That silence fell over us again, the one that seemed so full of words unspoken, so full of emotion, charging the air between us. Understanding what it meant, I felt my chest compress with the gravity of the emotion. To stop myself from saying the words too soon, I stupidly asked what I didn’t want to know. ‘Have you ever been in love?’
When he heaved a huge sigh I tried not to react physically, and when he answered quietly, ‘Yes,’ I tried not to be sick.
It was stupid, of course, to feel pain in my chest, to feel my stomach flip and my brain scream Noo!!! but I couldn’t help my reaction. Cameron had been in love.
Taking a moment to make sure my voice was steady, I sucked in another breath and then asked, ‘When? Who?’
‘Do you really want to know this?’ His voice was gruff.
‘If you want to tell me, I want to know.’
‘Okay,’ he answered gently, his hand sliding down my arm in a caress. ‘It was a long time ago. I met her ten years ago when I was eighteen. Her name was Blair and we met in our first term of uni.’
Blair.
And he’d loved her.
Already I was envisioning some tall, dark-haired beauty with intelligent eyes and cool self-possession like Joss. I pushed those imaginings aside. ‘What happened?’
‘We were together for three and a half years. I thought we’d get engaged, buy a house, get married, churn out some kids. I thought she was it.’
Was that a knife he was twisting in my side? I held still, trying to squash the intense jealousy and hurt I felt at his revelation.
‘However, Blair was offered a placement at a university in France to do her postgraduate degree in French literature. So I broke it off with her. I broke it off with her before she could break it off with me because I knew she was going to choose France and she knew I would never leave Scotland. I couldn’t leave my parents or Nate and Peetie behind. She was going to end it, so I just made it easy for her.’
There was so much in that confession that my throat closed with anxiety. I didn’t say a word, just threaded my fingers through his and waited for the pain to ease.
It didn’t.
A while later, we showered together and then Cam left me to go to the bar. I found myself heading up to the flat in a fog of absolute despondency. I’d tried to pull myself out of my gloomy mood, giving him easy smiles and soft kisses, telling myself that he had not once given me reason to believe that he wasn’t in this with me, that he didn’t feel what I felt when we were together.
I’d almost convinced myself as I entered my flat, but when I shut the door I came face-to-face with Mum. She swayed on her bare feet, her nightdress hanging like a sack on her gaunt frame. Her unfocused eyes and unstable feet told me she hadn’t taken it easy with the drink today. Today she’d wanted to get well and truly pissed.
‘Whereyebeen?’
Not in the mood to talk to her, I replied shortly, ‘With Cam,’ and moved past her, on my way to my room.
‘Where’d go?’
Assuming she was asking where he’d gone, I looked back over my shoulder. ‘Work.’
‘Bar,’ she scoffed. ‘Bit of a loser, eh?’
Since I worked at the bar too, I tried not to take that personally. ‘Actually he’s a graphic designer, Mum.’
‘Mmph, fancy bugger, eh?’ She gave a wee laugh and headed towards the kitchen. ‘What the fuck he doing wi’ you?’
I froze.
‘Get bored wi’ you, wee lass. No smart enough for him.’
Backtracking up the hall, I hurried into the bathroom and locked myself in, listening to my insecurities eat away at me. They sounded an awful lot like Mum when she was drunk.
But she was right, wasn’t she?
Cam had been in love with a girl who had been intelligent and interesting, heading off to Europe to do a postgraduate degree in French literature.
He’d been in love with someone who was obviously my complete opposite.
Worse, it hadn’t ended because he stopped loving her.
It ended because of his fucked-up abandonment issues.
I stared in the mirror, searching for something, something interesting, something unique, something that made me someone that Cam needed to be with.
I couldn’t find anything.
A sob rose up out of my mouth and I let the tears fall.
Today I’d fallen in love with Cameron MacCabe. But how could I ever expect him to love me back when I couldn’t find anything in me worth loving?
19
‘I have pancakes,’ Helena MacCabe announced brightly, reaching for her husband’s plate. I immediately put my own clean plate on top of Cole’s and grabbed Cameron’s too.
‘I’ll help.’ I smiled politely.
Helena and Anderson MacCabe had been nothing but friendly and open with me and Cole since we’d arrived at their house yesterday, but I still couldn’t shake off my nervousness.