Page 96 of I Loved You First

She paused as she swallowed. Then she swallowed again, struggling to keep her composure and her voice upbeat.

“I had the very best time being your best friend this summer. Have so much fun at big kid school. You’re going to do great, Brady.”

“Bye, buddy,” she said as she smiled and waved, then kissed her hand, showing him her palm before she ended the video.

“No,” Cam said as he rushed to his feet, booking it to the door and his truck, quickly getting behind the wheel.

He reversed with a squeal of tires, heading toward Stella’s place with his foot heavy on the gas, well aware that Fiona hadn’t told his son that she would see him at Thanksgiving or Christmas. Because Fi would never promise Brady something she didn’t plan to deliver.

Two miles rolled into three before he turned onto Ivy Spring Street, coming to an abrupt stop in front of the house. He was slightly relieved that Stella’s Camry was parked in the driveway.

Getting out, he jogged up the steps as Stella opened the door, looking less than pleased as she stood dressed for the day in a pair of denim capris and a T-shirt.

“Cam.”

“Tell me she’s still here.”

Stella shook her head. “She thought it was probably time to get back to her life. She flew out on a red-eye last night.”

Raking his hand through his hair, he steamed out a breath, absorbing the proverbial punch to the stomach as he stared at the porch.

“It’s funny how life has a way of coming full circle.”

He looked up, catching Stella’s drift easily enough. Ally was back, and Fiona was gone.

Stella reached for something, handing him an adorable blue multi-dinosaur backpack and a box of Legos. “Fiona bought these for Brady. She thought sharing them might make your situation worse, but I’ll let you decide.”

“I didn’t mean for her to leave.”

Stella shrugged. “Maybe it’s for the best this time.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not.”

Her shoulders moved again. “There’s only ever been one man who’s managed to make my daughter as happy as he has sad. Go on home to your son, Cameron.” With that, Stella closed the door.

Walking back to his truck, he got in, staring at the monogrammed backpack Fi had been excited to give Brady. How the hell was he supposed to tell his son that she was gone? Brady was going to be heartbroken. He was heartbroken.

“Fuck!” he yelled, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. This wasn’t at all what he’d wanted or meant when he told Fi they needed to take a couple of steps back.

Picking up his phone, he dialed her number, listening to it ring.

“This is Fiona Willis. Leave me a message, and I’ll call you back.”

“Fi,” he said, relieved that she hadn’t blocked him this time. “Please call me back. Please talk to me. Please don’t let this be the way things end.”

Then he hung up, clenching his jaw as he rested his head against the seat, struggling not to lose his shit. Because he knew in his gut that Fi wouldn’t return his call. He also knew she wouldn’t be coming back to Maple Ridge.

Suddenly, the alarm on his phone went off, reminding him that he had a meeting with Darius. With little choice, he lifted his head and turned over the engine. Things were about as bad as they got, but Brady’s needs still came first.

Fiona leaned against the pillows piled high against her headboard, staring out at the skyline as the sun cast the city in a soft shade of pink. She needed to get up. Her VIP was expecting her for an early breakfast meeting, yet she couldn’t make herself move.

It was safe to say she was exhausted after her late-night, cross-country flight. Jet lag was not a new feeling, but she could do without the heart-crushing melancholy that kept her wiping at her damp cheeks.

Closing her eyes, she shook her head, exhaling an unsteady breath, missing Cam and Brady. It was still sinking in that yesterday’s happy impromptu breakfast had been their last—that it would be a long, long time before they saw each other again, if they ever did. But leaving had been the right thing to do. Their goodbye had been inevitable. Ally’s surprise return only expedited a painful process.

“You just need to go to work,” she reassured herself as she sat up, wiping away more tears. Because getting lost in her job always helped. But she worried because she tried that yesterday on the Boston-bound bus and again on her flight, only to find herself horribly distracted, which was something she never let happen.

Sinking back against her pillows, she sighed. Everything about leaving Vermont felt different this time—even more dreadful, if that was possible.