The Story of Me (Carnage #2)(77)
“You not gonna shower first?” I ask.
He winks at me. “Na, I smell of sex and you. Why would I wanna wash that away?” He walks away as I melt all over his bed.
Our relationship has always been sexual. Sean and I were always good together, compatible; we just knew each other so well, but with Cam, it’s always been different. With Sean, if we were in the same room, we had to touch, hold hands, sit shoulder to shoulder; however, we could work it, we would always be touching. With Cam, it’s always been more sexual. He could never pass me without biting or tweaking my nipple, putting his hand up my skirt or groping my arse, and I sit and wonder, is it just me he’s like that with, or is it like that with every woman who he’s f*cking? Is it like that with his pregnant girlfriend too?
I throw myself back on his bed and let my legs dangle over the side. I’ve never felt like this in a relationship before. With Sean I was always confident of his love, even when we got back together and the truth came out about our separation. When he was on the road with the band, wherever he was touring, I always knew he loved me. I always trusted him completely, and when I was with Cam the first time around, I always felt I had the power. Perhaps it was because I’d convinced myself that I didn’t love him and it didn’t matter to me what he felt. Although, I know that if I’d caught him cheating, it would’ve been a massive blow to my self-esteem after what I thought Sean had done. Now though, everything is different. I feel so unsure. I’m overthinking every little comment he makes and I know I must sound like a needy, whiney little bitch, and I hate myself for it. My stomach lets out a loud growl just as Cam calls my name up the stairs. I actually don’t feel like food now. I feel like staying up here and sulking, but I know I need to eat. I get up with a sigh and stomp my way downstairs. Why is it I can find this sulky part of the old me easily enough, but the confident, spitting, snarling, all-guns-blazing part of me refuses to make an appearance?
*
Cam looks up at me from where he’s sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, and as much as I hate it, the sight of him brings a small smile to my lips. We used to sit and eat like this at his old flat above the wine bar. Fuck, I thought my life was complicated then. What the f*ck did I know?
I sit cross-legged on the floor opposite him as he pours me a glass of wine.
“Try the wine. It’s from New Zealand.” I smile a little again. We used to do this too. He was always trying out new wines for the restaurant he was about to open. Now look at him, look at us; we’ve both come so far and yet, here we are, full circle, together, sitting on the floor, eating takeaway off the coffee table and trying a new wine. I take a sip.
“Mmm, it’s good. Is it a Sav Blanc?” He raises his eyebrows in surprise and tilts his head slightly,
“Well done, Kitten. It is.” His praise warms my belly.
“Marlborough region?” I ask.
“You looked at the label.” I open my mouth to protest, but stop as my head spins slightly from the alcohol and complete lack of food in my stomach, so I serve myself up Singapore noodles, chicken curry and chips. My plate is piled high and I’m just contemplating whether my eyes are bigger than my belly, when Cam says, “You’ll never eat all that, Kitten.” I raise my eyebrows, deep down from somewhere, G has appeared.
“You wanna bet, Tiger?” He arches one eyebrow at me.
“I’ll bet you anal that you don’t finish that.” I spit a half chewed, chunky Chinese chip back onto my plate, but quickly compose myself,
“You’re on.”
I eat slowly but surely. There is no way I’m losing this bet, and even if I do, there is no f*cking way he is putting that monster of a cock inside my arse, no way.
I just finish the very last noodle on my plate when his phone vibrates and lights up on the coffee table beside him. He picks it up and looks at the screen. He looks up at the ceiling for a few seconds then at me.
“I need to take this. I’m sorry.”
“Go for it,” I say with a shrug. He gets up and I expect him to leave the room, but instead, he sits up on the edge of the sofa.
“Tamara,” he says and my heart sinks. I start putting lids on the takeaway containers, but I’m listening to what Cam is saying too. Although at the moment, he just seems to be listening. “You need to calm the f*ck down, Tam. Getting yourself in this state isn’t doing you or the baby any good.” I stop what I’m doing and take a few deep breaths. I really don’t want to vomit up what I’ve just eaten so I keep still until the moment passes. Cam’s hand reaches out and grabs mine. I turn and look at him while he pulls me to sit down on the sofa next to him.
“Stay here,” he says. “Don’t go anywhere.” He moves the phone away from his ear and puts it on loud speaker, placing it down on the coffee table. Very quietly, he says to me, “I want you to listen to this conversation, so you better understand what I tell you later on.” I nod at him
“Who are you talking to?” A well-spoken, whiney, female voice says from the phone. “Cameron, have you got someone there with you? It’s her isn’t it, that f*cking McCarthy whore? Don’t lie to me, Cam. It’s been all over the news today. It’s been on all the gossip shows.”
Cam lets out a long sigh. “Tam, it’s none of your business who I’m with. We’re not together, remember.”