Page 139 of Every Silent Lie

He laughs under his breath. “No, not all of it.” He shrugs. “Enough to start someone a new life, though. My sister called me while I was on the phone to my bank manager. April was at my house, and Albi was screaming in his crib.”

“She left him all alone?”

“April would stop in most days. I know she was checking up on them, but she spun it differently, played on the doting aunty card. They tolerated each other. Chelsea and April.”

“Your sister didn’t like her?”

He laughs, and it’s not in humour. “That’s putting it mildly. The feeling was mutual. April saw a gold-digging, self-important, selfish woman, and Chelsea knew April had figured her out.”

“Had you? Figured her out?”

“I had no plans to build a life and a family with her. Not with any woman. She wanted to be kept. Lunches, shopping, going on exotic holidays. Albi got in the way of that. She demanded a nanny, I refused. Then she left.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “And you’ve not heard from her since?”

“Not a peep.”

My mind can’t compute such heartlessness. How any mother could abandon their child. “And you’ve done it all yourself since.”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing. And it’s absolutely everything. “I was never supposed to be a father, Camryn. Having kids never crossed my mind. But Albi happened, and here I am. Fucking loving being his dad.” My heart melts. “April helps out a lot. I have Lynette, who takes care of the house, and Ron who drives us to school and then me to the office each day. I do my best.”

Dec suddenly isn’t just a beautiful man whom I’ve fallen deeply in love with. He’s a beautiful human. A beautiful father. “I think you’re amazing,” I whisper, reaching for his face, raising to my knees and crawling onto his lap. Cuddling him. Like he’s cuddled me when I’ve needed it. I hate that he’s been forced into silence. I hate that I’m the reason.

“And so are you, Camryn. For surviving. For going on, no matter how you dealt with it.”

I don’t know about that. I became a wretched, cold, hateful bitch.

Until I met Dec.

And, more significantly, the transition happened before I knew about Albi.

“Tell me what I need to do to make this work,” he says, grabbing my hair and pulling my head away, looking at me with imploring eyes. “How do I make this okay?”

“No more silent lies,” I whisper.

“No more, I promise.” He takes my hand and pushes it into his chest, and I swallow, bracing to say the words I need to say but am scared to admit. The words that I’m trying to bury but can’t.

“I’m scared I’ll fall in love with him, Dec.” My voice is broken. “And then it’s not just you I lose. What if this, us, all falls apart?”

He shakes his head. “It won’t.”

“You don’t?—”

“It won’t,” he reiterates sternly. “I’d never invite a woman into my son’s life if I wasn’t one hundred percent certain she was going to stay.”

“Even me?” I question. “After everything, how can you be so sure?”

“How can you not be, Camryn?” he asks, making me inhale subtly. “Because if you feel even a fraction of the love for me that I feel for you, you must love me a fucking lot.”

“I’m a wreck,” I whisper, and he smiles.

“You’re the most stunning, deep, spirited woman I’ve ever met. And now it’s time for you to stop pretending to be anything other than that.”

A broken sob escapes, and Dec takes me down to my back and kisses it away, reminding me just how he makes everything better. And I trust that he can. Wholeheartedly. “He’s so sweet, Dec, and I’m sorry for reacting like I did,” I say around his mouth, my hands in a frenzy, feeling him everywhere I can. “I wasn’t rejecting him. I was just so shocked. I’m sorry I ran out.” Sorry I couldn’t say the words I was feeling.

“Shut up.” He rolls us into the middle of the bed, swirls his tongue a few more times, groans, and rolls us back, crowding me, caging me in, kissing the living daylights out of me. I don’t tell them to, but my hands go to the waistband of his sweatpants and start shoving them down his thighs with his boxers, spiking another deep rumble at the back of his throat, as he pushes himself up to his knees and yanks his hoodie over his head, casting it aside and dropping back to his fists, kicking his legs as I wrestle the material down them.

“Are you sure?” he asks quietly, panting down at me, passion and need swirling in his eyes.