The Real(96)

“We have dinner plans at eight,” I reminded him as he pulled away from kissing me goodbye.

“Nag, nag. Jeesh,” Cameron said with the wave of his hand. “I’ll be back in time.”

“Did you just say ‘nag, nag’ to me?” I shrieked.

Bree let out a belly laugh as she hugged me, and I glared at Cameron over her shoulder.

“I’ll be here beautiful. It’s not like I want to miss a date with that rounding ass of yours. From behind baby, it’s perfection.”

He kissed his fingers and let them go as if he were giving the best of Italian food compliments before he hauled ass out the door.

I stood stunned mouth gaping, but Bree read him easily. “Oh, he’s so trying to push your buttons. Did you guys have hot angry preggo sex recently?”

“Did he just call me a fat ass?!”

“Noooo, he said your ass was getting bigger. A sure-fire way to land himself in a good fight.”

“He better—”

“Forgot my keys,” he called from the hallway, his eyes full of mischief as he gave me a once over, licked his lips and walked back out the door. I narrowed my eyes. “It would seem so.”

“Yep,” she said with a knowing smile. “Yeah, he’s feeling the pregger sex, and the angry pregger sex. You will have no issue being worked over by that man. That’s a good sign.”

I was already in front of a mirror doing my best to look at my ass.

“God, what a punk. I’m going to kick his butt for saying that!” I winced. “I meant that figuratively.”

“I know that, babe,” she said looking on at me. “And so would he if he heard you.”

“I still get worried I go too far sometimes,” I said carefully. “I swear every time I hit him in jest, I realize what I did, and I end up crying in a closet. He busted me the other day and we had an argument about it.”

“Because those aren’t your mistakes to pay for,” Bree pointed out.

“That’s what he said.”

“You’re just being yourself. Cameron’s man enough to realize that. It’s not your fault. Don’t beat yourself up for shit like that.”

“I’m trying not to,” I said with a sigh. “He went to therapy when his marriage fell apart, but I feel like I’m out of my element.”

“Because he got the help he needed and if he says he’s okay you have to trust that. There’s nothing you can do but listen, and only if he wants to talk.”

“He doesn’t. I don’t think he ever will. I told him I told you about Kat before he had a chance to stop me. It took him almost a day to talk to me after that. I don’t think it will ever be something he’ll be open about. He says he did his time in therapy and he’s not going back. Not when it’s about Kat. All I can do is read up and it’s horrifying.”

Bree nodded. “I stitched up a seventy-four-year-old man the other night whose wife hit him with a lamp. He begged me not to turn her in because she’d taken his social security check before he was admitted.”

“Jesus,” I whispered. “Did you report it?”

“The doctor did. It was the second time he’s seen him. But I would have. This stuff happens every day.”

“How do you do that? How do you handle that, Bree?”

“Because that man needed someone to be there to stitch him up and to listen to him. It’s not about me, it’s about them.”

“You’re my hero,” I said with a wobbling chin. “But you may have to talk me out of eye for an eye. I can’t forget that she hurt him. He had bruises while we were dating because he was attempting to reason with her. At first, he told me they were from roughhousing with Max on the basketball court, but confessed later it was because he was trying to finalize the divorce without getting anyone else involved. He was protecting her, and she just kept hitting him!”

“He should have reported it,” Bree said softly. “And he knows that, Abbie. He just didn’t want it known. Some people are just too proud. It’s his way. He worked through it the only way he felt he could while trying to keep his dignity.”

“I know, but look at the cost,” I said glancing out the window inwardly cringing about the signs I missed. “It makes me hate her in a violent way. My sweet man. How could she hit him?! How could she touch him like that?! I can’t believe I had the nerve to be sorry for my part in all of it when she didn’t even fucking deserve him! I swear to God I want to go all Scarface on her ass.”

Bree’s eyes widened. “Wow, mamma bear, not that you don’t have a right to be pissed, but your hormones are raging already. You wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

I showed her my teeth and winced. “Oh no!” I hung my head. “You think that’s why he ran away to play basketball?”

“You are a hot mess. Okay, yeah, we need to work some of this energy off and that big fat ass of yours.”

“You are going to hell,” I said as she tossed my Nikes at me.

“Female, mid-thirties, first baby, yeah your body isn’t going to bounce back.”

I crossed my arms indignant. “I got pregnant. I earned nine months of being fed chocolates while he rubs oil on my belly.”