Page 81 of When Love Gives You Lemons
I exhale. “Between me and Ricky?”
“It’s the only thing I can think of because ever since I got back, he won’t look at me or talk to me, and all I keep thinking in my head is my boyfriend spent the last two days in the most romantic place on earth with his ex-boyfriend, and I know I fully freaked yesterday and bowed out of today and that’s why Ricky ended up with you, but it’s also, like, the pressure of seeing your two families together and knowing that I don’t have the history with Ricky like you do. How can I compete, you know? So I . . .” He shrugs, stops himself just short of admitting a secret I know he’s carrying, but he doesn’t know I know.
Oh, the tangled webs of a cheater.
He looks at the sad, sad plate of delizia al limone. “It’s like you’re this lemon crème brûlée thing, and I have the depth of Jell-O.” I don’t bother correcting Cam’s food metaphor—thoughsidenote, reader, it’s a sponge, not a crème brûlée, but I digress. “I can’t compete. I know you’re in love with him.” Hearing Cam say it out loud hits me like a Mack truck, somewhere between coming out of the closet and the teacher catching you pass a “will you go out with me, yes or no?” note to your crush in the middle of class that they proceed to read out loud. “You had your chance, and I can’t lose him, Fielder. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” I so badly wish he looked like the cartoon villain version I have of him in my head, but instead he looks sad, desperate. As much as I want to hate Cam, I know how he feels.
IamCam.
“Ricky deserves to be happy, whatever that looks like for him,” I say softly.
For the first time since we broke up, I admit it’s okay if Ricky and I are happy evenifit means we don’t end up together.
—I don’t want that!—
Unlike Cam, I’ve realized Icanlive without Ricky, and that sends shock waves through my body; goose bumps spread down my arms.
I know I’ll regret what I’m about to tell Cam, but I do it anyway. “Ricky responds to honesty, so if it makes a difference, just be honest with him.” I’m not sure what else to say, so I let that linger in the air and hope it lands somewhere. “If it makes a difference,nothinghappened between us.”
As I walk away, I hear him exhale.
THURSDAY
RICKY DELUCA
“Seasick Hit Me Hard and Soft”
The lushness of Billie Eilish floods my ears as I sway in a hammock beneath an orange tree in the cool early morning breeze. I get lost in “BITTERSUITE,” escape in her lyrics, in the transformation and evolution of the music from song to song, allowing the vibes to transport me somewhere far removed from Amalfi, where I don’t have to think about Cam or Fielder or anything—
Tap-tap-tap.
Squinting one eye open, I see Cam standing over me, one hand now on my knee, smiling sheepishly. “I got you something for today.” He hands me a bottle of Dramamine. “I know you get seasick. I figured you’d forget it, and I didn’t want you to be green and hanging overboard all day today. I figured you’d want to be good for Sienna.”
“That’s really sweet. Thank you.” I swing my legs over the side of the hammock.
He holds out his hands for me to use to steady myself as I get out.
“This makes me dread the yacht a little bit less. I’m not a boat person.”
“Can we talk?” he asks, and suddenly he’s breathing heavily and not looking directly at me. “I don’t know how to say this, and if I look directly at you I’ll never be able to say it, but I can’t lie to you.”
I feel the anger building. I already know what he’s about to say, but I wonder if he’ll have the nerve to actually say it out loud. Cam has the tendency to skirt around admitting when he’s done something wrong. He’s an “I’m sorry but” kind of guy, and I’ve always attributed it to his parents who don’t care about him, but if he doesn’t own up without a “but,” there’s no moving forward.
“I met up with someone yesterday. And kind of the day before. But nothing happened the day before. But something did happen yesterday.”
I shove my hands with the Dramamine bottle in my pockets so he can’t see them shake. “What happened?”
“We hooked up.”
“Why?”
“Why?” he repeats.
“Why did you do it?”
Tears form in the corners of his eyes. “I don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough!” I start to yell, but I don’t want anyone to hear.
