Page 55 of What He Always Knew

The other, larger one — the one I presumed to be a male — had an entirely black head, with his feathers spiraling down into a sort of owl-striped white and black pattern from his lower back to his tail. When his partner hopped off her perch and took flight again, he quickly joined, and before I could stop it, I laughed.

My eyes were wet as I finally stepped inside the aviary, closing the door carefully behind me as I took in the scenery. It had been decorated with so much care, with attention to detail, from the colors of the flowers — the way they matched those of the hammock cover — to the trees, the way they grew in the corners and spread outward from their pots toward the center of the aviary. It was dark now, but I knew the sun would shine in on the aviary and cast beautiful shadows over the stone.

In the corner, next to the hammock, was a small, softly running waterfall that would offer clean water to our new friends.

And right beside it was a photo of Jane and Edward.

I fell into the hammock, shaking my head in wonder.

Cameron had built me an aviary.

I didn’t know why I was shocked, or even surprised in the slightest, because it was exactly something he would do. It was classic Cameron, to take his hands and build something he believed would bring me joy.

Not only had he been working so hard to give me the words I needed to hear, to let me inside his guarded heart and mind, but he had also spent his entire weekend building me an aviary.

It was the most selfless act, the most caring and thoughtful way to show me his love.

And with that realization, I choked on a sob, surrendering to my tears as the birds took flight again.

I watched them for a while before I buried my face in my hands, letting my palms absorb my cries. Everything hurt — the pain in my chest, the hole in my heart, the love I felt for both men, and more than anything, the love they had for me.

I’d never understood how love could hurt before, how it could be the knife between your ribs. It wasn’t until that exact moment that I realized love hurts more than anything, because it’s all we want, and yet it never comes easy.

Minutes turned to hours in that aviary as my tears dried on my face, and I watched my new friends fly, listening to their songs until they both settled into the same nest together. They cuddled tight and snug, their chirps softening, and with me still sitting in the hammock, they fell asleep together.

It wasn’t too long after they’d fallen asleep that I heard the front door creak open, and I stood, making my way out of the aviary as quietly as I could. I rounded the corner of our sunroom just in time to watch Cameron lock the door behind him, and when he turned back around, I nearly fell to my knees.

He looked miserable.

His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with shadows, and his shoulders sagged with what felt like the weight of the universe. He swallowed when he met my gaze, but no words came. I searched him for some hint of drunkenness, but found nothing. He’d drowned in his suffering instead of a bottle, and somehow, it made me feel worse that he was sober.

“You built this…” I whispered after a moment, my hand sweeping back toward the aviary. “You built this for me?”

Cameron’s eyes flicked to the sunroom before they found mine again. “I did.”

I smiled, though tears built in my eyes again. I couldn’t believe there were any left.

“It’sbeautiful, Cameron. I… I don’t have words.”

“I hoped it would make you happy,” he said.

“It has.”

Cameron watched me then, something between a smile and a grimace crossing his face before he hung his head, shaking it slightly.

“I’m going to bed,” he said after a moment, crossing to our stairs. I stared as he climbed the first few steps before I moved to follow him.

“Wait,” I called, and he paused, though he didn’t turn to face me. “Maybe we should talk… about what happened.”

Cameron looked over his shoulder, offering only his profile, and that was enough for me to see the broken man I’d made out of my husband.

“I’m sorry, Charlie. I wanted to talk, before… but I can’t now. Not tonight. I’m sorry.”

I took a few steps up. “Can you at least try?”

Cameron shook his head again, but didn’t answer, climbing the rest of the stairs with his silence answering me, instead. I stood there on the step third from the bottom and listened as he shut the door — the one to the guest bedroom, not our own.

My hands gripped the railing tight as I lowered myself to the stairs, leaning my back against the wood and gazing into the sunroom from where I sat. I could see just the corner of the aviary from that angle, but I could still imagine how the birds looked inside it, snuggled into their nest together, a team already.