Page 37 of What He Doesn't Know

“I just told them, right before I called you.”

“Do you know the due date?”

It was all I could do — ask questions.

“July twenty-fourth as of now.”

I sniffed, the first true smile breaking my face as the tears spilled over.

My brother was having a child.

It hit me like a cloud of glitter and a bucket of ice water all at once.

“Well, I better get off here and call Mom. I’m sure she’ll be dying to gush about all things baby-related,” I spoke through my tears, sniffing and laughing, likely sounding like a maniac. “I’m so happy for you, Graham.”

“Thanks, sis. Let’s talk again soon, okay?”

I agreed, and then the call was ended.

I didn’t pick it back up to call Mom.

Instead, I sat in the chair, in the library, my eyes drifting over the books to the closet that hid the furniture that would have made this room a nursery. And for just one split second, I let myself be sad. I let myself be selfish and angry for just that one, lonely moment.

Then, I stood, letting my feet numbly carry me to the kitchen to start dinner.

I worked through the task of cooking, trying to keep my focus there, but it wandered like a dandelion seed in the wind. I’d land on a thought, one of Reese, perhaps, or of my future niece or nephew. Then, the thought would be swept away again, momentarily floating until it landed on Cameron, or on our sons.

They would have been cousins-to-be, if they were alive. I would have rushed into their room to tell them. We would have gone to the hospital to see their new baby cousin when he or she arrived. They would have spent holidays together — Christmases unwrapping gifts on Mom and Dad’s Persian rug under the tree, Easters hunting eggs behind the church.

When dinner was finished, I ate alone. Cameron took his in his study, trying to finish up the work he had to do. I left him alone, all the while waiting for our dance later. I’d tell him then, when he had me in his arms, the soft music swaying around us. I’d tell him that he would be an uncle soon.

Just like I’d once told him he’d be a dad.

Keeping myself busy for the next couple of hours was nearly impossible. I tried watching television, tried starting a new book, but mostly I just stared at walls, my thoughts running away with me.

Around eight, I slipped inside Cameron’s office with a gentle knock at the door, wearing only a lavender silk camisole he’d bought me for Christmas one year. He glanced up at me when I entered, reading glasses low on his nose, and then his eyes were back on the numbers he was crunching.

I expected him to do a double take, but it didn’t bother me when he didn’t.

That was my man — always hard at work.

“Someone still owes me a dance,” I said, coming up behind his chair with one fingertip running the length of his bicep up to his shoulder. My hands massaged him next, and he groaned at the touch, leaning back in his chair long enough to kiss my knuckles.

“I’m still not finished here,” he answered reluctantly. “We might have to postpone that dance.”

He pulled his glasses off, pinching the bridge of his nose, and disappointment seeped into my bloodstream. My hands had stilled on his shoulders.

“You can’t slip away for just one dance?” I tried.

Cameron turned in his chair, pulling me into his lap as he sighed. His tired eyes searched mine, and I wondered if he could see it — the pain. Could he see that I was hurting? Would he ask me what was wrong?

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just can’t tonight. But I want to,” he said quickly. “Will you give me a raincheck?”

My heart sank again, but I just leaned forward, pressing my forehead to Cameron’s. Just one week ago he’d made love to me like he was coming back to me, and now I was face to face with that distant man again.

But, changes didn’t happen overnight, and I tried to comfort myself with that fact as I answered.

“Okay.”