“There is no right or wrong, remember? Not when it comes to this.”
Tears spilled out of my eyes, and fog crept up on the edges of my glasses. “God,” I said with a small sob. “I was just horrible to your friend.”
“Yeah.” The word was sad, laden with disappointment, the edge dull but present nonetheless. “All he ever did was show up, Cam. That’s it. You showed him your ugliest side tonight, made him feel unwelcome and unwanted when your approval meant everything. Now he’s hurt, Bayleigh’s hurt, and no one even knew what to say. The whole thing was badly done, Cam. Really badly done.”
I sniffled, trying not to sob audibly as more tears fell.
“So, yes. I’m disappointed and embarrassed. You know, he’s one of the most genuine people I know, besides you. I thought you’d appreciate that about him, not insult him.”
“I’m so sorry. I hate that I did this. I hate that you’re angry.”
“I’m not angry, Cam. I mean, five minutes ago I was. But I know you. I know you’re sorry, and I know you’re probably punishing yourself worse than I could. Even when you’re wrong, you see it, acknowledge it.”
I sighed.
“Yeah, and don’t think I missed you being wrong again.”
A little laugh found its way out of me.
“Anyway, there’s a little bit of a silver lining.”
“Oh?”
“Nothing is beyond repair. You can make it right again.”
I thought about going back to apologize and filled with dread. “I don’t want to go back there. I can’t face them tonight.”
He squeezed my hand again. “Okay. Can I take you home?”
I turned my head so I could finally meet his eyes, eyes that were sad and forgiving. “Okay,” I said quietly.
Tyler smiled and slipped his hand into my hair, cupping the back of my head as he leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “Come on, then.”
So I picked myself up off the ground and tucked into his side, walking to the subway station in silence, counting my mistakes, one by one.
KEEP WALKING
Tyler
CAM TEXTED ROSE TO LET them know we wouldn’t be back, but she didn’t speak the whole way home, and neither did I — I was content to leave her with her thoughts, content to hug her in the silence, hold her hand, just breathe with her.
When she’d walked out of the bar, I’ll admit — I was livid. It took me a second to put on my shoes and chase her down, rolling through the tirade I planned to lay on her with every second that passed. But when I caught up to her and she ran into me, when she hit the ground and just lay there, eyes shining, brows furrowed, staring up at the sky, I knew she didn’t need to hear it from me. She already knew.
Sitting on the train, she was subdued, still and quiet, maybe more than I’d ever seen her, aside from when she was reading or sleeping. My arm was around her, and she leaned into my side, staring through our reflection in the window across from us.
I thought maybe we’d talk more when we got home, but I wasn’t willing to break the silence, happy to wait for her. So we moved through the apartment silently, readying for sleep. When our teeth were brushed, she took my hand, leading me into her bedroom where we climbed into bed. And when the light was off, she buried herself in my chest and breathed, a deep breath in, a long sigh out. And I held her, knowing it was all she needed from me.
“I’m going to make this right,” she finally said.
“I know you will,” I answered, and she sighed again, this time with the sound of letting go.
But I was awake long after her breath had slowed and she drifted away to sleep.
Bayleigh, Greg, Martin … that was the least of my concerns — I hadn’t missed the admission as we lay on the sidewalk. She was still afraid of us, of me. She worried she was wrong about us, and my frustration mounted, not understanding how she couldn’t know the thing that was most obvious to me. But even past that, I worried over what would happen to us if she imploded, blew us up from the inside.
The cold realization slipped over me that there was nothing I could do except what I was already doing. Be there, show up. She had to do the rest.
I sighed, pulling her a little closer, hoping with all my heart that she’d find a way to believe.
Cam
I woke the next morning resolute, plan in place, smile on my face. Tyler slept soundly, and my heart ached at the sight of him, the patient man who had his work cut out for him with me. I tried not to feel guilty, but it was no use. I was an asshole, and all I could do was try to atone.
Starting with muffins.
Tyler woke as I was pulling the second batch of lemon blueberry muffins out of the oven, and I smiled at him, feeling sheepish. But his smile was forgiving and he nodded sleepily at my work.
“You’ve been busy.”
I took off my oven mitt and poured him a cup of coffee. He stepped behind me as I was pouring, slipping his arms around me as he pressed a kiss into my hair.
“Grand apology: phase one. Coffee and muffins.”
“Smells good.”
“Tastes better.” I turned in his arms and stretched onto my tip-toes to kiss him. “Thank you. For understanding. For sticking with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Cam.”
I smiled, though it was tinged with remorse even still. “Here. Have a muffin.” I reached for the pan and grabbed a steaming pastry for him.
He took it, wetting his lips as he peeled the paper and took a bite. He moaned. “God, it’s so good.”