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Cameron
I push Shirlene’s front door open so hard it slams into the foyer wall. Steam must be coming out of my nostrils. I close the door shut with a thud, flip the deadbolt lock, and throw my keys on the hall table.
Shirlene jets out of the kitchen. “What’s going on out here?”
“There’s a man outside who says he’s looking for his fiancée, Aimee Bellerose.” I try to relax my jaw as I watch Shirlene’s hand fly up to her throat.
“Shit.” She dashes to the front dining room window and glances out.
“How long have you known about this guy?” I ask from the foyer.
Shirlene steps away from the window but stays near the dining table. “Mrs. Haddad called about an hour ago to say a man claiming to be engaged to Aimee showed up searching for her.”
“When did you plan on telling me?”
She snatches up a napkin from the table and blots her palms. “Don’t start with me, Cam. I didn’t want to text you something this significant. I planned to tell you as soon as you got home.”
“Well, he beat you to it. Apparently, he’s a singer. He claims to have been on tour with Aimee and that he proposed before she broke her contract and came home. He says the tour ended, and he’s come to see her.”
The doorbell rings.
“How the hell did he find me out here?”
“He says after my landlady slipped that Aimee was in New Jersey, he saw mail for me with this forwarding address on the hall table of my apartment building. He put two and two together.” I start for the door.
“Wait!”
“For what, Shirlene?”
“Who am I supposed to be?” She tosses the napkin on the table.
I lick my lips. “Aimee, I suppose. You’re going to have to break up with him.”
“No kidding,” she snaps.
The doorbell rings again. There’s a loud knock.
“If you don’t, I’ll do it for you. Aimee can’t be engaged to two men at once.”
Shirlene crosses into the foyer and comes within two feet of me. Her eyes are wild. “Are you and Aimee engaged?”
Pain shoots up my neck. “As far as my school administration knows, yes, we’re engaged.”
“Well, that’s news to me. Do you usually treat a fiancée like shit?”
There is pounding on the door. My head vibrates from the sound.
“Just open the damn thing before he knocks it down,” Shirlene growls.
I’m frozen. Shirlene bounds past me. She unlocks and opens the door. Her hands fall limp at her sides when the tall, trim, bearded redhead I met outside takes her into his arms. “My Aimee. My Aimee.” He nuzzles her neck.
My fingers itch to rip him off Shirlene. “Take it easy, man.”
He regards me like I am the third wheel on a Harley. “Could Aimee and I be alone?”
“Absolutely not.” Shirlene steps away from him.
“Who is this guy?” the redhead asks.
“I’m Cameron Michaels, Aimee’s fiancé.”
The man squares his broad shoulders. “You aren’t her fiancé. I am.”
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.” I force my fingers out of a fist.
“I’m Tristen MacKinney.”
If I weren’t so pissed, I’d laugh. Tristen. What the hell kind of name is that?
Arlene begins wailing from upstairs.
“Where’s Hattie?” I ask, hoping she can soothe Arlene.
“She went home.” Shirlene moves toward the steps.
“Whose baby is making all the racket?” Tristen tries to step past me, but I don’t budge.
“Um.” Shirlene grips the railing. “Cam’s niece. We’re going to raise her.”
Tristen shoves past me to reach Shirlene. “But, Aimee, we agreed not to have kids. I told you I have no desire to have children.”
Well, that explains a little about why Aimee apparently agreed to marry this jerk. She wasn’t feeling pressured to have a family. I should have given in on that, and we’d have been married. Maybe she’d be alive. My stomach rolls with guilt, and my chest fumes with rage. Aimee didn’t tell me about her engagement. The women in my life love to keep their secrets.
“Our careers come first. It’s what we discussed.” He reaches for Shirlene’s hand on the railing. Arlene wails.
“I’ve got to go to her.” Shirlene goes up.
“Can’t you deal with your niece right now?” he asks me.
“Listen, pal. You’re pushing your luck.”
“Aimee,” he calls up after her. “I need to talk to you. The woman who is in your apartment told me you had a stroke. Why wasn’t I notified?”
I push between him and the steps. “Notified? Who do you think you are?”
He grabs the top of my shirt. I shove him with all my power, and he slams against the newel post.
I look up at Shirlene, who is coming down the steps, holding our screaming baby. Shirlene’s face is bright red. “Get out of my house!”
“Yeah, get out,” I repeat to Tristen.
“Both of you!” Shirlene shouts. I’ve never heard her yell. “You’ve upset the baby. Both of you, out of my house now.”
She balances the baby on her hip, shoves me with her other hip, and grabs Tristen’s shirt. The two of us tumble out onto the ground, and the door slams shut. I swing at the body entangled with mine.
“No, wait. I have a new headshot scheduled for tomorrow. I can’t have my face messed up.” Tristen stumbles up onto his feet. “The day after tomorrow, I’ll be only too happy to kick your ass.”
“Are you joking, pretty boy?”
He dashes to the car parked across the street. “This isn’t over!” he yells as he drives away.
“Damn right, it’s not.”
I brush the grass from my pants and go to the front door. It’s locked. She’s really throwing me out too. I dig for my car keys, but my pocket is empty. I dumped them on the hall table. No phone either. I didn’t take it out of my back pocket. I scour the yard. It fell out when I landed on the ground. At least I have it. I hit Hattie’s number.
“Hattie, it’s Cameron. Shirlene has thrown me out.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“You’re not?”
“Frankly, young man. I’m not.”
This was not the reception I was expecting. But I need a good talking-to. “Hattie, can I come over?”
“Of course.”
I’m dressed for the meeting with my sub at school, and my running shoes are locked in Shirlene’s house. It will take me longer to cover the roughly three miles walking than running, but I start toward Lawnside. I could call a cab, but I think better when I’m moving on foot.
I’ve lost my perspective on everything. Why am I so angry with Shirlene? Maybe I’m angry and taking it out on Shirlene, which is stupid as shit. When I reach Warwick Road, I run the last stretch to Hattie’s. These shoes are going to kill my feet, but I can’t stand going this slowly.
“Where’s your car?” Hattie asks when she lets me into her well-kept house.
“At Shirlene’s.” I grimace. “My keys were inside after she tossed me out.”
“Too proud to knock?”
“Afraid she wouldn’t answer.”
“Probably wouldn’t.” Hattie goes to her kitchen, and I follow.
Although I’ve never been in her home, it looks much like I imagined it would after dropping her off here a few times. It’s filled with photos, African art, and books, and everything is neat and clean.
I peek out her back door to her lovely garden. “Your mums are beautiful.”
“I have some iced tea, and we can sit out there. Or would you prefer a beer?”
“A beer, please. You’re going to set me straight, and I need a little fortification.”
Hattie throws her head back and laughs.
The phone rings. “Hello.” Hattie hands me a bottle and bottle opener.
She listens, and I have the feeling it’s Shirlene.
“He’s here.” Hattie snags herself a beer. “No, I won’t. He’s staying here.” She turns to me. “You’re staying in the guest room, aren’t you?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, and I’m honored to be invited. “Cameron’s taking me out to dinner. I’ll bring him back over in the morning. I’ll talk to you then. It’s like Peyton Place around here with you two.” She ends the call, opens her beer, and pours it into a tall glass. “Come on out back.”
I follow her into a lush garden in its final bloom. We sit at a patio table.
“Hattie, this is beautiful.”
“Thank you. It’s my slice of heaven.”
“That’s evident.” I take a sip of my beer. “So, what did Shirlene have to say?”
She rolls her eyes. “Flowers arrived from the other fiancé.”
“Man, he doesn’t waste any time.” I grind my teeth. “And why didn’t Aimee tell me about him? I thought we were best friends, but she never mentioned being engaged. Now, this guy is trying to win her back, only it’s Shirlene he’s wooing.”
“He must have driven directly to—or phoned—a florist after she threw you both out.”
“He had his car keys.” I drink more beer.
“True. He also has another advantage.” Hattie smirks slyly.
“What the hell, Hattie? You’re not making me feel any better.”
“I’m not trying to.”
“What’s his advantage?”
She chuckles. “You’re acting like—”
“An ass?”
“I was going to say, ‘a man.’”
“And this Tristen isn’t?” I take another swig of my beer.
“No. He’s acting like a lover. That’s his biggest advantage at the moment.”
Two monarch butterflies flit and flutter around the nearby flowers.
“But Shirlene isn’t in love with him. I hope she’s still in love with me.”
“There’s only so much malarkey Shirlene is going to tolerate from you. You’re taking your anger out on her. Stan, although he was a wonderful husband in many ways, passive-aggressively took out all his unresolved feelings on Shirlene after Danny was killed. I can tell you with confidence that she won’t go through it a second time.”
I quickly polish off my beer as the butterflies float away.
“But Shirlene can’t be taking this guy seriously. What’s she going to do—pretend to be Aimee, or tell him the truth? It’s ridiculous.”
Hattie tilts her head and peers over the rim of her glasses. “The distraction of a doting, handsome man is never ridiculous.”
I wipe sweat from my eyes. “So you’re saying that although Tristen—God, I hate his name—doesn’t really have a chance, he’s making me look bad.”
“Only because you’ve lost your way, Cameron. You used to be practically perfect. Shirlene and I couldn’t imagine why you were single.”
“Aimee.” I realize there are tears, not sweat, on my face. “I couldn’t get over Aimee.”
“And the fact that she hurt you deeply.”
I can only nod.
“Until Shirlene. You finally risked again, and you assume she abandoned you and Arlene for her dead husband and son.”
I struggle to speak. “She did.”
“No!” Hattie’s sharp voice takes my breath away.
I nod. Guilt gnaws at my gut. “I know. Shirlene tried to explain it to me, but...”
Hattie’s hand comes down on the glass-top table. “Shirlene explained to Stan that she wasn’t drinking when Danny was killed, but he never believed her. Don’t you see? She can’t stay with a man who refuses to believe her.”
“I don’t know how to move past everything,” I admit.
“I recommend you go to the beach house. Alone. The sea air will help.”