Loving You Always (20 page)

“This is another Christmas gift for you.” Walsh grabbed her hand and walked with her, pushing her in Cam’s direction, watching their quick, awkward hug.

“Cam?” She looked up at her ex-husband, once Walsh’s best friend. She wasn’t sure what he was to them now, or who had reached out to whom, but she sensed a definite shift since the last time they’d been in the same room together.

“We’ve kind of been talking a little.” Cam slid one hand into the pocket of his black leather sports coat.

“A couple of times by phone,” Walsh chimed in, reaching for Kerris’s hand. “At first, more for the promise my mom had you make than anything else.”

“Yeah.” Cam’s smile slipped a little. “Speaking of which, I left something in the car. Be right back.”

He dashed back out the door and down the steps. Kerris turned to Walsh, raising her brows before she voiced the question.

“Are you okay?”

“Hey, I don’t know if it’ll ever be the same between us,” Walsh admitted with a rueful smile. “It’s still a little awkward. How could it not be? But we both want to try. Are
you
okay with it?”

“Walsh, this is the best gift you could’ve given me.” She twined her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest. When Cam came back through the door, she jerked her head up, stepping away.

“It’s okay, Kerris.” Cam laughed, his eyes more serious than his smile. “I do know you guys are married now. We have a lot to put behind us, but it’s behind us. Okay?”

“Okay.” She split a smile between the two men who had been the most special in her life. “Then I want my gift.”

Cam waved her back into the living room, where Jo had returned and the others were waiting. Jo had obviously apprised Martin and Mama Jess of the situation because they all watched the three of them coming through the door with varying degrees of skepticism and fascination.

“Hey, everybody,” Cam greeted casually, as if he hadn’t been the eye of the three-way storm he, Kerris, and Walsh had lived through over the last few years. Everyone greeted him easily enough, eyeing him with guarded hospitality.

“Well, ain’t you a sight,” Mama Jess said, crossing her hands over her midriff and her feet at the ankles. “They ain’t got barbers in Paris?”

Cam ran one hand through the dark hair hanging around his neck, giving her the smile that had never met a woman it couldn’t charm.

“He probably thinks it adds to his artist allure now that he’s gotten a taste of the big-time,” Walsh said.

Cam looked uncomfortable for a minute before rolling his eyes and rocking back on the heels of his black Italian leather boots. Paris must be treating him well.

“Yeah, that’s it, Bennett,” Cam said, coating the words in sarcasm.

“Did I miss something?” Martin asked. “You’re famous now, Cam?”

“No, sir.” Cam took off his coat and folded it over his arm.

“He’s being modest, Uncle Martin.” Jo linked her arm with Cam’s, leaning into his shoulder. “Someone made a documentary about Cam’s graffiti art in Paris and it won at Sundance.”

“I was just in the right place at the right time.” Cam tugged Jo’s hair and smiled at her wince. “Holding a can of spray paint.”

“And the two music videos that just featured your paintings?” Jo demanded, her face wearing a proud smile. “Was that a fluke?”

“Maybe not,” Cam said, giving her a fond shake. “You should keep all the sketches I’ve ever given you. They might be worth something some day.”

“I have every one of them.” Jo bit her lip and looked like she wanted to gobble the telling words back up.

Cam watched Jo an extra second before smiling and dropping a quick kiss on her hair, speaking before the silence grew awkward.

“Speaking of keeping my sketches, I have a little something for Walsh and Kerris.”

He presented the large square he’d brought back inside with him to Walsh before settling down on the couch beside Jo, draping her shoulder with his arm. Walsh carefully pulled away the brown paper shrouding the gift. He peered down at the canvas in his hands. He looked up at Cam’s somber face. Kerris saw Walsh swallow, gulping back the emotion she knew he had to be fighting. He slowly turned it around so that everyone could see.

Kerris’s breath caught at the beauty of it. It was Kristeene. The rich colors of the painting had been skillfully muted so that the most vibrant, most alive, most striking thing in the entire painting was her eyes. They were lit with the otherworldly gleam Kerris had noticed in her last days: a look of hard-won peace that only those facing death’s inevitable call could acquire. It was that resigned contentment, that gritty grace she’d gained in her horrific battle with cancer, but set in the face Kerris remembered when she’d first met her. Smooth and unlined by pain. Laughing, the regal bones pronounced against the smooth skin.

Kerris turned her head in the direction of a choked sound, astounded to see Martin Bennett struggling to his feet and walking over to stand beside Walsh, his fingers trembling as he traced the artful strokes of the painting.

“I sketched her that last day at the hospital before she went home for good,” Cam said, returning the squeeze Jo consoled his hand with.

“It’s magnificent,” Walsh breathed, blinking back tears. “You captured her perfectly, man. I can’t thank you enough.”

Kerris’s eyes locked with Cam’s in perfect understanding. This was as close to a blessing as they’d ever get from him. She mouthed “thank you,” smiling when his olive skin reddened and he inclined his head, acknowledging her gratitude.

“I have the sketch.” Cam rose from the couch and reached into his back pocket. He pulled out a folded sheet of sketch paper, extending it to Martin. “Been carrying this around for a long time.”

Martin fixed his eyes on the likeness Cam had sketched in charcoal, firming his lips into a straight line.

“You can have it,” Cam offered with a half-smile to Walsh’s father.

“Thank you,” Martin said, his voice heavy with barely checked emotion.

Kerris glanced over at Meredith and Mama Jess, the only family she’d had for a long time, their loyalty the only thing she’d been able to count on during her long year of recovery. Somehow, miraculously, she had found Mama Jess again, and their bond had survived the worst circumstances and years of living apart.

Then there was Jo and Cam, now huddled on the couch, teasing and tickling each other, falling into their friendly intimacy like a habit they could never break. Blocking out the rest of the world like they often did. Tuning into each other and tuning out everything else. Kerris’s heart lifted with possibility for them. Maybe finally…maybe one day…maybe soon.

And then Kerris’s eyes fell on Walsh, who chose that moment to look up from the painting he still held and into her eyes. The same thread that had always stretched between them pulled strong, invisible, unbreakable. She saw her future in those eyes. The children she’d longed for; the family she’d coveted. As a little girl, she had prayed for a home, and he was that. He was her country. His heart was her homeland.

And he and Cam were in the same room, not snarling at each other, but forging new bonds of friendship, repairing the old.

Kristeene Bennett’s face stared back at her from the heavy canvas, and Kerris felt a weight lift under those resolved eyes. Did she know that Kerris had kept her promise? Was she watching them even now? Did Kristeene gain a measure of peace from their reconciliation? And then Kerris understood. The promise had not been for Kristeene’s peace of mind, but for theirs. Kerris touched her stomach, a smile playing across her mouth. Their future was growing inside of her, and she could face it with the clear heart of a promise kept.

There were several signs that Kennedy Ryan would be a writer, but making up stories with a mop as her long-haired heroine while the other kids played kick ball may have been the most telling. After graduating with her journalism degree from UNC–Chapel Hill (GO, HEELS!), she found various means of gainful employment having absolutely nothing to do with said degree, but knew she would circle back to writing, in some form or fashion. After years of working and writing for nonprofit organizations, she finally returned to her first love—telling stories.

In an alternative universe and under her government name, Tina Dula, she is wife to Sam, mom to Myles, and a friend to those living with autism. A portion of her royalties will go toward her foundation, Myles-A-Part, serving Georgia families, and to her national charitable partner, Talk About Curing Autism (TACA).

You can learn more at:

KennedyRyanWrites.com

Twitter: @KennedyRWrites

Facebook.com

N
o one could ever accuse Cam Mitchell’s eyes of being just blue or just gray. They were instead a mesmerizing intercourse of the two colors. A gorgeous, God-spun mixture of sea and clouds. At least that’s how Jo Walsh had always thought of them. She couldn’t see them right now with Cam’s forehead pressed to the viewing window.

Watching him unobserved for a moment was a privilege. The dark hair, always unruly, fell around his neck, undecided about whether to wave or curl. The broad shoulders pushed forward and his hands burrowed into the pockets of the jeans it had taken this long to look that good. He banged his head against the window, lightly enough that the babies on the other side wouldn’t be disturbed. But maybe just hard enough to hurt a little.

The
clack-clack
of her four-inch Manolos brought Cam’s head swiveling in her direction. Jo drew in the bracing breath she always needed at the first sight of him after a long time. She kept thinking, kept hoping that one day Cam wouldn’t affect her this way. That her heart wouldn’t seize with disbelief that any man could be this beautiful in real life. That all the steel-reinforced walls she’d erected wouldn’t topple when that blazing white smile flashed at her like lighting. She was never fully prepared for that smile, always a bolt to her unsuspecting system.

Only there was no smile tonight.

Sadness cloaked and slumped Cam’s shoulders and turned down the corners of his mouth. He offered her those one-of-a-kind eyes for a few moments before considering the babies again without saying a word.

Jo slid damp palms across the soft material clinging to her hips. She had just gotten back to the office after a fund-raising luncheon when Cam called. She still wore the Kelly green dress outlining her every asset. Convenient. She hadn’t had time to think about what she would wear or how she would style her hair or any of the nonsense she typically considered when she knew she’d see Cam.

A lot of good it ever did her.

She stepped into the space beside him, turning her head to consider his rugged profile.

“You doing okay?” Jo pressed the tips of her fingers to the glass separating them from the infants.

“You mean since we last talked, or since I had to stand in for Walsh with Kerris in the delivery room?”

Jo caught the wince before it made it to her face, but inside she ached for Cam. He’d fled to Paris after Amalie’s death. Stayed there while Walsh wooed Kerris. He had done so well for himself away from them, but she’d always known he’d be back. The thing Cam wanted more than anything in the world had been a family. With Aunt Kris gone, Jo, Walsh, even Kerris—they might be the closest he’d ever come. But to be drawn into the pulsing center of Kerris and Walsh’s new life together had to be hard. Had to resurrect feelings he might have thought settled.

“I’m sorry it happened like that, Cam.”

He finally looked away from his boots and the babies long enough to offer her one of those smiles that, without any real effort, punched a hole in her chest where her heart used to be before Cam stole it over fifteen years ago. Some days, she didn’t think she’d ever get it back. She didn’t really have much use for it anyway.

“It’s fine.” Cam drew his dark brows into a quick frown. “I mean, it’s shit, but it’s fine.
I’m
fine. How’s Kerris and the girls?”

Even Jo couldn’t govern the joy that pressed its way past her impassive expression.

“Kerris is fine. The girls are gorgeous. In ICU, of course, but that’s pretty standard for preemies.”

“Names?”

“Brooklin and Harlim.” Jo snorted. “We’re lucky it’s not Apple and Orange, I guess.”

Cam added a grin to the knowing look he slid over to her. They had always teased Walsh about his “high life” in the city. Jo might never miss Fashion Week in New York, and she might make regular shopping pilgrimages to Paris, but to her Rivermont was home. Had always been. Would always be.

“How is Walsh?” Cam’s mouth dropped the smile it had managed to hold on to for a few seconds.

“As you would expect, going crazy because he can’t get here at the speed of light. Probably making everyone in a twenty-mile radius miserable.”

“That sounds right.” Cam turned to face her, shoulder to the glass. “I didn’t want to see them. The twins, I mean. Even now, I can’t see them. I don’t know when I’ll be able to.”

Jo ran a steady hand through the hair hanging around her shoulders so she wouldn’t reach for him.

“I know seeing Walsh and Kerris—”

“It’s not Walsh and Kerris.” Cam raised a thick fan of lashes to look at her, eyes unshielded. “What if the twins look like Amalie?”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to Jo. Of course, they could look like Amalie, the daughter Kerris and Cam had lost. Brooklin and Harlim shared half the DNA Amalie had died with.

“I’m so sorry, Cam.” What else was there to say?

“It’s like every time I think I can get past this…debacle between the three of us, and I can maybe be in their lives on some terms, something pushes me back out. Maybe I’m just meant to be…”

Alone
.

He didn’t say it, but Jo had always known, even when Cam would vacation with them, sleep over at the house, laugh and even cry with them, that some part of him was always alone. Even she, closer to him than anyone else, knew there were places in Cam’s life and in his heart not even she could go.

“They want you in their lives,” Jo said, feeling like an idiot for saying it, but knowing it was true.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see. Some things just aren’t worth the hurt.” Cam whooshed air from his chest and pulled his lips into that smile he used to change the subject. “So, you staying here or what?”

“No, Kerris is asleep, resting. The nurses are with the girls. Mama Jess and Meredith just got here, actually. They’re with Kerris.” Jo glanced at the ALOR watch circling her wrist. “I’m done. Been in constant motion since four o’clock this morning. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Walsh said I could stay at their place, of course.”

“By yourself? Or you could stay with me. We could catch up.”

Jo raised an imperious eyebrow and cocked her head to the side.

“Oh, so now you want to catch up. Where have you been for the last six months? Why have you been ignoring me?”

“Jo, I’ve been busy.”

“Don’t do that.” Some hybrid of a sigh and a laugh slipped past her lips. “Not to me.”

He looked at her, his eyes hiding more from her than usual, before they dropped and slid down the length of her body, pausing at her breasts, caressing the line of her waist. She felt that look like a hand skimming over her and shuddered at even the thought of Cam’s intimate touch. Something heated up between them, fogging her judgment. It felt like attraction. Felt like chemistry. Felt like something she had hoped for before with Cam, but knew she’d never have.

Jo shook off the effects of that look, wondering if she was going a little crazy. Maybe her feverish mind, always hot and usually bothered around Cam, had conjured that moment. It wouldn’t be the first time she read too much into a look or a feeling with this man. For example, at Christmas, she had sensed…she had thought…she had hoped…but nothing had materialized. Cam had gone dark, and she hadn’t heard from him until today.

She was just about to clear her throat, but he beat her to it.

“I’m staying at the Chevalier.”

Wow. Jo knew between the inheritance Aunt Kris had left him and the money his art had generated the last year or so he had to be sitting pretty, but hearing he was staying at the Chevalier still surprised her. People like Walsh wore wealth. Not as clothing, but as skin. As scent. It had been woven into the fibers of who they were since birth. Walsh could walk into a room naked and you’d assume he came from money. It was in his bearing. In the way he looked at the world like he owned most of it because in some ways, he did. Jo knew this because she was the same.

Even though Jo, with her trained eye, recognized the fine Italian leather of the boots hiding under Cam’s weathered jeans, she knew Cam didn’t carry wealth the way she and Walsh did. He never seemed uneasy with it. More like he’d simply added it to all the other baggage he was carting around.

“The Chevalier, huh?” Jo turned down the corners of her mouth and offered a ladylike grunt. “I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be. A, uh…friend has a suite there, and she’s letting me crash.”

That
was more like it. The sizzling moment she had imagined with Cam moments before fizzled into nothing. She’d watched a parade of women march through Cam’s life for more than a decade. Not shocking that some woman was so enamored she’d offer him a suite at one of the most luxurious hotels in the world.

“You sure it’s okay for me to stay?”

“Yeah, of course. She’s in Paris.” Cam pushed away from the glass and linked his arm through Jo’s and started toward the elevators. “She’s not coming to the States until next week and wouldn’t mind anyway. There’s two bedrooms in the suite.”

“I’ll just call Pierce, Uncle Martin’s driver.” Jo pulled her phone from her Bottega Veneta hobo. “He picked me up and has my bags. We can bum a ride to the hotel if you want.”

“Sounds great.” Cam glanced once more over his shoulder at the infants through the glass. “I need a drink. I didn’t see my day turning out like this.”

Seeing Cam after he’d ignored her for the last six months. Witnessing Walsh’s twin girls come into the world. The day had held more than one surprise. And she couldn’t prove it, but she felt like there might be more to come.