Cam had explained to me that when he had gone to the hospital with her earlier in the week, she’d admitted to snorting cocaine and smoking heroin. The hospital had no way of forcing her to stay unless she was admitted to the psychiatric ward, which is what Cam had managed to do before with the help of Tamara’s father. And once again, it was his help Cam had had to enlist. He was Tamara’s next of kin, and because of her past problems, he agreed to have her sectioned again. Sadly, his decision had nothing to do with his concern for the health and wellbeing of his only child and unborn grandchild and everything to do with the twenty-two thousand pounds worth of gambling debts he had and Cam’s offer to clear them for him.
In total, Cam had admitted to spending almost half a million pounds on Tamara, her treatment for addiction, her pregnancy, accommodation, living expenses, nurse, minder and her father’s debts. I didn’t question his motives. It wasn’t my place to, but it didn’t stop my heart aching for him. I know he feels torn about the baby. He would love to be a father, but he would rather the mother was anyone but Tamara. If the baby does turn out to be his, then we will just have to make the best of a horrible situation. In saying all of that, I can’t help but be terrified that if the baby is Cam’s, that I might just lose him to Tamara and their child.
I send a text to Jimmie. We are going over to her and Len’s place for dinner tonight, along with my other two brothers and their wives, and I need to know what to bring. She said to not bring anything, but I hate turning up empty handed; besides, Cam and I stopped off on the way home and bought a selection of wines and a couple of bottles of champagne. It might be a little premature, but we’ve decided to celebrate the fact that we put an offer in on the house we looked at with Vera and hope that it’ll be accepted.
Is there anything you need us to bring 2nite?
I hit send, just as Cam walks into the room. He takes the wine glass from my hand and drinks down its contents, goes to the fridge, gets the bottle out, tops up my glass and gets himself a beer as he puts the bottle back. All without saying a word.
My phone chimes as Jimmie replies.
Reading that word ‘us’ has just made me cry.
I’m so glad ur part of an us again G.
U really have no idea
Luv ya guts
X
I smile as I read her message, then look up at Cam, leaning against the island bench top as I lean against the sink. He looks thoroughly pissed off and I hate that she’s done this to him. We’ve had such a good day and came through the front door on such a high and then she calls.
“What’s she want?”
“Attention, that’s all she ever wants.”
My phone goes off again, “Sorry, I was just asking Jimmie if there’s anything she needed us to bring.” He nods, but I know he’s not paying attention.
Oh, and no.
Just bring the other half of ur ‘us’…
And all of his 9 inches ;)
I smile and shake my head.
“She’s sorted. We’ll just take some alcohol.” I look up and find Cam staring at the tiles on the floor. He’s taken his shoes off and is tracing the line of the tile grout with his big toe.
“She also asked if we could not wear clothes as they’ll only get in the way later when we start to lick dessert off each other’s bodies.” He rakes his hand through his hair and swigs on his beer without looking up at me.
“Perhaps you should think about shaving your ball sack before we go. I wouldn’t want you getting trifle stuck in the hair around them… And yours are hairy, like really hairy. I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about how hairy they are. It’s quite a turn off actually.”
His eyes fly up to mine. “What, what’s a turn off?” And he’s back. I knock back my drink, watching him over my wine glass.
“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or just carry on ignoring me?” I ask as I place my glass down on the bench top. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times I repeat to myself that I won’t argue with him over Tamara, it doesn’t work. I hate the misery she seems to cause him. I hate that she affects him, which in turn affects us, but most of all, I hate that I hate all of these things, that I allow myself to be bothered by her. She’s a pregnant junkie. She needs help. I should be the bigger person here, but I’m not. I’m just the same ol’ selfish George.
“I’d never ignore you, Kitten. Come here.” I look him over. He has one arm folded across his chest, his hand resting in the crook of the opposite arm while holding his beer bottle.
I toe off my Uggs, pull off my jeans and pull my hoodie over my head. He needs a distraction. Let’s see if I’ll do.
I pull my vest over my head and stand in front of him in my black lace thong and bra. A small smile plays across his lips.
“You’re wearing that bra again.” I frown, unsure as to when he would’ve seen me in this bra before. He answers my unspoken question. “You were wearing it the night I came to your dad’s house. When we drove back here and you fell asleep in the car, I could see your bra.” Funny that I now have his full attention and he’s suddenly become so talkative. “I wanted to touch you so badly.”