“Good,” I interrupt him.
“What we have ... Shit, I don’t know how to explain this. Our relationship is unique. It probably wouldn’t work for a lot of people, but it works for us, and it’s worked for us for a lot of years now, baby. You were married to someone you loved deeply, that you’ll always love. He died, and well, here I am. I’ve every confidence that you love me just as much as you loved or love him. That’s just the way it is. I knew this when we got back together, and I’ve been fully aware of it throughout our marriage. It is what it is, Kitten. He’s dead, I’m here. What’s the point in me getting pissed off over your tears?”
I don’t really know how to respond to his answer. He actually sounds a little bit angry.
“So is that a yes or a no?”
“For fuck’s sake, Georgia, you’re my wife and I love you. Of course it fucking bothers me. He’s been dead for sixteen years, build a bridge and get the fuck over it. Is that what you wanna hear from me?”
I’m stunned into silence for a few seconds. Then I try to scramble to get out of his lap and away from him, but he holds me in place by my waist.
“You asked me a question; now listen to the answer.” I stare at him, wide eyed and still too shocked to speak or attempt to move again.
“Part of what makes you the person you are, the woman I’ve loved for so long, is your passion. If you didn’t still feel the way you do, or if you didn’t react to his words the way you are now, then it wouldn’t be you, not the version of you I love. I love you, and part of loving you is accepting that you still hurt deeply over the death of your first husband and the loss of your babies. I try not to feel jealous. I try really fucking hard, but I’m only human. So yeah, to some degree, it does bother me, but do you know what bothers me more?”
I shake my head, terrified of attempting speech in case I choke on the tears silently running down my cheeks.
“What bothers me more is seeing you so conflicted, watching you being eaten alive by the guilt you feel because you cry, because of how you feel. He was your husband, Kitten, and this is the first time you’ve seen these letters. Just like I’m human and feel jealous of a dead bloke, you’re human and can’t help but still being in love with that dead bloke. I accepted it and came to terms with it a very long time ago. You really do need to do the same, babe.”
Wow.
I have no words. Everything he said is true. I’ve been in love with two men for around thirty years. I was in love with Sean while I was with Cam and then I got back with Sean, but either unknowingly or unwillingly, I remained in love with Cam. Sean died and just a year later, I was back with Cam, and now, here we are, over sixteen years after Sean’s death and I’m still in love with both of them.
I rest my forehead on Cam’s chest and sob. “But it hurts so much. It hurts that he’s dead and it hurts that I’m crying for him and hurting you.” I gulp in air and end up giving myself the hiccups.
“Why does it have to be so painful? I don’t want him to be dead, and I don’t want you to hurt. I don’t wanna cry. I love him, I love you, and I love the kids. If he hadn’t died, they wouldn’t even exist, maybe, or would they? Would we have still happened? I don’t know. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I’m a grown up, I’m supposed know this shit, and I don’t.”
He kisses the top of my head and my tear-streaked face, while holding me close. My heart and my thoughts racing.
“Oh, Georgia. My biggest worry was that you’d react like this to what you’d find in that box.”
“I’m sorry, Cam. I’m so, so sorry.”
I feel him stand with me still in his arms and walk through my office door. I thank Dr. Dre and his Beats for the fact that my children will hopefully remain unaware of their mother’s monumental meltdown and burry my face in Cam’s chest as he carries me upstairs to our bedroom.
These letters and the emotions that they’ve stirred up have hit me hard. So much harder than I was expecting them to.
He lies down with me on our bed and spoons in behind me. I feel drained. Mentally, physically, and emotionally wrung out, and it takes no time at all for my eyes to feel as heavy as my heart and for sleep to claim me.
CHAPTER 6
Cameron
I turn and look over my shoulder as the church quietens.
“You ready for this?” Robbie asks from beside me.
“No,” I reply through gritted teeth, trying not to move my lips.
I watch as Chantelle, wearing a big white puffy dress and holding onto a frail looking Colin’s arm, walks up the aisle. Her eyes are on me, and they shine. She loves me, she’s in love with me, and I feel … nothing. Not a thing.
“If you don’t wanna do this, bro, then you need to pull the plug now. Put a stop to this and just both move on.”