Page 38 of The More the Merrier

“Took you long enough to get here. I’ve been watching out for your car,” Cameron says by way of greeting.

“I had to make sure she was fed first,” Johannes answers. “Apparently, all she’d had to eat is some of your mom’s cookies she’d pilfered.”

“Of course that’s all she ate. Look at her.”

Excuse me? What the holy heck does that mean?

“What did you just say, you cockwomble? What exactly is wrong with the way I look?”

“Not a single thing is wrong with the way you look, but you’ve got Little written all over you. You’re just waiting for a Daddy to swoop in and look after you.”

Not only are my hackles up, but now he’s got me up off the couch that practically swallowed me up, it was so comfortable. I storm towards him and poke a finger in his chest, not caring in the least that both of them are easily twice my size.

“Fuck you! I’ve been looking after myself just fine for long enough. I looked after myself after my biologicals threw me out like yesterday’s rubbish.” Another poke in the chest and I’m standing on the tip of my toes so my face is closer to his. At this point I’m shouting at him, the events of the evening and early morning finally forcing me to reach my breaking point. “Then, when I was stuck in foster care, who do you think cared for me? Not those twatwaffles that only had me so they looked good with their friends. Nope, again that was me!”

I’m breathing heavily, riding the wave of rage like a pro surfer, carefully balancing on that fine line.

“And then, when my adoptive parents were ripped away from me and I was left with nothing but a rotten uncle who won’t give me access to the money I need to save my second home, who do you think looked after me then?” I pause, as if giving him a chance to respond, but probably more for a little bit of dramatic effect. “Oh, right! Me again. So, Mr. Perfect. You can fuck right off.”

“Feel better?”

Of all the things I’d have thought he would say after my rant, that is probably on the bottom of the list. The grumpy look on his face is replaced with a softness I don’t want to focus on right now.

Damn it.

I fall back onto my heels, physically deflating. I feel a lone tear run down my cheek, followed by another.

Before I know it, I’m pulled into Cameron’s arms, hiccuping sobs racking my body.

“Been keeping that in, have you? That’s okay, pretty girl. Get it out. I’ve got you.”

He’s rubbing my back in soothing circles, holding me up while I break apart in his arms. Keeping me together so I don’t shatter into a thousand little pieces. I don’t even know why I’m crying like this, but I can’t stop now that the floodgates are open.

“Jo, where is her room?” he asks over my head before I’m picked up yet again.

I’ve no clue where he’s taking me, my face still buried in his pine-scented chest. My hands are gripping his arms like lifelines. A couple of steps later I’m being shuffled until I’m sitting in his lap. And then I’m being rocked, and slowly everything starts to feel just that little bit better. His fingers run through my hair in soothing strokes as he continues to rock us back and forth in what I’m assuming is a rocking chair.

My crying quiets down, and I can finally take a breath that isn’t racked with sobs.

“There we go, such a good girl, letting out all those icky feelings. Now close those eyes for me, and have a good sleep. Everything will be better once you’ve had a decent sleep.”

Emotionally and physically wrung out, I can’t do anything but obey his order. My eyes grow heavy, and before I know it, I’m fast asleep.

Johannes

Liewe fok.

Watching Cameron with the Little Mouse is exactly the wake-up I needed. He’s the perfect guy for someone like her. And watching him care for her, soothe her in a way I know I’ll never be able to do, brings it home.

I show them the way to the spare bedroom, whereOuma’srocking chair is still housed. He sits down in the chair with her, rocking her back and forth. I back up out of the room and head back to the living room.

I’d fed Zanya at her little flat, but didn’t take the time to get myself something to eat, so I set about making breakfast. The methodical motions of kitchen prep unruffles some of my feathers, and before I know it I’ve got two plates full of toast, fluffy scrambled eggs, and bacon.

Just as I’m about to place the teapot on the kitchen table, Cameron walks in, looking like a million fucking bucks.

“She stopped crying and I got her to sleep.” By silent agreement, he sits down at one of the place settings and pours himself a cuppa. “She’s a feisty one, that’s for sure. I thought you were crazy when you shared your idea, but you might just be right. And it will liven things up again. Everything’s settled now that Amanda married the boss. I was starting to get bored.”

“You’ve certainly done an about-face pretty fucking quickly,boet.”

---