Chapter 12 - Three People and One Honest Conversation
Camille did not immediately go to Seattle.
She did something harder.
She stayed until staying was a choice instead of habit.
André spent nine days in the hospital.
Camille visited, but not every day.
She helped coordinate rehabilitation because that was her profession, then handed most of his care to colleagues because she refused to become indispensable.
That distinction mattered.
On the fifth day, André’s mother arrived from Montreal.
On the sixth, his sister came from New York.
By the seventh, Camille realized he no longer needed her.
For years that would have frightened her.
Now it felt like freedom.
On day nine, André was discharged.
Camille drove him to his new apartment.
He moved slowly with crutches.
“You’re enjoying this,” he accused.
“What?”
“My reduced speed.”
“Deeply.”
“At least pretend to be compassionate.”
“I brought you groceries.”
“You bought kale.”
“You need nutrition.”
“I almost died.”
“You fractured three ribs. That does not medically entitle you to cake.”
André looked offended.
“You’re a monster.”
Camille smiled.
She put the groceries away.
Then she noticed the old black sketchbook on his counter.
The one containing the drawing of the imaginary Miami house.
André followed her gaze.
“Keep it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it belongs to you.”
He leaned on his crutches.
“That page was about us.”
“I know.”
“So take it.”
Camille thought.
Then tore out the page.
André stared.
She folded it carefully.
“Compromise.”
He smiled.
“Look at us developing healthy boundaries ten years late.”
“Twelve.”
“Worse.”
They laughed.
Then André became serious.
“When do you leave?”
Camille looked up.
“Who said I’m leaving?”
“Your face.”
“My face says nothing.”
“Your face booked a ticket.”
She smiled despite herself.
“Friday.”
“For Seattle.”
“Yes.”
André nodded.
“How long?”
“Four days.”
“Nervous?”
“Terrified.”
“Good.”
She frowned.
“Why good?”
“Because you’re going anyway.”
Friday afternoon, Camille stood at Miami International holding a carry-on bag and remembering every airport that had hurt her.
André leaving for New York.
André leaving for London.
The returned ring.
Ethan leaving after their first kiss.
Airports had always represented separation.
This time she was the one departing.
Her mother called before boarding.
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
Solange laughed.
“Perfect.”
“That is terrible maternal advice.”
“No.”
Her mother’s voice softened.
“You spent too many years believing certainty comes first.”
Camille stared at the gate.
“Sometimes you move first.”
The flight was six hours.
Ethan did not know she was coming.
That part had been Elise’s idea.
Camille resisted initially.
“What if he has plans?”
“He has a calendar.”
“What if he’s dating someone?”
“It’s been three weeks.”
“People move fast.”
“You met him at a wedding and kissed him three days later.”
“Exactly.”
Elise had laughed.
“Go.”
So Camille went.
At 9:18 p.m. Seattle time, Ethan was in a grocery store comparing two brands of pasta sauce.
He received a text from Camille.
What are you doing?
He smiled.
Making thrilling Friday decisions.
Such as?
Tomato basil vs roasted garlic.
Three dots.
Your life without me has deteriorated.
Ethan laughed in the aisle.
Clearly.
Then:
Where are you?
Seattle.
Ethan typed:
Obviously.
Camille replied:
No. I mean where exactly?
Ethan stared.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
“Camille?”
“Tomato basil.”
“What?”
“Buy tomato basil.”
“Why?”
“Because I hate roasted garlic sauce.”
Ethan stopped moving.
His heart began to pound.
“Where are you?”
“I asked first.”
He told her.
Camille laughed.
“Stay there.”
The call ended.
Ethan stood motionless beside canned tomatoes.
Seven minutes later, Camille appeared at the end of the aisle pulling a small suitcase.
Yellow coat.
Dark hair loose around her shoulders.
Completely out of place.
Completely real.
Ethan stared.
Camille smiled.
“You’re doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“Calculating.”
He crossed the aisle so quickly an elderly woman moved her cart out of his way.
Camille barely had time to release the suitcase before he wrapped his arms around her.
She laughed into his shoulder.
People stared.
Ethan did not care.
When he pulled back, he touched her face.
“You’re here.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“That was intentional.”
“What if I had plans?”
“I would have been devastated and pretended to be mature.”
He laughed.
Then kissed her.
Not like the hotel lobby in Miami.
Not careful.
Not uncertain.
When they separated, Camille whispered, “I made a choice.”
Ethan’s forehead rested against hers.
“I know.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You know I didn’t choose André.”
“Yes.”
“That’s not the same.”
Ethan waited.
Camille took his hand.
“I didn’t choose you instead of him.”
The words initially sounded wrong.
Then she continued.
“I chose the life where I stop waiting.”
Ethan understood.
“And I want to see if you belong in that life.”
His eyes filled.
“That’s significantly more romantic than it sounded at first.”
“I know.”
“You should work on delivery.”
“Shut up.”
He kissed her again.
Behind them, the elderly woman cleared her throat.
“Some of us need pasta sauce.”
Camille laughed so hard she nearly dropped Ethan’s hand.
That night, they ate takeout on his kitchen floor because Ethan had not finished assembling a new dining table.
Camille looked around his immaculate apartment.
“You really do have emergency batteries labeled by expiration date.”
Ethan froze.
She pointed toward an open cabinet.
He sighed.
“I can explain.”
“No.”
Camille smiled.
“Never explain that.”
For four days, they learned each other without weddings, beaches, ex-fiancés, or emergencies.
And what they discovered was both comforting and alarming.
They liked each other in ordinary life too.
The problem came Sunday evening.
Camille stood at Ethan’s window looking over Seattle.
“Long distance almost destroyed me once.”
Ethan sat behind her.
“I know.”
“I don’t want to recreate it.”
“Neither do I.”
She turned.
“So what are we doing?”
Ethan had spent three weeks refusing to calculate.
Now the hardest equation of all waited between them.
Seattle.
Miami.
Two careers.
Two families.
One relationship barely beginning.
May you like
And no answer that did not require somebody to risk something.
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