A week had passed since I’d seen Cameron, and I still couldn’t get his handsome face out of my tortured mind…not to mention the spunky yet cheerful pitch of his voice and those deep blue eyes that his pitch-black hair had always highlighted.
Of all the people I could run into on a trip for my friend’s wedding, it had to be him. This wasn’t fair; I was over him. It seemed like a dozen lifetimes had come and gone since he left me, but for some reason, it also felt like no time had passed. My high school sweetheart had smacked me across the face, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Of course, this wasn’t the first time I’d thought about Cameron Brandt since we’d gone our separate ways. Every now and then, he would pop into my mind when I looked at my son—our son—Jackson.
Jackson was unexpected and one hundred percent Cameron’s son, but there was no way in this world I’d tell him that. Cam came from a proper and incredibly wealthy family. I knew what conclusion his parents would’ve come to about me and the situation if I had hunted down Cameron and told him everything.
Maybe it wasn’t fair of me not to tell him, but after he left me so coldly—cutting me as deeply as a person can be cut—I didn’t want anything to do with him again. Cam made it clear that he was done with me when he left, so why on earth would I choose to put myself and my unborn child through any more trauma? That’s what I’ve always told myself, anyway. To hell with it. I’d seen therapists and been advised that I should tell him at the very least, but I knew Cam well enough to know it would just be a burden on him, make him miserable, and I wasn’t going down that road.
I’d had plenty of moments where I regretted not telling him, but those came and went a long time ago, and I’d moved on. Cam loved me at one time—I knew that, and I felt that—but I wasn’t going to see that look of defeat in his eyes when I told him about Jackson. So many people judged me, but I didn’t care. They weren’t in my shoes, and they weren’t the ones who had to listen to Cameron’s excuses to leave. ‘I love you, and I know we made a promise, but this is my dream—my life—Jessa. Sorry. I hope you understand I have to do this.’ They also never had to spend what seemed like forever, mending my shattered heart. All those who said I was overly nice or not strong enough to deal with the situation head-on could suck it. They didn’t know what I was made of.
Jackson was my life, and through my son, I gained a motherly instinct that made me stronger regardless of what anyone thought of me. Seeing Cameron again wasn’t going to spark up the conversation that made me drop this bombshell in his life, either. Cam was Jackson’s biological father, and that was it. The man who had stepped in as Jackson’s father was Warren Branson, my fiancé.
Although Warren had some flaws with being the perfect man in a relationship, he proved his love through numerous methods. The man cared about Jackson and me and worked his ass off as a vice president for a global technology company, making life very comfortable for us. When he wasn’t working late, he would cook dinner if I was too tired, and sometimes, he would pick up Jackson from school or join me on doctor visits, and most of all, he would snuggle up with me on the couch and force himself to watch a chick flick.
These weren’t his only qualities. He was an all-around great guy from the first moment we were set up three years ago. Trust me, when it came to Jackson, I vetted the fuck out of any guy I dared to date and trust with mine and my son’s future.
Like Cameron’s sister, Jackson was born with a genetic disorder and suffered from severe epileptic seizures. After many grueling years, our neurologist finally put Jackson on a special diet to help prevent the seizures from happening as often as they used to. Thank God, too, because I’d spent so many years watching the seizures take over Jackson’s life. This diet and medication were the breakthroughs we needed to get my boy healthy and happy again.
I didn’t have to fight many guys off before I was set up with Warren. Men usually ran in the other direction after asking about my routine and how I managed as a single mom. Once they learned there was much more to raising my son than dropping him off at daycare and everyday things like that? Poof, gone. And good thing, too. They saved me the trouble of kicking them to the curb.
Warren was nothing like the other men. He seemed eager to meet Jackson and to learn more about my son and me. After six months, I finally let Warren meet Jackson, and I was so relieved that he instantly adored my son as much as he adored me.
So, that’s why I didn’t inform Cam about Jackson while I was at that resort. It was good that I lied and told him my son was another man’s child, too. I didn’t even need to drop that bomb for him to stand me up, leaving the resort without a word.
I wasn’t too surprised when I realized he’d left. I learned a long time ago never to trust Cameron. Instead, it was better to wish him well and send my positive vibes into the universe after him. Forgiving the one who hurt you the most was the best therapy in the world, and that’s why I wasn’t sad when he vanished again. It’s also why I had no desire to call him, even though I had his number. Cameron was a memory from the past—in the flesh—and that was that.
So, why was I sitting at my vanity in my Manhattan penthouse thinking about how Cam’s jawline was perfectly formed by his neatly groomed beard? Beats the hell out of me.
“He was just an old damn flame,” I softly reminded myself as I placed my drop earring in my ear. “That’s it.”
“What’s it? What are you whispering to yourself in here, precious?” Warren’s voice announced his entry into my dressing room.
“Precious,” I said dryly, then turned and smiled at him. “I hate when you call me that, and you know it.”
He raised his hands and brushed along the bare skin of my upper arms. “You look stunning tonight. I love this silk gown on you. You will surely astonish them all.”
As Warren kissed my neck after fastening a new necklace he’d purchased for this affair, I closed my eyes, begging myself to feel something with this tender show of affection. Nothing.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe my hormones are fucked up, and that’s why I’m not that into sex or intimacy with him anymore.
He had to be correct. I loved Warren, and I knew how lucky I was to have him. Any one of the rich ladies at the gala tonight would’ve given their last fur coat to be with him. His dark blonde hair, muscular body, and soft jade eyes should’ve been enough to revive how I felt about this man during our first year together. Now, it was as if my body didn’t have any fucking hormones at all.
I felt his hand slide under my dress, his fingers going to the spot that should’ve made me melt like butter while his teeth nipped at my lips, aggressively and seductively working to bring me under his sexual control. But he wasn’t turning me on. In fact, I was fighting the urge to pull his hand away so I could get the fuck out of this room and to the party already.
Fake it to make it, I told myself, wanting to get this over with. It was either now or later when I was exhausted from the party. Might as well wrap it up now, so I could fall into bed after we got home tonight. Warren would be satiated since he hadn’t gotten a piece of ass in the week Jackson had been in Seattle at my parents’ house.
I hated that I felt this way, but I guess I should’ve been grateful that it was the only issue in this relationship—a relationship that I seemed to be forcing myself to be a part of since I saw Cameron again.
“Jessica, you look ravishing, glowing actually,” Francis said, tipping a flute of champagne to her lips. “How’s that handsome son of yours doing? He’s in a private school now, correct?”
I looked at Warren’s coworker’s wife and grinned. “Actually, no. He’s not in a private school. He—”
“Good lord, Jessica,” Stevie said, another one of the wealthy ladies, as she snatched my arm, damn-near shouting for the entire room to hear. “We don’t use the word public school in this circle.”
I plastered on my best smile. I only had to tolerate these women at these particular gatherings. I always felt like I was suffocating by the end of them, unable to open up like I would around my friends. I was fake when these people surrounded me because their judgment knew no bounds, and I hated it.
“We don’t?” I spoke.
The other ladies stared at me like I’d grown a second nose. “No,” said another woman I hardly knew. “I’m shocked that Warren would allow that. While your son might have some issues, you two can afford to—”
I leveled the woman with an expression to match my rising anger. “Why don’t we get off the topic of where Warren and I choose to send our son to school? I’m not going to listen to anyone tell me where I should send my son—with all of his issues—to school. Jackson is playing football again. The team loves him, and he’s a huge asset to them.”
“Jessica, darling,” Francis said, her silver hair shimmering under the room’s lights. “No one is attacking you. It’s just that everyone here knows that private school is better for advancements in college and careers and such.”
“While I can appreciate all your humble opinions on what’s good for my son and what’s not, Jackson is happy where he’s at. That’s all that matters. He’s thriving in education as well as in sports.”
“Well, then, we’re wrong,” another woman said. Her black hair was pulled back tightly, showcasing what must’ve been a hundred-thousand dollars’ worth of Harry Winston diamonds. “Ladies,” she eyed the group while her blush lips pulled up coyly on one side, “I’m sure there are better conversations to have over champagne than talking about public schools, private schools, and Jessica’s son.”
“Indeed,” Stevie spat out in defeat.
These women and I were different breeds. We came from entirely different worlds, and it seemed like they could sniff me out instantly, no matter how expensive my gown or elaborate my jewelry was. They weren’t the type to embrace people from different backgrounds, and the pretentiousness made me uncomfortable.
What the hell time was it anyway? It felt like it had been hours since we arrived. Awards had been handed out, leaders of divisions were recognized, dinner had concluded, and now, this conversation had gone on for too long.
I rubbed my forehead, feeling my palms grow clammy. Thoughts of Cameron and my feelings for Warren rushed around in my head. I needed air. I wanted out of this fancy hotel and would gladly welcome the noise of New York City’s streets.
In a rush to get outside, uncertain if I was falling apart for no reason, I moved briskly out of the room, down the grand staircase, and out the main entrance of the hotel.
“Madam, is there a—”
“No, no,” I raised my hand at the valet, cutting him off. “Just coming out for some fresh air. No need to call for the car.”
This was the most foreign invasion of emotions I’d ever experienced. Damn you, Cameron Brandt. You had to be at that resort, didn’t you? I was just fine before I was reunited with you, of all the people in this world.
I felt a tear slip out of the corner of my eye. On top of everything, the women inside reminded me of how lonely I was. I’d spent a fantastic week with old friends from Seattle at the resort; now, I was back in Manhattan. Moving to New York for Warren’s promotion had taken me away from my friends, and on a night like tonight, I wished I could be with any one of them instead of being here.
I needed to knock it off. For God’s sake, Warren and I were getting married—well, once I finally settled on a wedding date. So why was I feeling like some emotionally broken woman suddenly? Fuck this noise in my head. I had a son to think about and a decent man in my life. And yet, here I was, leaning against a brick building, hidden in an alley, watching the steam cover the dark road. I watched as it rolled and crept like a ghost blanketing the ground.
“No, I’m not going down this road,” I said aloud. “Jackson loves his school. I was all about supporting Warren’s career move to come here, and now I’m having an emotional crisis because I saw Cam? No way.”
I stood up straight.
I was fine. More than anything, I was ready to see Jackson again. Only two more days before my parents would fly him home from Seattle, then everything would feel normal again.
