Page 17 of Just Like This
“I’m happy for you, Camille.”
I spent the rest of the day with him, talking about nothing of great importance. Deep down, I was preparing for the end, for when he would be gone. These moments would carry me through my grief. I swiped at the tears stinging my eyes with my free hand. “I have to go,” I said suddenly.
“I’m sorry that I upset you.” My dad knew I was running but didn’t force the issue. This conversation was tabled for another day.
“I’ll be fine,” I told him before leaning across to kiss his cheek. “I’ll come for breakfast. Do you want me to bring you anything special?”
He shook his head. His appetite was non-existent, which worried me. I knew it was a side effect of his treatment, but not getting enough nutrition in him would have side effects too.
I blew him a kiss as I left, but I couldn’t shake my melancholy mood. Not even the prospect of seeing Garrett tonight lifted my spirits.
When I arrived home, I found Valerie sitting in the family room watching television. I hadn’t bothered to mention the argument between Garrett and Palmer the other night or that things between Garrett and I were heating up. She seemed preoccupied lately, and I didn’t want to bother her. Instead, I focused on getting ready.
My mood hadn’t lightened by the time Garrett picked me up. In fact, it was probably darker because all I’d done while I waited for him was consider the future. Major life events flashed before my eyes—getting engaged, getting married, having my first child—and the warm presence of my father was absent from every single one. It was hard to imagine the rest of my life without him.
The sight of Garrett, dressed so casually in jeans and a faded T-shirt, brought the dormant butterflies in my stomach back to life. His sable brown hair was thick and neatly styled, but in need of a trim, and his beard was fuller now since his return from active duty. My fingers itched to touch it.
“Hey,” he greeted me shyly when I opened the door. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yep,” I nodded, grabbing my small cross-body purse off the console table in the foyer. “Nice wheels,” I said, pointing at the SUV parked in my driveway.
“It’s a rental. I couldn’t have Palmer driving me around the entire time.”
“Don’t you own a car or rent an apartment or something?” I was curious because I wanted to know everything about him. Where did he live when he wasn’t deployed? Where are his things? Everyone had a home, and I wanted to see Garrett’s so I could learn about his life.
Garrett shrugged as he opened the passenger door. I scooted into the seat, and he had the seat belt in his hand, ready for me. I took it from him, and our fingers brushed against each other. I knew this game well. He was doing anything to touch me in the most subtle of ways. Eventually, it was going to drive me crazy, which was exactly what he wanted.
“I had an apartment,” he said once he was seated in the driver’s seat. “But then I got deployed for a year. Since I’m only on leave for thirty days, I didn’t see the point of finding someplace temporary.”
“But what about all of your stuff? Clothes, furniture, personal belongings?”
“I’m kind of a nomad.” That was all the explanation he offered, but my persistent look told him that he wasn’t getting off so easily. “Everything is in storage. I like to travel when I’m on leave, so I don’t own much anyway. I’d rather spend money ticking off items on my bucket list.”
“What’s on your list?” I prompted him.
We delved into a conversation about all of the places that he’s visited and how he wanted to learn about wine production in other countries. I confessed that the only other country I had been to was Canada.
Silence settled between us as we drove up to Seattle. He told me that Palmer, Nikki, and Jackson would meet us at the stadium, but I didn’t really hear him because my mind was back with my father and the conversation we had this morning. I didn’t want to seem like my head was buried in the sand, but the thought of living the rest of my life without him hadn’t crossed my mind. People were diagnosed with cancer and survived all of the time. Why was my father any different? I was so confident that he would beat this disease, and now I was faced with the truth; it was beating him.
“Is something bothering you?” His question broke the silence, and I shifted nervously.
I sighed before responding. “No. Yes … I don’t exactly want to talk about it.”
“Fair enough, but you should know that I’m an excellent listener.” Momentarily, he turned toward me and gave me the brightest smile.
I wanted to open my heart and tell him everything. His brown eyes were so warm and inviting, and his broad smile made me tingle from head to toe. Impulsively, I reached up and placed my hand against his cheek, which only made his smile brighter. I felt my own cheeks lifting to return it.
“Please,” he begged quietly. “Tell me.”
“I saw my father today.” My heart felt heavy, and my words felt thick with emotion.
“Palmer said he’s sick?”
I blinked and sucked in a sharp breath. “Cancer. He recently had surgery to remove a tumor and started chemotherapy.”
“It’s not working?”
I shrugged. “We don’t really know yet. But I don’t want to think about a world where he doesn’t exist and today …”
