Cam carried the glass of wine into the living room and handed it to Blake, who was sitting quietly on the sofa, her body turned to stare out at the dark beach through the window.
“Mm, thanks,” she said as she took the refilled glass.
“Are you warm enough?” Cam asked, settling in on the other side of the sofa. The fire was putting off some good heat now. She hoped it was enough to keep both Blake and Alberto warm.
Blake sipped her drink. “Mm. This is so good. I had no idea you were into wine.” She eyed the coffee mug Cam was drinking from. “Do you ever enjoy any or are you just a collector?”
Cam returned the mug to the table next to her. “I drink it. Otherwise I wouldn’t bother chilling it.” She nodded toward Blake’s glass of chilled Chardonnay.
Cam expected her to snap back at her, offended.
She laughed. “Smart-ass.” She took another sip and made another noise of approval. “What is this?”
“A Chardonnay.”
“I know that.”
“That’s a 2017, Rombauer Chardonnay.”
Blake seemed to be impressed. “A very nice, rather costly bottle of wine if I’m not mistaken.”
Cam shrugged. “Cost isn’t something I worry a great deal about.”
“This is, what, a three-hundred-dollar bottle of wine? And that’s not something you worry about? You must not drink very often.”
“It wasn’t quite three hundred and you’re mistaken about how often I drink.”
She laughed softly. “Dare I ask how often?”
Cam met her gaze. “Nightly.”
She looked surprised. “You drink wine this expensive every night?”
“Like I said, I don’t pay much mind to cost. What I do care about is whether or not it’s good. But to answer your question more directly, yes, I have wine every evening, but no, I don’t think about what it cost.”
“If you enjoy it that much, then why aren’t you having any tonight?”
Cam hadn’t expected to be asked that and it took her a moment to figure out how to answer.
“I’m worried about Alberto. I want to keep a clear head.” It was the truth, just not the complete truth. The real reason why she wanted to keep a clear head was sitting across from her on the couch, drinking her Chardonnay. She didn’t want to risk doing or saying anything foolish.
Blake seemed to accept that explanation. She gazed down at Bo. He was draped next to her, his head in her lap while Bingo lay on the floor in front of her. That left Byron, Cam’s ever faithful companion. He wasn’t currently snuggled up to Blake, but that wasn’t because he didn’t want to be. He just couldn’t seem to shove aside his brothers to get to her. He came up to Cam and rested his chin in her lap, pouting. She stroked his head.
“I don’t feel sorry for you at all. I know the only reason you’re here giving me those sad eyes is because you can’t get to her. I know I’m now chopped liver.”
“Does it really bother you?” Blake asked. “That the dogs like me so much?”
It was another unexpected question and Cam glanced over at her as she considered her response. The sight of her sitting on her couch, in a simple long-sleeved shirt and a pair of blue jeans, all cuddled up with her dogs, stirred Cam so powerfully she tried to make herself look away. But the firelight was breathing upon her face and setting off sparks in her eyes. The fact that her presence alone seemed to be threatening the tranquility of her home and the careful construction of her emotional ambivalence couldn’t win against the way she looked at that moment.
To Cam it looked like, felt like…she belonged there.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.”
Cam moved her gaze from Blake to Alberto, fearing Blake had seen too much in her eyes. Alberto was snoring softly in the chair by the fireplace, covered by one of his colorful hand-made blankets. But looking at him didn’t help Cam much because she recalled the kind, gentle way Blake had been with him. Watching her with him made Cam realize that Blake had a heart after all. Another reason why her presence was a threat to the life Cam now knew.
Thank God I’m not drinking.
“Sure, it bothers me,” Cam said, surprising Blake.
She had to say something to bring herself out of her thoughts.
“I adopted the three of them together when they were pups. I’m all they’ve ever had, ever known really. They’ve been my constant companions, my best friends, my family. And then in walks you,” she said, looking over at her. “Someone they don’t even know, and off they go, without giving me a second thought. So, I can’t help but feel rejected in being so easily replaced.” She stroked Byron and lifted his chin with her fingertips. “You little heathen. You’re breaking my heart.” He wagged his tail.
“You know they aren’t rejecting you. Or replacing you. No one can do that. They’re just excited at having someone new around. Someone…different. And based on their overzealousness with me, I’m guessing that having someone else around is a rare occurrence.”
“That’s not true. I take them everywhere I can. They’re around all kinds of people all the time.”
“But what about here, in their home?”
“Sometimes, yes. I have friends who come by.”
“Who? Tomas?”
“Yes. And a couple of others.”
“What about women?”
“What about them?”
She smiled. “There hasn’t been any recently has there? Friend or otherwise?”
Cam averted her gaze again, but she could still feel Blake’s eyes burning the side of her face. That was nothing compared to the burning in her gut. The questioning had now officially become too much to handle. Cam stared into the fire, wanting desperately to get up and run out the door, to tear across the sand and into the sea where she could wade out without looking back, until the cold water was deep enough to envelop her and carry her away.
But she couldn’t take things that far. Not even in her mind. She couldn’t go back to that dark place. And even if she moved to run at all, even to just escape out onto the patio where she could inhale large lungfuls of salty air, Blake would notice and she’d wonder why.
So, she sat, staring into the fire, petting her dog, hoping Blake would lose interest or move on to another topic.
“There hasn’t been someone for a while has there?” The sharp edges of her voice had been sanded and smoothed throughout the evening, and this inquiry sounded like more of a quiet observation, one that she was careful in bringing up, rather than a probing question.
“No,” Cam managed.
And you can’t ask more.
Because I won’t be able to answer.
Cam drew a deep breath and checked her watch for distraction. “Is it time to check him again?”
Blake was silent for a long moment, but Cam didn’t dare turn to look at her.
“It’s a little early yet,” she finally said.
Another long silence stretched between them before Blake spoke again.
“So, what do you do, Cam? Do you go into work somewhere or have you left the mad world behind to retire here in this beautiful home on this beautiful beach?”
These were the very questions she usually made a point to avoid answering. She’d become somewhat of an expert at it, too. Skirting around the answers, giving as little information as she could and then leading people on to something else with distractions. Most accepted that or sensed her unwillingness to share the details of her life and let it be. Blake though? She was beginning to believe she wouldn’t let anything go.
“I don’t go into work.” She didn’t have to leave the house in order to do her job. “But I’m not retired, either,” she said, sipping her coffee. I haven’t been producing the past few years, but I haven’t retired. And with the way things are currently going with my newfound creative drive, I’m very hopeful I won’t have to for a long, long while.
“So you work from home? Or are you just independently wealthy?”
Cam wanted to return Blake’s playful smile, her mouth even twitched in an attempt.
“No. I’ve earned my money.”
“What do you do, then?”
I know she’s seen me coming and going in dirty jeans and work boots, carrying my tool belt. So she must know more than she’s letting on. Why the careful questioning?
“I mostly help friends and their families with the renovations on their homes or other projects.”
She nodded and sipped her wine. “But that’s not what you do for money.” She set her glass on the end table and pinned Cam with her penetrating eyes. “You said you didn’t have to leave home for work. So, that must mean the renovating you do, you do because you enjoy it and because you like helping people.”
“Yes.”
Blake waited, watching her closely. Cam didn’t give her any more.
“You’ve done an amazing job on your home,” she finally said, looking around. “Are you planning on selling and starting in on a new one?”
“No. I’m not going to sell. This is my home,” Cam said sternly.
The logs in the fireplace crackled and sparked, as if they, too, felt the effect of Cam’s tone. The largest piece of wood split, causing the others to shift and a wave of heat pressed into Cam’s skin as if to exacerbate her agitation.
“Is that how you got injured?” Blake asked delicately, like she was well aware of the dangerous ground she was now walking on. “Doing renovating work like that?”
Cam lost her breath. Pain, icy cold and sharp, attacked everything in her, rendering her mute and unable to move. The only part of her that seemed to be functioning was her heart and it was thumping, thundering, crying out in sheer terror and torture as the pain sieged it.
Cam sat with a death grip on a throw pillow, her thinking and breathing bordering on panic. Deep inside she was screaming for help, for a way out. But no one could hear her. They weren’t close enough, couldn’t see that far inside her. Not because they didn’t want to. But because she hadn’t let them. Wouldn’t let them.
She was alone.
Battling an unwinnable war alone.