He tips his head at me. “You want me to stay? You don’t have to do this alone. We’re a team now.”
I nod, and so we sit together while I call, and I put it on speaker phone so Henry can hear what Cam says.
The conversation is brief. “It’s me,” I say when Cam answers. “You’re on speaker phone, and Henry’s with me.”
“What do you want?” he says gruffly.
“I wanted to let you know that I’m moving in with Henry. And I want to come back to the apartment and pick up some things.” I wait, heart racing.
Cam’s silent for a moment. Then he says, “Whatever.”
“Are you at the apartment?”
“No, I’m at Mum and Dad’s. We’ve had to call the doctor out. She freaked when I told her we’d broken up. She’s had a complete meltdown.”
I press my fingers to my lips, hating the thought of Kathy being upset. But it’s not my responsibility now. Henry strokes my back, and that gives me the courage to go on.
“Okay. I’ll pick up what I can,” I whisper. “Then later we’ll have to talk about you taking over the rent.”
“Fine.” He speaks curtly, maybe upset that I didn’t say I’d come over and help.
“Bye.” I end the call, shaking like a leaf, but relieved it’s done.
Henry pulls me back into his arms. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Well done.”
I bury my face in his shoulder. “Why’s it so hard? I just want him out of my life.”
“I know. But we can take something positive from that call.”
I move back a little, trying not to cry. “What?”
“He told his parents that you’ve broken up.” Henry lifts my chin and looks into my eyes. “He’s accepted it’s over. That’s a big step for him.”
Tears tip over my lashes. “I want to be happy,” I say, sniffling, “I don’t want the shadow of my past hanging over me.”
“I know. But it’s a fresh wound at the moment, that’s all. It’ll heal. He ra ki tua.” It means better times are coming.
I let him hug me, trying to believe him. Cam is my past. Henry and the baby are my future. He’s right; I just have to be patient, and let time heal me.
Chapter Thirty
Juliette
Our first week together isn’t quite the blissfully happy time I’d hoped for.
I wish I could say that the two of us sailed off into the sunset with no other problems. But I swing between ecstasy and… well, not despair, but some kind of misery that takes the shine off my happiness with Henry. It makes me angry and resentful, but Henry remains calm and cheerful, insisting it’s not a problem. He has me, he says, and that’s all that matters. Everything else we can deal with.
I’m not so sure. I don’t know whether it’s the new baby hormones raging through my system, or my incredibly strong sense of duty that I’m starting to hate, but I feel wracked with guilt, and I’m conscious it’s like acid, eating away into my new life.
The source of my heartache is, of course, my ex. Because that’s what Cam is now, despite his unwillingness to accept the title. He said that he told his parents we’d broken up, but he seems to think it’s a temporary state of affairs. He calls me every day and texts me frequently, telling me how Alan and his wife are struggling, how his mother is descending into the deepest depression he’s seen, how his father is on the verge of walking out, and how he himself misses me. I tell him he doesn’t love me, and he only wants me because I’d sort out a lot of his problems for him, but he insists that isn’t the case, even though his behavior isn’t loving by any means.
Henry is surprisingly patient with him. “He had you and he lost you,” he tells me. “Of course the guy’s unhappy.” Worried that he’s thinks Cam’s going to influence me, I always put him on speaker and stay in the room so Henry can listen to the conversation, but he remains quiet and lets me deal with Cam as best as I can.
Things come to a head when, on Thursday evening, Cam calls me while we’re having dinner.
After a stressful week, I don’t want to talk to him. Henry surveys me, though, and to my surprise he says, “Go on, talk to him.”
I answer it and put it on speaker. Cam starts speaking immediately, hysterical and upset as he tells me that Kathy is out of control, that his father has walked out, that he doesn’t know what to do, and that I have to help. I start crying, and for the first time, Henry intervenes.