Page 116 of My Sweetest Agony

“A fact I don’t need to be reminded of, Marlo.” I don’t mean to snap at her, but she recoils slightly at my tone. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know if it’s possible for me to sort out all the feelings I have for Cam, but I know that right now, I need this feeling because the alternative is me pulling back those covers, climbing into that bed, and staying there indefinitely. And I don’t want to do that anymore.” Tears stream down my face, and I shake my head. “I can’t.”

She grabs my hands and squeezes. “Okay. Just…be careful, Ivy. He warned you away for a reason.”

“I know.”

And there are a thousand reasons it shouldn’t happen again.

Why I shouldn’t want him to pull up his motorcycle on that street and come walking through that door tonight.

But not a single one seems to matter.

28

IVY

By the time the sound of Camden’s motorcycle engine rumbles through the front window, I’ve paced enough that my bare feet ache, and I still don’t have any answers. Still don’t have any clarity regarding any of the things I talked to Marlo about until I was hoarse and my eyes red and swollen from the tears. And I still don’t know how to feel about the man who pulled up outside.

Each minute I’ve waited, wondering if he was actually going to appear, was one also spent considering the ramifications of what we did last night.

The potential fallout with Nancy has left me trembling, wondering if it’s really all worth it if it risks losing her place in my life.

I peek out the window into the night.

Cam sits on his bike at the curb, staring at the house, a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth, but he’s still poised, as if he’s ready to pull away at any moment. The nearest streetlight casts a glow on one side of his face, the rest of him covered in shadow, a place where he seems more at home, anyway.

He remains still, other than lifting his hand to his mouth to take another hit from the cigarette.

I smoke so I don’t put worse things in my body.

My heart sinks into my stomach.

Cam just came from a meeting, from a place where he’s supposed to find support through his recovery, but he seems agitated tonight, his stillness belying the tension in his shoulders.

What’s he doing out there?

Maybe he’s having second thoughts, too.

Maybe all the things said last night can’t counteract all the reasons this is such a terrible idea.

Maybe it’s a sign that I should let this go, that I should let him drive away and never look back.

That would certainly make things easier for both of us and alleviate any worries about what this might do, not only to us but to the people we love. But like he said this morning, we’ve opened the floodgates.

All these conflicting emotions will continue to crash over us like waves on that beach where we stood and said goodbye to Drew. There is no putting that back behind a protective wall designed to stem the flow. There is no pretending we aren’t both drowning in this.

I’m desperate to come up for air, to take a full breath again without feeling that vise around my chest that doesn’t want me to, but I don’t know if that’s even possible anymore.

For Cam or for me…

My feet move toward the door, and I pull it open, stepping onto the porch as I flip on the bulb he replaced, which casts light out into the front yard.

His eyes meet mine from the street, and he takes a long drag off the cigarette, the smoke flowing out of his slightly parted lips in a slow trickle.

I walk toward him, the concrete cool under my bare feet, the crickets already chirping and filling the warm summer evening air with their song, but he remains silent. Watching me, gaze raking over me with an piercing focus that makes me shiver under his assessment. “What are you doing out here?”

“Thinking.”

He brings the cigarette to his mouth again, inhaling deeply as he continues to hold my gaze on my approach. I stop in front of him on the curb, finally putting me at a height advantage since I met him, and he finally tears his eyes from mine to turn his head slightly and blow the smoke away from me.