waited so long to have this want from Cameron, to have him look at me the way he used to, to hear the words he’d always held silently in his heart.

  And when my mind wandered like that, I thought about Jane, my beloved Budgie that I’d set loose.

  I wondered if she still loved me and thought of me, too. I wondered if she was thankful I’d set her free, or if she was devastated that I had let her go. In two months, I’d be in her place, only I’d have the choice — fly out the window to a new life, or stay inside with the one I’ve known for years.

  I was only two days into the two months I’d promised Cameron, and I already felt the truth of it all like it was a necklace I never took off — one I didn’t have to examine to know what it looked like, to know it was there.

  Two months wouldn’t be enough.

  Still, when we arrived at the restaurant and Cameron circled the car to my side at valet, opening my door for me and helping me out with his hand in mine, I made a promise to myself that I would at least try. I would at least hear him out. I would at least give him the chance I promised him.

  At least then, at the end of it all, I could say I’d made the right decision.

  I looped my arm in Cameron’s as we made our way inside The Kinky Starfish, a swanky dinner and cocktail spot in the heart of downtown Pittsburgh. I’d never been before, though Mom and Dad had spent a couple of anniversaries there. All I knew was that one dinner there cost about as much as our entire electric bill, and the dinner was served slowly and purposefully over the course of four hours.

  It wasn’t just food. It was an experience.

  With Reese playing the piano that evening, I had no doubt it would be one I’d never forget.

  I could feel how tense Cameron was as he opened the door for me, ushering me inside and out of the cold. We checked our coats, and when I threaded my arm through his again, I squeezed his forearm. No matter what was going on in my head right now, I knew it was a huge sacrifice for him to be here. He knew we were coming to watch Reese play, the man whom I’d spent the entire weekend with.

  I knew without a doubt that I couldn’t do the same if our roles were reversed.

  It felt a little like masochism to me, that Cameron not only agreed to let me go tonight, but that he came with me. I wondered if it was just so he could keep an eye on me, so he could keep Reese and me away from each other, or if he was just trying to show me that he wasn’t going anywhere.

  It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t even asked how he was feeling.

  Tugging on his arm, I pulled him to the side of the hostess stand before he could tell her the name of our reservation.

  “Are you okay?”

  Cameron’s brows knitted together. “I’m fine. Are you okay?”

  “No, I mean… are you okay? With being here.”

  Cameron swallowed, his eyes catching somewhere behind me before they found mine again. “I’ll survive.”

  “We can go,” I offered, but my stomach sank at the thought. “If you don’t want to be here. I understand.”

  His jaw flexed, and he grabbed my hands in his, pulling me closer.

  “You want me to be honest right now?”

  I nodded, smoothing my thumb over his.

  Cameron looked at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine like he was the one who’d asked a question and I had the answer inside them. It seemed almost like he was debating whether he could tell me the truth or not — whether it would matter. Or maybe he didn’t even know what the truth was, himself.

  Finally, he let out a long breath, shaking his head. “The truth is nothing matters more to me than your happiness,” he said, voice just above a whisper. “And I can see as clearly as that lipstick on your lips that being here makes you happy. So yes, I’m okay.” He squeezed my hands. “I’m more than okay.”

  His admission made my heart ache, and I squeezed his hands in return, because I knew while that may have been a truth, it wasn’t the entire truth.

  He was hurting. Being here hurt him.

  And he was taking the pain for me.

  I couldn’t wrap my mind around that kind of selfless love, not when I was in the middle of what was possibly the most selfish time in my entire life. But I didn’t have time to overthink it before Cameron leaned forward to softly kiss my lips, and then he led us to the hostess, who took us immediately to the table.

  Mom and Dad were already there, and they jumped up as soon as they saw us, Dad rushing to shake Cameron’s hand as Mom wrapped me in a hug. They were going on and on about how excited they were for all of us to be there, but I was too busy staring at the stranger at our table to hear anything they were saying.

  It was a woman.

  A woman who, if I had to guess, was not much older than me. She had platinum blonde hair, straight as a pin and hanging down to the middle of her back. She pulled it over one shoulder as she smiled, waiting patiently behind my parents as they greeted us. Her bright blue eyes were heavily lined, her lips the same red shade as mine, and she wore a tight, beige dress that hugged all of her curves and showed off her beautiful tan skin.

  My first thought was that she was someone new to the country club, a new trophy wife Mom was trying to make feel welcome. Then I thought maybe she was a new employee at Reid Energy Solutions, or perhaps a client Dad was trying to schmooze.

  But something inside me, something low in my gut, told me the reason she was there wasn’t for my parents.

  “Oh!” Mom said when our greetings were done and she noticed the woman standing behind them. “Where are my manners? Charlie, Cameron, I’m so excited to introduce you to Blake Springthorpe. She’s joining us all the way from New York City.”

  “So nice to meet you both,” she said, her smile taking over her entire face as she leaned forward to shake my hand first, and then Cameron’s. “It’s nice to know Reese still has such amazing childhood friends that would come see him play on his first night.”

  I lifted one brow, the sinking in my stomach growing more as we finished shaking hands. “Oh, you know Reese?”

  Blake laughed a little, the sound light and angelic as she shared a knowing look with my mother. Behind her, I noticed Reese crossing the room toward us from back where
the bathrooms were, and his eyes doubled in size when he saw me.

  Just before he joined us, Mom confirmed that feeling in my gut was there for a reason.

  “Of course she knows him, sweetie.” Mom chuckled. “This is Reese’s girlfriend.”

  Reese

  If hell was a place on Earth, I was literally walking into it in a tuxedo.

  I’d told myself to wait, to not go to the bathroom until after Charlie and Cameron had arrived. I was going to try to pull her aside before she got to the table, though I hadn’t exactly figured out how I would do that yet. But it didn’t matter now — she was standing right next to Blake.

  And judging by the steam coming from her ears, I wasn’t going to have the chance to explain a damn thing.

  “Ah, there’s the man of the night!” Maxwell said as I approached the group. He clapped me hard on the back, squeezing my shoulder with a proud grin. “Are you open for requests yet, son? You must play The Way You Look Tonight.”

  Gloria beamed. “That’s our wedding song.”

  “Exactly, dear. That’s why he must play it.”

  He leaned in to kiss her blushing cheek, and I swear Blake melted into a puddle on the floor watching them.

  Charlie, however, was shooting lasers at me with her beautiful brown eyes.

  “Anything for you, Mr. Reid,” I said, clearing my throat. “Nice to see you, Charlie.” I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my smile in place. “Cameron.”

  “Oh, we wouldn’t miss it,” Cameron said, his grin wide and confident. Clearly he’d caught on to the fact that Charlie didn’t know about Blake, and he didn’t have to say anything for me to already know what he was thinking.

  This would work against me, and play right into his plan to convince Charlie to stay.

  “Mom was just introducing us to your girlfriend,” Charlie said next, and the woman didn’t show a single card as the words left her lips. They were light and airy, riding on a beautiful smile — one that I knew hid all the questions she had for me.

  And likely a few curse words, too.