******
Cami
******
When I stir in bed, it is still dark outside. Wait, it was light when I went to sleep. I can feel Tristan wrapped around me and his breath caressing my shoulder. I manage to bring my eyes to the clock. It’s four thirty in the morning. I’ve slept for nearly twelve hours, but I feel as though I could fall right back to sleep. If it weren’t for feeling Tristan at my back, I would’ve panicked when I woke up, but I realize this isn’t a dream.
I’ve been walking around in this dream-like state for weeks — barely getting through life, barely breathing. But for the first time since all of the Bobby bullshit started, I finally feel like the weight of the world is gone from my shoulders.
Other things start to come to me, all the things I’ve neglected these last six weeks: the house, Bold, Tristan, us, and life.
When I discovered I was pregnant, I panicked about what Tristan would think, what he would say. I was so afraid he’d be angry with me, and I can tell that I was extremely stupid about that and it kills me knowing what I know now. His reaction to the way I look reiterates the fact that I was wrong; he’s not disgusted or turned off by it. When we climbed into the bathtub, and even when we crawled out, he had an erection, and even when we crawled into bed, it hadn’t gone away, but he made no move to do anything about it, putting my needs before his own. After everything I’ve put him through, I am so selfish.
I can’t lie here anymore. But I can’t move either. I wouldn’t move if I didn’t feel as though my bladder were going to explode. I move slowly, hoping and praying that he will stay asleep. I’ve managed to move his arm, and his breathing hasn’t changed. Sliding off of the bed slowly and quietly, I race toward the bathroom.
Then I realize that this is the first morning I’ve woken up without the pressing need to throw up, and I smile a little bit. Maybe I’m finally moving past the morning sickness. Thank God, because I miss food — at least eating like a pig, anyway.
When I come out of the bathroom, Tristan is still asleep on the bed and I can see him in the light of the moon coming through the curtains. I stand there in the doorway, just looking, just watching him sleep. What have I ever done to deserve you? I ask myself, and it’s something I can’t answer. But I do know that I will spend the rest of my life making sure he knows how much I love him.
I stand there a couple more minutes before I return to bed, reversing the process I used to get out, hoping that he’ll stay asleep. If he wakes, he doesn’t move or indicate as much, and I curl back into my spot. I pick his arm up and wrap it around myself, and he pulls me into him, burying his face in my hair. I hear his deep inhale and he squeezes a little tighter. “I love you,” he breathes.
“Ditto,” I whisper, and his breathing changes when he smiles into my hair, but we don’t say another word to each other as we both fall back to sleep.
The smell of eggs and bacon wakes me up sometime later, and Tristan sits down on the side of the bed. “Breakfast in bed,” he says with a smile, and it warms my heart.
“After I um...” I scramble out of the bed and head for the bathroom. I shut the door behind me, and after a moment he knocks.
“You okay?”
I can hear the worry in his voice. “Yeah, I just had to pee.”
I can hear him laugh, and the laugh fades as he walks away from the door. I finish up and wash my hands. When I open the door he is standing there, holding a tray, and I smile. “Hi, beautiful.”
“Hi beautiful yourself,” I say back, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my lips as I crawl into bed. I prop the pillows against the padded headboard and I pull the sheets up to my lap. Once I’m settled in, he puts the tray down in front of me and pulls back the dome from the plate.
“I wasn’t sure if you were awake.”
“Bacon woke me up.” I laugh and grab for a piece.
“I can make more.”
I smile at him. “Let me eat this first, then let’s see.” I haven’t eaten many big meals the last few weeks and yesterday wiped me out. I’ve been eating — absolutely — but a lot of smaller meals.
He just sits there watching me eat. “What about you?” I ask him.
“I’m good. I nibbled a little while I was making it. You’re missing a couple pieces of bacon.” He gives me a cheesy grin and I laugh.
Before I know it, I’ve eaten everything on my plate and drunk both the orange juice and the glass of water he brought up. “Do you want more?” he asks, hopeful.
I shake my head. “Not right now. I’m full.”
“Okay,” he says, then he stands and takes the tray.
“I wouldn’t mind some more orange juice, though.”
“Okay, I’ll run this downstairs and be back in a few minutes.” He leans over and kisses me on the forehead and then heads down to the kitchen. I want to go with him, but based on the breakfast in bed and his willingness to wait on me, I’m guessing he isn’t going to let me out of bed and, surprisingly, I’m okay with that. I look at the clock for the first time and it’s nearly eleven in the morning. Well, I slept forever.
Surprisingly, I didn’t hear Tristan come back upstairs; I doze off and wake up again just after twelve, and I see him sitting in my favorite chair. His back is to me, but he looks like he is reading over something. I pad quietly behind him and wrap my arms around his shoulders. “Jeez, babe,” he says as he jumps. “You scared me.” He turns to look at me.
“I’m sorry.” I laugh a little and he smiles at me.
“How are you feeling?”
I do a quick assessment. Breakfast doesn’t seem to want to make an appearance again, and I actually feel a little rested, but I could easily go back to sleep. “Pretty good I think. Whatcha reading?” I ask him.
“A script.”
“Oh, any good?” I watch as he scrunches up his nose. I walk around and climb onto his lap. “Well, I guess we should work on that, shouldn’t we?” He points to the coffee table. Sitting on top of it is a huge stack of scripts. “Or not,” I say, leaning forward to grab the next one off of the pile. I look at the title and toss it onto the couch. He laughs.
“No good?”
I laugh. “I nearly fell asleep reading the title.”
He laughs. “Well okay then.”
We sit there for a couple of hours, going through the stack of scripts. The ones I like, he starts to read through a little bit. He settles on two of them. One he really likes and spends a good amount of time reading. “Good?” I ask.
“Really good. But I can’t do it.”
I scowl at him. “What? Why not?”
He hands me the script and I look at the filming dates.
May 15th, 2013 to June 23rd, 2013.
“What’s wrong with that?” I ask, though I know his answer and he knows I know it, too.
“I won’t miss it, Cams. Not for a movie, not for anything.”
I climb off of the couch, stand on my knees between his legs and look up at him. “Did you see where it’s filming?”
“No, once I looked at the dates, I stopped.”
I reach for the script off of the couch where I left it and I show it to him. “I think you should sign this contract, Tristan. If you love the script as much as I can tell you do, nothing should stand in your way. Not me or the baby. Besides, I’ll be there with you.” He looks down at the script and sees the filming location.
“But the house won’t be done.”
I shrug. “So what? We can rent a house, like we did in Montana, and it will be fine. I’m certain that if I go into labor, we will be able to reach you and you will be there for it.”
He takes my head in his hands and kisses me. “This is why I love you so much. What about doctors? We live here, it makes sense to have a doctor here.”
I shake my head. “We can travel to California for appointments. Tristan, we can work this out. Please don’t throw away a good script because you think it can’t be done, because it can — without doubt — be done. We will make it work, no matter what. And...” I pause. “While I was struggling with myself about this—” I place my hand on my stomach. “—I decided that I need to make some choices — beyond me, beyond us, and beyond this little one. I think it’s time I start running the company.”
“Cami, you have more money than anyone I know. Your working is not a requirement to having a child.”
“No, Tristan, it’s not. But despite my father’s awful flaws, he did one thing right. He built a business, and that business was handed to me. I’d like to hand it down to someone one day. But I also made a promise to myself that I would not be my father. That I would be there for my children, no matter what the cost.” I take a deep breath. It feels good to finally say it out loud.
“I didn’t know it was possible, but I think I just fell in love with you a little more.”
I climb back up onto his lap and kiss him. “Show me,” I breathe.
He stiffens and I can sense the hesitation. “Is it okay?” he breathes.
“Tristan, I’m pregnant, not made of glass.” I smile at him, and the next thing I know, he’s standing with me and we’re walking toward the bed.
“I’ve missed you so much.”
“Prove it,” I say as he lays me out on the bed.
He smiles wider. “With pleasure.”