Page 52 of The Brooklyn Way

“So…” he dragged the word out, “you willing to live without her?”

“Ay.” Brooklyn and I were seated side by side at the kitchen island, eating some type of jerk chicken salad she made. As soon as we finished eating, the plan was that we would head to the deck to watch the sunset. “I was hanging out with Will today. He said something profound.”

She smiled as she glanced over at me. “Will said something profound? That’s cool. Do tell.”

“He said that if I leave you here on Jackson Island while I go back to Chicago, then I need to be willing to live without you.”

She finished chewing the bite of food that was in her mouth and washed everything down with water. “Not necessarily—”

I cut her off. “Are you willing to live without me, Brooklyn? Because on my mama, I don’t know if I can say the same.”

“Cameron,” her voice caught in her throat, “it’s not that I wanna live without you. I wanna be with you every minute of the day. We’ve had this conversation. Before we get any deeper, I just think we should make sure that we’re not jumping without a net. We’ve only been doing this for a few months.”

“How much longer do you need, baby? You willing to have me sick as shit to prove that our feelings are real? Make it make sense.” Subconsciously, I entered her personal space. Before I knew it, her jaw was in my hand. “You’re my person, Brooklyn and I don’t say that shit lightly. You’re my person. You’re who I want. Why do I need to be away from you to prove that? How is me being away from you gonna prove that?”

“What do you want me to do, Cameron?” She moved back so that my fingers fell off her face. “What do you want me to do? Pack up my stuff and move to Chicago with you? I packed up my stuff and moved for my last guy. We both know where that got me.”

“I’m not that nigga.”

“You’re not, but I’m the same Brooklyn. I’m the same Brooklyn who gave up agency over myself to be connected with somebody who claimed that they loved me and saw a future with me, because I suffer from complex PTSD. I cling to people because I don’t want to be alone. I can’t do that to us. I won’t do that to you. I need to make sure what we have is pure.”

“You don’t know that?”

“I know that, but at the same time… I need to know that. I have to be sure.”

I turned to walk away. I wasn’t the type to keep going around and around in circles if the situation wasn’t going to get figured out. And the situation clearly wasn’t going to get figured out.

She grabbed my arm. When I turned to look at her, I saw the tears pooling in her eyes.

I brought her into my arms and held her. “I’m not mad at you, Brook. I’m mad at the situation. I’m mad that I know giving you this… time apart is right, because it’s what you say you need. But I don’t wanna give it to you. I don’t wanna give you space. It’s selfish, but I don’t wanna give you space away from me.”

“I don’t want to want space away from you, Cameron. I’m so fucked up that I’m fucking up the best relationship I’ve ever had. A gorgeous, sweet, successful, giving, affectionate man wants to live in my skin. I’m pushing him away because my brain tells me fucked up shit that seems logical.” She sighed.

“Then let’s just do long-distance until you figure it out.” I took her face in my hands and kissed her softly on the lips. “You can stay here on the island and whenever I can get away—on off days and breaks—I’ll come home. Stay here in the house. On breaks I can come home to you. I want to come home to you, Brook.”

The love making was soft and sweet that night. I was gentle with my baby as I tried to show her physically what my words weren’t able to express verbally. She cried while I loved on her. My eyes watered a little bit too.

9

Brooklyn

Two Weeks Later

There was nothing easy about Cameron leaving Jackson Island.

Everybody wanted to be the one to take him to the airport early on Tuesday morning—his mom, Carrington, even Will. Everybody wanted a few more moments to suck up his essence. It was me who got the opportunity to do so. I got him to the airport early. I pulled to the curb then we proceeded to try to kiss each other’s lips off. The tears flowing from my eyes didn’t seem to bother him. He didn’t stop kissing me or give me a chance to wipe them away.

“I think twenty-five days is unrealistic, baby.” He had already told me that one billion times.

I chuckled through my tears. “Four months ago, you didn’t even know me.”

“I did know you.”

“You kept forgetting me. You told me that it was nice to meet me on like fifteen different occasions.”

“Cap, baby. You’re exaggerating. Anyway, stop bringing up the past. I know you now.”

“Intimately,” I joked.

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