Page 86 of Kiss My Glass
The unexpected authority in Cam’s tone makes my body obey, even before his words register.
“Good,” he says. “Now lower them. Okay, now raise them again…”
That’s it. The breath I’ve been holding comes out in a whoosh.
“Good work,” says Cam. “Now, breathe in again, slowly, while you count to four. Hold it for four – that’s it. Out again for four.”
He makes me repeat the cycle until it’s obvious my breathing has settled.
“Thanks,” I manage to say.
Cam gives me a quick, crooked smile and sinks back into the driver’s seat. Takes a deep breath of his own. He took up quite a bit of space leaning across Mom, but now I can see her clearly. We stare at each other. Her face is tear-stained and her expression is – I’m not sure – despairing? Pleading? Both?
“It’s okay,” I tell her, because it is. It really is. Because now I know why we had the relationship we did, and it wasn’t all my fault.
I open my arms, and she falls into them, cries on my shoulder. It feels like she’s the child and I’m the parent, as I pat her back and shush her. It feels good. I am suddenly weirdly, ridiculously happy.
Cam meets my eye, and gestures with a tilt of his head to ask if we should drive on. I’m grateful to him and should probably apologize for being cranky with him all these years. I settle for a smile, and he puts the Dodge in gear and pulls out again onto the road.
ChapterForty-Eight
DANNY
I’m barely in the door when I get a text from Frankie to say she’s at the hospital, and Shelby and Nate have news. So, I hop in her car again, and head on back to Martinburg. When I arrive, I see I’m not the only one who’s been summoned. When I said I’d see Mom soon, I didn’t think it would be later this afternoon, but here she is and so is Dad. Cool, great. This is turning out to be a super awesome day.
Shelby’s room is now as packed as a New York subway car in rush hour. Ava is clearing away the remains of a shared lunch, and there’s a general jostling as enough chairs are found for everyone. I can’t get a seat near Frankie, but I sure as heck make sure I’m not sitting close to Dad.
“Update for the newcomers,” says Nate, who looks a hundred times brighter. “Shelby’s going to have a planned cesarean on Friday. Baby will be on the cusp of being considered premature so we should prepare ourselves for the baby to spend time in the neonatal unit.”
He reaches out and squeezes Shelby’s hand, and they share a resigned smile.
“Not the birth we would have chosen, but honestly, as long as Shelby and the baby get through this without incident, we no longer give a fuck.”
“Nate!” protests Mom.
“Sorry, Mom,” says Nate. “It’s been a rough few days. Or weeks. I’ve lost track.”
“Let the boy swear, Ginny,” says Dad. “There’s scientific evidence to say it minimizes pain.”
Nate laughs. “Thanks, Dad.”
Damn it. Why can’t Dad be kind to me like that? I hate them both right now, and I don’t want to feel like that. It sucks.
I look over at Frankie, sitting next to her mom on the other side of the room. I manage to catch her eye, and she smiles. She looks both happy and tired. I want to rush to her and take her in my arms, but I have to settle for smiling back at her. I’ll catch her when we all leave, though I have such a need to be with her right now, I don’t know how I can stand to wait.
After an excruciatingly long half an hour or so of chat, Cam and Ava say their goodbyes, and then, thank god, so do Mom and Dad. There’s room for me now to sit next to Frankie. Her mom greets me with a kiss on the cheek and a warm smile. She also looks tired but happy. I can only assume things went better than expected this morning. Glad one of us had a successful parental experience.
“Ready to go?” I ask, trying my best not to sound overly eager.
“We should go pick up your car on the way back,” says Frankie. She frowns. “Oh, but mine only seats two, and both Mom and I need a ride.”
“I’ll take Lee,” says Nate, quickly. “I want to go home. Staying at Mom and Dad’s was great, but—” He makes a face.
“But you have nightmares about being smothered under a tsunami of small decorative pillows?” I suggest.
“I should not be ungrateful,” admits Nate. “But I miss our bed. I even miss the cats.”
“Of course you do,” says Shelby. “And the cats miss you!”
