Chapter 40 Chapter 40
Thursday crept up on me. The week was slow, but not agonizing, like a thoughtful unwinding. It had a quietness to it that I was used to, and maybe that is the reason why I noticed each minute motion. Cam started humming again. I didn't flinch when the phone rang, I had recieved threats from Dominic's legal team but even they knew they were fighting a lost battle.
My chest no longer tightened on every door knock and today when I heard it, I knew it was Stanley.
I cleaned all afternoon even though the house was already clean enough. Cleaned the counters twice, moved around a vase that never did anything for me, put in fresh bathroom hand towels. It wasn't making an impression on him, I told myself. It was about control, routine, predictability. But deep down, I knew that I was lying deep inside.
Cam was at her afternoon art club, and I had one free hour. I hung around in front of the mirror, wondering if I was too sloppy or try-hard enough. In the end, I didn't do anything, just worked on a bit of curl-smoothing and lip-balm application. Easy and safe.
The knock had come in at five-thirty on the dot.
I pushed open the door, and there he was. He was dreased in a navy blue sweatshirt and slacks and he looked really tempting in it. How am I just seeing how hot he is? He had a paper bag with something inside that smelled wickedly of cinnamon.
"Peace offering," he said, holding out the bag.
"No one was at war," I said, smiling despite myself.
"I bring cinnamon rolls. Figured they're neutral ground."
I stepped aside, and he came in like he knew where he was going, which he probably did, but kept going in carefulness. As if he didn't want to assume that he was welcome. I approved of that.
"Cam's at her program. She'll return around six-thirty."
"Then we have time to eat one each before she takes the rest."
We ended up at the kitchen table again, same spots as the last. There was something unspoken about the routine of it, luke maybe it wasn't so much a repeat of that night, but more of a gentle stretching.
"So," he said between bites, "how was your week?"
"Less terrible than most. Yours?"
"Same. I had to present to the board. I kept coming close to falling asleep listening to myself."
"Funny."
"Beyond funny."
I talked to him, but not anything deep and certainly not about why he was there. Not of the drawing Cam had made or the purple heart she'd doodled. I had no plans of showing it to him. It was mine. Or maybe I wasn't ready for him to respond to it.
"You seem more comfortable," he said after a while.
I raised an eyebrow. "Is that you telling me that I no longer look ready to throw a chair at you?"
He grinned. "Something like that."
I took a sip of tea, looking out the window. "It's been some time since this place has felt quiet."
"Stillness js good."
There was silence for a beat. "It means you might actually be safe now?"
I gazed at him. " I might begin to believe it."
I stood up and poured us soda as he sat in silence. “Thank you.” He whispered as I pushed the glass across to him.
I opened my mouth to reply, but the front door opened and Cam's voice cut in.
"Mom?"
"Kitchen, baby."
She came in, backpack slung over one shoulder, paint on her fingertips with her grandmother right behind her. At the sight of Stanley, she perked up.
"You came."
He smiled, that soft, easy smile he only saved for her. "I told you I would, didn't I?"
She tore over and grabbed him. Like that. No hesitation. I could feel my breath stop. Cam has never accepted anyone like this.
"He brought you a cinnamon roll," I said, attempting to get my throat to work.
She smiled and sat beside him, already reaching into the bag. Mum said hello to Stanley and I and walked away to her room.
The three of us ate in a loose sort of rhythm. Cam asked him about his job, about whether he had a dog, about his favorite dinosaur. He answered each of her questions as if it mattered, never treating her to anything condescending, always asking.
Cam got up once to wash her oily hands and whispered aside to me, "He should come more often." I didn't reply back, but I looked over at Stanley. He was looking at her with that same look, a mix of wariness and protectiveness. As if he'd like to freeze the moment but not break it.
"You all right?" he asked, standing in the doorway as he showed me out. He was ready to leave and I was taking him to the door.
"Getting there."
“Can I ask you something?” he asked and just as I was about to answer and loud scream rent the air causing my heart to stop in my chest.
“Mother.”