The Story of Me (Carnage #2)(114)
There was really no more I could do here now and a million and one things I should be doing at home.
Home, the house Cam and I had renovated, modernised and created together. We had moved in just two weeks ago and were still in desperate need of furniture, but for now, we had the basics, a fully functioning kitchen, with every modern appliance known to mankind, a television, something to play music on and a bed. Once this fundraiser was over, then we would shop and finish kitting the place out. I’d used a professional interior design team for the fixtures, fittings, carpets, curtains and blinds. I had also given them free rein with the guest bedrooms, but for the main living areas and the rest of what would go into our bedroom, I wanted us to choose together.
If all of that hadn’t been enough to contend with, Tamara had given birth to a baby boy, six weeks ago. He was early and a little underweight, but other than that, he was a perfectly healthy little boy, and without a shadow of a doubt, most definitely Cam’s child.
I had thought all along that I would go to pieces at that news, but I’ve actually been fine. Well, not fine, that’s a complete lie. It hurts like f*ck, but I’ve been so busy that I just haven’t had time to have a meltdown of Georgia proportions. On top of that, out of the eight eggs that were harvested from my one remaining ovary, six had gone on to develop into embryos after being introduced to Cam’s super sperm. The doctor had warned us that at Cam’s age, his swimmers probably wouldn’t be so great and we might possibly end up with just one embryo worth implanting. Cam had proceeded to call him a cheeky cunt, asked Doctor Shepherd if he knew who he was talking to and threatened to knock his lights out. Needless to say, he was more than a little smug when the fertility clinic had rung a couple of days later to say they did in fact have six viable embryos. Ash and Jimmie had insisted on being implanted with three each, despite knowing there was a risk of a multiple pregnancy. That had happened around nine days ago. Today was Friday, on Monday they were to take a pregnancy test and we would find out if either of them were pregnant.
All of this had given me something to focus on, other than the fact that Cam was now the father of a newborn; a beautiful dark-haired little boy he and Tamara had named Harry, after Cam’s dad. I knew without a shadow of a doubt from looking at the very first photo of Harry that he was Cam’s, but Cam wouldn’t believe anything until the paternity test came back. We had sat on the bottom stair of our new house and opened the letter together. We both cried and then I showed him the paint and wallpaper I’d bought to decorate Harry’s room with, just in case he had turned out to be Cam’s. I wanted Harry to be as big a part of Cam’s life as possible. I wanted him to know his dad and not spend his life being solely influenced and parented by Tamara’s evil, twisted mind.
Tamara was still living in a special care, mother and baby facility for addicts. She was assessed regularly and was being given small windows of time, where she could leave the facility on her own, but she wasn’t at any time left alone with the child. The idea was, that once she had proven she could head out into society and not be tempted by drugs, then she could be entrusted to look after her baby on her own.
Cam was terrified, and worried constantly she would get f*cked up and do something to hurt Harry, but she was tested and checked regularly.
I actually felt sorry for her. I really believed that she was trying and it must’ve been awful not to have your newborn by your side at all times like any other mother, but I suppose that was a right you should expect to forgo if you choose to take drugs while pregnant.
Cam had already appeared at the family court and joint custody had been agreed upon for Harry’s upbringing, but the court had decided that as Tamara was breast feeding, Cam wouldn’t take the baby out of the rehab facility. This was for Tamara’s benefit, nobody else’s. She had gone into absolute meltdown when she thought Harry would be leaving without her, but since she had decided after just two days that breastfeeding wasn’t for her, that decision had been reversed and Harry would be spending the weekend after the charity event with us and I am absolutely terrified. I’ve been around babies. I’ve looked after, fed and changed my new born nieces and nephews on many occasions, but for some reason, the thought of having Cam’s two-month-old son to stay with us for two nights was seriously scaring the crap out of me. Almost as much as pulling everything together for this bloody event.
The chair I’m sitting in spins around and I open my eyes to see Benny standing in front of me.
“What the f*ck, Ben?”
He gestures over his shoulder with his head. “Sort it out with them two, George. They called and told me to come fetch ya and take ya home.” I look around Benny’s bulk to my brothers.
“Fuck off home, George. We don’t want you here. You stink and we don’t love ya.”
I flip Marley my middle finger and let out a long sigh. “What time does Cam land?”
“Ten past seven.”
“What time is it now?” I ask.
“Three. By the time I get you home, it’ll be time to shoot to the airport.” I look around the other side of Benny to where Lennon is sitting behind his desk talking on his phone.
“Hang on a minute, Max.” He covers the mouthpiece. “Go home, Georgia. Have a nice long bath, a glass of bubbly, wash your hair, shave all the bits women shave and wait for Cam to arrive.” I smile at Len.