Chasing Castles (Finding Focus #2) Page 19

  “I don’t know why you make me stand outside and wait every time I want to drop by. It’s like I have to answer three riddles before the troll under the bridge lets me in,” she pouts, sitting on the edge of the wooden desk.

  “Who, exactly, is the troll in this scenario, me or Micah?”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “You know what I mean, Deacon. I’m your girlfriend; it shouldn’t take an act of Congress to see you.”

  I rub my hands over my eyes, feeling completely drained. It’s too early for this shit.

  “You know Sundays are my time to catch up on everything here at work. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal of it today.”

  “Believe me; I know how important your Sundays are.” She crosses her arms over her chest and juts out her chin. “Lemme guess, when you’re done here, you’re going to go to your parents’ house and watch football, right? And, then what? Have dessert with Cami? I know you can’t leave French Settlement without seeing her. So, I guess the reason I’m making such a big deal about it is that I’m wondering when is it my turn? When do I get to spend time with my boyfriend?”

  “Leave Cami out of this,” I warn. I feel like the biggest asshole, but I can’t let her bring Cami into this conversation. The argument needs to stay with us . . . me.

  “Don’t deny it. You haven’t been the same since she moved back home,” she says calmly, but I can see the fight brewing in her eyes.

  “I know I’ve been spendin’ a lot of time with Cami,” I say, trying to keep my tone even, “but she’s one of my best friends. I get that you don’t like that, but it’s nothing different than I would do for Micah or Tucker.”

  I pause, giving her a chance to say something, but when she doesn’t, I continue, deciding it’s better to just go ahead and have all the cards on the table. “So, I’m gonna continue to spend time with her. If you can’t handle that, then maybe we should be having a different kind of conversation.”

  I’ve obviously made things worse with that statement because her eyes are full of fury now, but I’m not backing down. No way in hell am I going to let her, or anyone else, dictate how much time I spend with Cami or my family.

  Fuck that.

  We stare at each other for a minute, neither of us willing to budge, until she lets out a frustrated sigh and throws her hands in the air dramatically. This isn’t like her, she’s normally calm, cool, and collected. What’s always made Janie and me work is our ability to be casual, and flexible, and forgiving of the other’s schedule. The fact that she’s recently started acting like some crazy, jealous girlfriend is starting to piss me off.

  “Fine,” she huffs. “Do what you have to do. You can come to my place tonight when you’re back in town. Just make sure you take a shower first,” she sneers, hopping off the desk as her dig fuels my anger.

  “Go home, Janie.” My voice is low, and I’m about three seconds from losing my shit.

  She walks through the doorway but turns back to say, “That baby isn’t yours. Maybe you should remember that.”

  I flip her off as she leaves, but she doesn’t see it.

  Needing a beer in the worst way, I stomp into the bar where Micah is still working.

  “She’s not wrong, you know.”

  “What the fuck, Micah?” I pop the top off my beer bottle and throw the cap at him.

  “I don’t mean about the baby. That was a pure bitch move on her part.” He leans down and picks the cap off the floor and throws it away. “I’m talking about how you’ve changed since Cami moved back.”

  I close my eyes and guzzle the cold liquid, hoping it will cool my temper.

  When the bottle is empty, I toss it into the trash can.

  “I know I have, but I can’t help it. I didn’t think she’d ever come back, but now that she has . . .” I don’t know how to explain how I’m feeling.

  “You need to suck it up and admit that you’re in love with her,” Micah advises. I want to wipe that smug grin off his face. With my fist.

  “You don’t know shit. Like I’m going to take relationship advice from the Cajun Casanova.”

  He laughs and wipes the bar down with a towel. “Take it or leave it, I’ll still be ready to say I told you so when you finally pull your head outta your ass.”

  “Janie was right about one thing, though. You are a fuckin’ troll.”

  “Come on, Saints! Get your head in the game!” My dad is pacing in front of the TV, yelling, and it’s only the first quarter.

  After leaving Micah at Grinders, I drove to the Settlement and met my parents at church. He has a date this afternoon, but he promised Mama he’d be home next weekend. Once Mass was over, we came home and grilled steaks, hanging out until the game started.

  I love spending time with my parents, and I admire how their relationship has only gotten stronger over the years. I want that one of these days. There was a time I thought I might want that with Janie, but now I’m not so sure. The more I think about it, the more I think I’ve been forcing my relationship with Janie this whole time. It’s not that I don’t care for her, I do, and we’ve had some great times over the years. I just don’t think she’s the one.

  What am I saying?

  I know she’s not.

  “Knock, knock,” a female voice rings out as the front door opens.

  Cami.

  It feels like all of my senses immediately go on high alert just knowing she’s here.

  “Oh! Give me that baby!” My mama squeals while running to the foyer. She leans down to where Cami has placed Carter’s baby carrier and has him unbuckled and in her arms within seconds.

  “It’s true what they say. Once you have a baby, you become invisible,” Cami says, jokingly. “My parents ignore me, too.”

  Mama swats at her as they walk into the living room. “Oh, hush. You get to love on this angel all the time. It’s my turn now.” She holds Carter up in the air and inspects him like he’s a piece of fruit at the grocery store. “Now, let Nannie look at you. I do believe you’ve grown a foot since I saw you last.”

  Every time I see my mom and dad with Carter, I feel a weird twinge in my chest. I love it, don’t get me wrong. It’s just different, something I’ve never felt before, or at least not this strong. It’s like a deep want or need. I’ve never been one to give much thought about kids or having them, even though I knew eventually I would. But with Carter in the picture, I think about it a lot.

  Cami laughs. “Not quite, but he’s definitely goin’ through a growth spurt. He eats all the time.” She looks at me and, if I’m not mistaken, her smile gets even bigger. “Hey, Deke.”

  I stand up and walk over to hug her. “Hey, why don’t you go sit down and I’ll fix you a plate.”

  “Thank you, but I just ate over at Daddy’s house, and I’m stuffed. I’ll take a water, though.”

  “You got it.” When I come back from the kitchen and hand her the bottle, her fingers brush against mine as she grabs it. For so long, I’ve tried to ignore the feeling I get whenever our skin touches, but I don’t know if I can do it anymore.

  Is Micah right?

  Is it finally time for me to admit that I have feelings for her?

  Am I ready for that?

  Is she?

  She has my brain such a jumbled mess half the time, and she doesn’t even realize it. I mean, like right now, for instance. She’s just sitting there, looking amazing, and she’s as calm as can be, cooing at her baby, while I’m on the other side of the couch breaking out into a sweat just because I’m in the same room with her.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  It’s all Micah’s fault. Him and his big fucking mouth.

  I walk back into the kitchen to give myself a chance to breathe and put a little distance between Cami and me. I’m not surprised when my dad walks in right behind me. I haven’t missed his speculative stare.

  “Alright, spill it. What’s got you so spooked?” My dad was never one to beat around the bush.

 
; “I’m not spooked,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Tired and stressed, maybe, but not spooked. Why? Do I seem spooked?” I think I’m now spooked by how many times I’ve said the word ‘spooked.’ Between him and Micah, they’re making me paranoid.

  “Settle down,” he chuckles. “I just noticed that you were over there sweatin’ buckets, and it can’t be because of the game. The Saints aren’t that far behind.”

  “No, it’s not the game,” I tell him, letting out a laugh and leaning against the kitchen counter.

  “Everything okay with Grinders?” he asks, grabbing another beer out of the fridge.

  “Yeah, work is great.” I pause, wondering if I want to tell my dad about Janie and me. He’s always been great with advice, and I know he’ll be honest with me, so I decide to be truthful. “Janie and I aren’t doin’ so well, though.”

  “Ahhh” is all I get from him as he pops the cap off his beer and offers me one, but I shake my head in refusal. I don’t need alcohol to make me feel even weirder than I already do.

  After a few sips, he’s finally ready to talk.

  “Do you love her? Janie, I mean.” His mouth twitches like he’s in on some joke, but I don’t find any of this funny.

  “I don’t know. I mean, we’ve been together for a long time, and I do care for her.”

  “Well, damn, Deacon. If you don’t love her by now, you think you ever will?” When I don’t give him an answer, he continues. “It’s understandable that you’re questioning things. You’re twenty-five, it’s normal to be thinkin’ about how you’d like the rest of your life to play out. Your professional life is going well; now’s the time to figure out your personal life. But, remember, rushin’ to fall in love makes as much sense as tits on a bull. When the time is right, you’ll know it. And when the girl is right, you’ll know it.”

  We walk back into the living room, and I take a seat on the couch opposite Cami. From this vantage point, I can still watch her and have a little distance to sort through my feelings. But mostly, I can watch her. Seeing her as a mom is fantastic. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like, I’ve always known Cami is caring, but seeing her sweetly talk to Carter or soothe him when he cries, it takes that caring nature I’ve always known and multiplies it. I could watch her all damn day.

  When the game is over, I offer to follow Cami to her house. I make up an excuse that I want to talk more about the business plan I’m helping her with, but really, it’s just an excuse to spend more time with her. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to mind.

  I love being inside her house. It’s small, like my cottage, but it’s homey and comfortable. Cami offers to make us some coffee, and I accept, watching as she gracefully moves around the kitchen while still holding Carter. As our coffee brews, she sits down next to me on the couch and drapes a blanket over her and the baby, which seems weird until I realize that she’s feeding him. Breastfeeding him.

  Knowing Cami’s breasts are exposed underneath that thin blanket while we’re sitting next to each other has my mouth completely dry and my mind in places it shouldn’t be, like her tits.

  I cannot be getting turned on right now. She’ll think I’m a pervert for sure. Hell, I think I’m a pervert, but I can’t help it.

  Deep breaths.

  Think about dead puppies.

  “So, tell me about this business plan you’ve drawn up for me,” Cami says, completely oblivious to the torture she’s putting me through.

  I clear my throat, needing a second to recover from my highly inappropriate thoughts. “Um, let me get our coffee first.” I get up and quickly walk to the kitchen. I take my time, fixing our mugs. When I walk back into the living room, I sit hers down and then promptly cover my lap with a throw pillow.

  Problem solved.

  I can do this.

  When I start to speak again, finally feeling in control, my voice catches in my throat as I watch Cami switch Carter to her other breast.

  For fuck’s sake.

  She keeps herself covered, but that doesn’t mean my imagination isn’t running wild. The thing is, I’ve seen her tits before, and I can only assume they’ve gotten even better now that she’s older. Plus, she’s had a baby.

  Shit. I should not be thinking about that right now.

  Somehow, in the haze of my obvious attraction to this incredible creature, I manage to begin to explain my ideas on how to make her business work. She’s so interested in what I have to say that she never seems to notice my distress. Pretty soon, even I’m focusing more on our topic than on her bare breasts, because I’m so excited to be helping her with this.

  She wants to open a place that’s part gallery, part studio. Something she can, not only use for a place to create, but also offer lessons. It’s perfect, and I think it’ll fill a great void in the area—giving other aspiring artists the chance Cami never had.

  Eventually, she places Carter over her shoulder and starts to burp him, mindful not to let the blanket fall and expose herself. She’s such a natural at being a mother, and it warms my heart to see her like this. Carter lets out a couple of impressive burps and then starts to fuss.

  “I don’t know what’s bothering him,” she says. “I changed him, fed him, and burped him . . . usually he goes right to sleep by now.”

  “Want me to try?” I offer, without even thinking.

  I’m great with kids, but I don’t have a lot of experience with babies.

  How hard can it be, though, right?

  “Sure, if you want.” She doesn’t sound very confident, but something inside me wants to show her I can do this.

  I stand and gently take Carter from her shoulder, cradling him in my arms. Seeing him up close like this, I’m taken back by how beautiful he is. I’ve never really thought of babies as being beautiful, but Carter is. I can see Camille in every one of his features, and the selfish part of me is thrilled that Tristan isn’t represented. He’s still pretty wiggly and fussy and when I go to move him to another position, I end up holding him against my side with his tummy lying on my forearm.

  “Uh, would you like some help?” Cami asks, sounding nervous. “You’re kinda holdin’ him like a football.”

  “Yeah, but I think he likes it. See?” I ask, kinda amazed that I’m doing this. “He stopped cryin’.”

  With a firm grip on him, while he’s snuggled into my side, I slowly turn to face her. Instinctively, my body starts to bounce a little as I hold him, and I know I look ridiculous, but I don’t care. I got the little guy to stop crying, and it feels like sweet victory, especially when I notice the look on Cami’s face.

  Is she turned on?

  God, I hope so.

  Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is turned up in a surprised smile, but it’s her heavy breathing that’s really got my attention. Thankfully, after I took Carter, she put herself back together, so at least I don’t have her exposed boobs to distract me any longer. Or maybe I’m not so thankful.

  Holy shit. Is it normal to be this turned on with a baby so close by?

  I know nothing romantic will happen between Cami and me. Not tonight. That wouldn’t be fair to her or to Janie, and I’m not a cheater, but I can’t deny loving the fact that Cami is clearly checking me out and liking what she sees.

  Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to change poses . . . I mean positions, to see how they affect Cami. You know, for future reference. I make a show of carefully moving Carter to my chest and holding him up against my shoulder. I kiss the top of his head and take in a little whiff of his baby scent, surprised that he smells good, like really good. I think it’s probably baby powder and lotion . . . and maybe a little of his mama. It’s a bit intoxicating. Now I see why people always sniff their little heads.

  I so got this baby thing down.

  Because I’m a dumbass, I get a little smug with myself, while rubbing Carter’s back. Just when I think I must be the baby whisperer, in rapid succession, he lets out a loud wail, burps, and then throws up an enormous amount of breastmilk down the front of my
shirt, before falling swiftly back asleep.

  How can he go from being so peaceful to full-on post-rager and back again in a matter of seconds?

  I look to Cami for help, but she has her face planted in a pillow, trying not to disturb Carter with her laughter. And now I smell like rotten ass, but I don’t care. I still consider this a win and proof that I can do this.

  I can help take care of a baby.

  I can be here for Cami.

  And I’m exactly where I want to be.

  Cami was sweet enough to find me an old shirt of Tucker’s to trade out for the one that was demoralized by spit-up. That shit is toxic, but oddly enough, it didn’t make me want to give him up. After I got a clean shirt, albeit a size or two too small, Carter and I settled back on the couch while Cami and I finished our conversation about the art studio.

  I told her I think it’d be best not to take out a loan for now. She still has some money in savings and all she needs is a small space to rent until the studio gets off the ground. Then, when she has a constant cash flow, she can invest in a building.

  The passion she has for her art is tangible, and I know she’s going to be successful. And beyond all of that, I’m so happy to know that she hasn’t given up on her dreams . . . hasn’t quit chasing her castles.

  Before I even make the crossover onto Highway 16, my phone vibrates, signaling an incoming text message.

  At the next stop sign, I check it and see it’s Janie, reminding me to stop by her apartment before going home.

  Sighing, I text her back before turning out on the highway. As much as I just want to go home and call it a night, I know I need to talk to her.

  When I pull up at Janie’s, forty minutes later, I park my truck and hop out. Before I even get to her door, I see the light from inside as she cracks it open and stands there with her arms folded across her chest.

  Unlike earlier today, her expression is more solemn. I hate that this is what our relationship has come to. I always thought, if we ever quit dating, we’d at least still be friends. I’m not sure where everything went so wrong.

  Well, I guess I do.