To silence the echo of my ex-wife’s betrayal.
Cami’s an unexpected plot twist. A bonus epilogue that makes my sad story worth rereading.
And I’m fully aware that a summer tryst won’t heal me. Won’t undo what my ex shattered or suddenly restore my trust in love. But it might dull the sting. Maybe even trigger a seismic shift in my dormant heart. Convince me that not every ending leaves you scarred.
A few hours later, I’m crouched beside the playpen, scooping Stripe into the pet carrier.
Shadow’s already curled inside like she’s the star of this sitcom.
Both are still like little spuds with paws, all belly and zero coordination.
Today is their first vet appointment since being fostered: a check-up on weight, hydration, and proof that bottle-feeding’s doing its job. Judging by their growing bellies and louder meows, I’d say we’re on track.
I zip the carrier and glance at my watch. Cami should be ready by now, probably on her way over in another pair of cutoffs engineered to sabotage my focus.
Keys in hand and carrier tucked under one arm, I step outside, coastal air brushing warm against my skin.
Sunlight glints off my Rover’s windshield as I pop the lock and ease the back door open.
Shadow lets out a tiny mew as I buckle them in, like she knows we’re on a tight schedule. Stripe, on the other hand, stays quiet, and if he were older, I’d say he was plotting an escape.
I double-check both straps. Not too loose, not too snug.
Cami told me that I hover like a nervous dad. And she’s right, which should probably scare me. But it doesn’t. Not after all the years I spent pretending I didn’t want to be a father. It’s like slipping back into a version I wanted to be before I started rewriting myself to fit into someone else’s story.
The muted crunch of the beach path steers my attention back to now.
Cami’s walking across our shared path, hair twisted into one of those messy knots that somehow still looks intentional. Oversized sunglasses slide down her nose. And, yep, she’s in another pair of shorts that have no business looking that good.
She flashes a smile, too casual to be innocent. “Are they ready for their big day?”
I nod toward the carrier. “Stripe voiced a few opinions about it, but he’s settled.”
She peers through the mesh. “Hi, babies.” Her coo softens as if it’s got some kind of built-in purr.
Shadow meows in response; she knows she’s being admired.
“Front seat’s all yours,” I say, holding the door open.
Cami slides in, and that citrusy scent of hers follows: fresh, sharp, and just as distracting as the bare skin she keeps showing off.
God help me.
“You nervous?” she asks as I back out of the driveway.
“About what?”Being near you? Always.
“Judgment Day.” She shrugs. “Two clueless humans trying to raise bottle babies.”
“Those noisemakers are alive, fat, and loud. Not bad for a couple of first-timers.”
She laughs, fingers drumming on her thigh. “We’re practically professionals now. Today, their first check-up. Tomorrow, we’ll be getting invited to playdates.”
“As long as there’s wine. And I don’t have to talk to the other cat parents.”
I catch her expression shift: eyes bright, mouth tugged into something between fond and amused. I mirror it, hoping my breath-stealing passenger can’t hear how loud my thoughts get whenever she’s near.
The town slides by in a blur of shops, cafés, and restaurants, a radio hits playlist murmuring low as we each fall quiet, lost in separate thoughts.
