Page 58 of Until I Find You

“And there she is!” Mama says, outstretching her arms to me. “We were just talking about you!”

Camilla allows my mother to swoop her into a tight hug. A tighter than tight hug. Jesus, it looks like the pastries might be turned to dust. “Oh! Good things, I hope.”

Mama withdraws, keeping hands on both of Camilla’s shoulders.

There’s a strange sensation in my chest. Camilla and I are no longer pretending. So, it is not the fear of being found out. It is the excitement of what’s to come.

I bite down on my lower lip to prevent a conflicted smile.

“You know how happy I am to have you here? I’m just so happy Jack has you,” my mother says, then glances at me. The pain in her eyes is evident, and I am sorry I’ve put it there even if my truth deserved to be heard too. “You know, he’s my…” She touches her chest.

Camilla’s eyes widen. “Oh, Mari, it’s okay. Don’t cry.”

Mama places a hand over her eyes. “Forgive me, I’m feeling–I’m sad you two are leaving us so soon.”

“We’ll come back to visit,” Camilla says, her confidence hits me like a tsunami.

“Good. Good. Hopefully, with a ring, right?” My mother attempts a cheerful grin. “Anyway, excuse me.”

She hurries out of the room without looking at me.

Camilla places the bag of pastries on the table and looks after my mother. Then to me. “Is everything okay?”

I suck in my cheeks, steel my nerves. “Fine. Let’s get to tasting these, hm?”

I turn back to my work and begin to arrange things for tasting.

Camilla’s arms wrap around me from behind, her hands spread wide on each side of my chest. Her body leaned on my back.

I place my hand against one of hers. Hesitant at first. It’s impossible not to give into her touch with my whole self after a few moments.

“You can tell me,” she says.

“I don’t want to burden–”

“Taking care of me means allowing me in, Jack,” she says and winds her way under my arm, looking up at me. “Don’t hide things from me. If you want to make me feel safe, don’t do that.”

It’s a complicated thing, our dynamic. Not only because it’s so new, but because on paper it seems easy enough. I am the Daddy, I take care of my baby girl, and my baby girl does not worry.

But that’s not how life works all the time. We are two humans. Two adults with lives that extend far beyond the few weeks we’ve known each other.

I drop a kiss to her crown of curls and pull her further into me. “Just stay right here, baby girl. Let me hold you.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she mutters, her arms encircling my waist.

I hold her there for far too long. The coffee cools. The pastries inch toward stale.

But I don’t care about anything outside of us.

Knowing I have her to take care of keeps me grounded. I have someone to worry about outside of me. And I don’t want her to suffer because I’m too scared to be vulnerable. “She was…apologizing.”

Camilla lifts her head, chin pressed against me. “Really?”

“In her own special non-apologetic way,” I mumble.

“How do you feel?”

HowdoI feel? How is it supposed to feel when your mother admits to keeping you at a distance because she though you hated her? How is it supposed to feel that after all of this time, if you’d just fucking talked to each other, all of this might have been different? “Bad.”

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