Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Chapter Twenty-One
Cami could see that Rex was as confused as she’d first been. And he was asking the same questions she’d asked, even if they were coming to him a bit faster. What he wasn’t doing was looking at her like she’d lost every last one of her marbles.
And God, she appreciated that. Especially in her exhausted state, where she’d braced to have him respond with derision and reiterate that he had absolutely nothing to say to her.
“Can I see the photo?” he asked. “On your phone?”
She removed it from her sweatshirt pocket, opened the text, and handed it to him. He took the phone and frowned down at the photo for a minute, enlarging it a few times as he obviously zoomed in on this or that. As she watched him, her breath came easier.
She hadn’t really meant to blurt out the details about the photo and the video. She’d intended on first investigating whether he might be able to hack the source of the video. Maybe through a VPN—whatever that was, although she’d heard it advertised on commercials about cyber stuff—or some other means that she had no idea about. She was so far out of her depth that she didn’t even know the lingo to describe how far out of her depth she was.
But she’d been willing to pay him like she’d said. She hadn’t expected the concern in his expression, even if he’d attempted to stifle it. And it had undone her. Maybe because it was him, maybe just because she’d spent the night wrestling with this daunting situation and reliving those months after her baby was born, the weeks bleeding into one another as she grieved for the part of her soul she’d given to another woman to mother.
She’d felt so alone, then and now. And today, suddenly, she . . . wasn’t, at least for a small window of time, and the relief she felt was instantaneous and overwhelming. And so she’d blurted it all out before she could stop herself, without taking the time to consider whether that was wise or rational or even useful.
He might have seen it as cosmic justice to tell her he could help her, but wouldn’t, similar to what she’d done to him.
He handed her phone back and then was quiet again, his eyes cast to the side, finger picking mindlessly on the corner of the table where the laminate was peeling up. “Okay,” he said after a minute, like he’d taken that time to filter through and accept all she said. “But wait, save your son? I mean, you did do that, didn’t you? What’s more selfless than adoption? What saves a baby more so than giving them to a family that will provide a secure, loving life?”
“It felt like it at the time. It was my intention. To give him a good life with parents who could raise him in the manner he deserved. But maybe someone out there doesn’t see it that way.”
He frowned. “What makes you believe this is your child, other than the similar age?”
“He looks like me. But also, why send me a picture of a random child that’s the same age as my son? How is that a do-over?”
“But you’re not certain he’s yours. The person who called didn’t confirm that?”
“No.”
“All right.” He cast his eyes aside and worried his bottom lip for a moment. “But for now, we’ll assume it is your son, until we know different.”
We. The word undid her even a little bit more, and she couldn’t help the tears that sprang to her eyes. “I’m sorry to lay this on you. You probably think I’m the worst person in the world. Maybe I am. I just . . . I don’t know who else might be able to help.” A tear fell from her eye and rolled down her cheek and, embarrassed, she swiped at it and tried to will herself to stop this show of emotion. “Oh, Jesus. These aren’t fake tears, I swear. I’m not trying to manipulate you. I . . . I know you hate me, and you have reason to. You do. I understand. I didn’t stand up for you when you needed me to. I was just so . . . so lost and out of my head. I didn’t know up from down. And now . . . what is this? I mean, what the hell? I don’t know what I’m expected—”
“Cami. I don’t hate you. I never did. There’s no real sense in dredging up the past as far as we’re concerned. It’s over and, in light of this”—he waved his hand toward her phone—“I’ll help if I can because whoever this is and whatever they’re doing is fucked up. If I look into it and find I can’t help clarify, then I’ll let you know.”