Page 78 of Staying for You

Frustration.

Hurt.

Anger.

Hurt that’s masked by anger.

I take it out on the deck, cleaning and scrubbing, spraying and wiping. I’m sweating and grunting through the work, the springtime sun beating down on me. I wish it were rainy and cold to match my mood. The fact that the color of the sky reminds me of Cami’s eyes when she’s laughing only pisses me off.

An hour later, the deck is clean and I’m moving around in the shed to grab the wood stain and supplies I need. Normally this job is a pain in the ass that I hate but right now, I’m grateful for the distraction.

Arms loaded with everything I need to start staining, I head toward the stairs to get started. Only, something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. Or rather, someone.

Cami.

Coming to tell me she’s leaving, if the way her head is aimed at her tennis shoes and her fingers are twisting in front of her is anything to go by. She’s nervous? She’s sad? Fine. Whatever.

I set everything down at the base of the stairs and turn toward her, hands on my hips. As soon as she’s close, I give her a chin nod. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“What’s up?”

She scrunches her eyebrows, no doubt confused by my distance, both physical and emotional.

“I uh…”

“Yeah?”

“Is, um, everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. Back to normal for me. I’ve got a lot of work to do here, Cami. I have guests coming in next week.”

“Oh.”

“What did you need? Have some laundry you need done? Me to go on another groceries run? More wood for the fireplace or cleaning supplies? To use the grill to make some burgers or grilled chicken?” I pause then lower my voice. “Or maybe you want to cuddle up close and watch a movie together or hang out?” I give off a list of all the things that I’ve done for her over the last five weeks like I’m angry and pissed that I did any of it. Thing of it is, though, I didn’t mind a single one of them and if anyone would ask me if I’d change anything from her time here, I’d tell them no.

“No.”

“No what?” I hate the tone of voice I’m using. Short and irritated with her. It’s not me. Not who I am. But she’s about to give methe speechand I thought I had more time with her first. I had hoped that maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to convince her that we could work something out. See where a relationship could go between us. But she rejected the idea before it even left my lips.

She looks out toward the water and crosses her arms, bites her lower lip, and closes her eyes, inhaling deeply. When she turns her head and opens her eyes, they’re glossy. A vise is gripping my heart at seeing her tears but I don’t rush over to hold her like I want to. I’ve held her in the sweet morning light after sleeping next to her all night, in the afternoon when we come inside from playing — literally playing. I’ve had more fun with her these last few weeks. She’s always up for anything, and if I let myself go there, I’d think that she was damn near perfect for me. But I won’t go there or allow myself to think it.

In the evenings, I’ve held her as we cuddle on the couch in front of the fire or while we watch another movie. My arms naturally wrapped around her so often that not doing so now feels like I’m going against who I am.

“I guess I was just coming up here to let you know that something came up back home and I need to leave early.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

I shrug, indifferent. I’m not, though. I want to ask her what changed. I want to demand answers but I don’t deserve them. I haven’t earned that right. Not really. She and I decided in the beginning that we were together because we were here and she and I had some chemistry that neither of us wanted to deny ourselves of. But we knew what we were before we started. If she’s leaving now, it is what it is. I can’t change that. She lives in Tennessee. I live at The Escape.

And I’m not willing to change that. The Escape is my life. My world, really. I visit my family, but The Escape is my home and it always will be. I won’t change that for a woman who I’ve known for five weeks.

Damn. I want to punch myself in the gut for even thinking any of that.

I’m an asshole. Who doesn’t deserve Cami.

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