Page 46 of Please Save Me

“What’s this?” The slight slur remained.

I didn’t really like the way talking felt right now, which probably should have been a sign that I should have waited to do this until tomorrow.

Not that I couldn’t speak, but more that just the idea of speaking had me exhausted. Worse than that was the fact that Iknewwhat I wanted to say. But, getting my mouth to cooperate was like working an already exhausted muscle. So, I’d just need to make it easier on myself.

So all I told him was that the box was a gift.

Cameron's eyes softened further as he took the gift from my hands, his gaze trained on mine for a moment longer than usual. My heart skipped, and I had to break eye contact. But, instead of looking away, I focused on his forehead. It was something my agent taught me to do during social media training.

“Merci.” He seemed a little more comfortable speaking in French. “You, uh, you wanna come sit with me?”

My saliva went thick as an excited flutter filled my stomach.

I had known Cameron for months, which meant being around him was no longer a new feeling. But tonight felt different, like I was a schoolgirl who knocked on her professor’s door hoping for extra credit.

A smile tugged at my lips, and I nodded. He motioned for me to follow him as he entered his room and placed the package on his bed. I hoped he was just sitting it there before tearing into the paper I used to lovingly conceal his gift. Instead, he sunk to the ground, rested his back on the bed frame and reached for the mostly empty handle of whisky and rocks glass. He pressed the cup to hislips and drained the rest of its contents before placing it to the side and patting the ground.

“C’mere pretty girl.” He patted the floor beside him.

My breathing stilled as I realized he’d never called me that before. I was alwaysSweetpea,Darlin’, Mae,or, recently,little mama.I was probably reading too far into the situation. He was obviously drunk, so his new pet name was probably a result of that.

He reached up, holding his palm to the sky, and I took his hand in mine. He gingerly lowered me down, and I happily sat beside him, crossing my legs under me.

“Ain’t you–Ain’t you gonna ask me how my day went?” He leaned over to me as he spoke.

My face burned, and I nodded.

One corner of his mouth turned up as he leaned back into his bed and looked at the ceiling. The copper curls at the nape of his neck pressed into his skin, and I wondered if our daughter would have his hair. I hoped she did… his eyes too.

“My day started great, except for that slime-ball boyfriend of yours bein’ in our bed.” Cameron’s look of disgust was unfamiliar.

I wanted to tell him not to talk about Sebastian like that, but I also realized Seb had a habit of rubbing people the wrong way. For the longest time, that’s how I felt about him, too. I’d always been nice to Seb even if I didn’t like him, and that’s how Cam was too. That’s what was important.

“But I can look past him because he loves you. And anyone good to you is alright in my books,” he confessed as he slowly looked back down before grabbing his bottle of whisky. “Then I got to church.”

Cameron’s massive hands almost made his whisky cup look like a shot glass. He flicked the black cap off the bottle before pouring more of the dark liquor into his cup.

Other than the night he got me pregnant, I’d never seen Cameron drink more than a beer. And, to be completely honest, seeing him like this worried me.

Between my mom, my dad, and my job, I was used to drunks. But, that didn’t mean I liked them.

He pressed the glass to his lips but didn’t take a drink. I wondered if he could feel me staring. Slowly, he lowered the glass as his attention shifted to me.

“Shit, where are my manners?” he mumbled.

I thought he’d put the whisky down and focus on me instead, but he slowly passed me the glass. A little of the dark liquid sloshed out onto his hand as he gestured for me to take it.

“It’s good stuff, I promise,” he swore.

My body was rigid, and I took the glass out of obligation. Cameron seemed content as he sucked the spilled alcohol off his hands. He watched me expectantly for a moment, and my gaze flickered down to my stomach.

When I looked back, an expression ofoh shit marredCameron’s face.

“Don’t you dare drink that,” he lectured, as if he weren’t the one who gave it to me.

He clumsily snatched it from my hands before draining its contents in one go. He didn’t even flinch when he downed the whisky.

He placed the glass far away from me before leaning over, grabbing an opened cola from his nightstand, and passing it to me. I more readily accepted the can, but after his recent display, I brought the soda to my nose just to smell it.

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