What He Doesn't Know(32)

But I wasn't, and I didn't.

It was February twenty-second.

Eight years ago today, Cameron and I were married in a small church in  Pittsburgh - the same one my parents had been married at decades before.  Every year on this day since then, Cameron had woken me up with one of  two things: cinnamon pancakes - my favorite breakfast - or his face  between my thighs - his favorite breakfast, as he'd always playfully  reminded me.

An anchor dropped in my stomach as it dawned on me.

He forgot.

It had to be the only explanation. After all, he wouldn't have run into  the office on our wedding anniversary. He would have called someone else  who could handle it - there were plenty of people there who could. And  he wouldn't have just suddenly, out of nowhere, broken a tradition he  started with such excitement and love only eight years ago. Would he?

I paused.

Maybe, he's doing this on purpose. He'd started waking me with breakfast  as a surprise, as a treat for me. Maybe he realized that I'd gotten  used to it, that I expected it, and he wanted to keep me on my toes.                       
       
           


///
       

I smiled, leaning against the cabinet as I realized it was exactly what  he would do. He'd find a new way to celebrate our anniversary, a new way  to make me smile and feel special - it was exactly like him to do that.  Cameron was probably out shopping for something or putting together  some elaborate surprise plan for when he got home. I shook my head,  chewing my thumbnail with a stupid grin plastered on my face.

And maybe I was being a bit naïve, maybe I was making excuses, but in my  heart, I truly believed the best. It just didn't make sense, and I knew  deep down it just wasn't possible.

Cameron would never forget.

Once the thought was pushed from my mind, I cranked the music louder,  turning the coffee pot back on to reheat as I flipped over Cameron's  note to make a plan for the day. I'd already spent Saturday cleaning the  house in anticipation of us spending a day inside it, so I decided I  would focus my energy on a new, elaborate recipe for dinner. Cameron  would come home to the home-cooked meal of a lifetime, I'd give him his  gift and he'd give me mine, and then we'd pop open the champagne I'd  stuck in the refrigerator to chill over night and make love until the  sun came up.

I giggled at the perfectness of it all, skipping up the stairs to get dressed.





Reese called when I was in the middle of grocery shopping a couple hours  later, and we laughed at the drama that blew up during Wednesday's  Happy Hour the night after game night. It'd been nice, being friends  with Reese, and a lot less tension-filled since the night before Mom's  fundraiser. After he'd opened up to me about his family, it felt like we  somehow unlocked a door to our past selves. Talking was easier,  conversations were lighter - we were just a boy and a girl who lived  next door to each other.

I'd been helping Reese with the spring concert, and he'd been pulling me  out on the nights Cameron worked late to hang out with some of our  colleagues. I'd worked there for eight years and never made as many  friends as I had in just one week. It was nice, actually, to have the  teachers greeting me as we passed by each other in the hall. I'd always  been viewed as headmaster Henderson's pet before, but they were starting  to get to know the real me, now.

Maybe, in a way, I was, too.

"So, I'm not sure I said it this week, but I had a lot of fun at game  night," Reese said as I thanked the butcher for two beautiful racks of  lamb.

I was planning a decadent cherry glaze to finish them with, excitement  flooding through me at the thought of Cameron coming home to one of his  favorites.

"We should do it again sometime."

"We should. I'm sorry again about Cameron, he apologized the next day and told me he had just been tired."

"Hey, we talked about this. Remember? It's all good. Seriously."

I smiled, making my way to the produce department. "Okay. But anyway,  I'm glad you had fun, and that you got to spend a little time with  Cameron."

"Me, too. Glad there wasn't a Penguins game," Reese said. "It was nice  to get to know him a little more. He's kind of quiet, but he's smart.  And very in tune with you."

I smiled, a flash of memory from Cameron fingering me in our driveway  hitting me out of nowhere. I was already wet again thinking about round  two tonight, and I blushed as I passed a mother and her kids in the  baking aisle.

"He really is. And, to be fair, everyone is quiet in comparison to you."

"You calling me a loud mouth?"

"Just saying that a room is never void of conversation when you're in it."

I chuckled as Reese feigned offense with a dramatic gasp.

"I've got to keep you away from Sierra. You're getting so sassy."

"Speaking of Miss Maggert, I think she has the hots for you."

Reese scoffed. "Yeah. Me and every other teacher with a penis."

"You have a penis?"

There was a pause.

"Wow. You really are getting sassy. That's it, no more ciders at happy hour. Water only."

I laughed. "I'm in a good mood today, okay? Leave me alone. Also, you should ask her out."

"No offense, Charlie, but if you think Sierra is in any way my type, then you have no idea who I am at all."

I pulled a fresh bag of cherries from the produce section, inspecting  them carefully before setting them in my basket. "Okay, I'll bite.  What's your type then?"

"I don't have one. But if I did, it would not be someone whose entire life centers around a fat dog named Buster."

I snorted.

"Got to go, I'm checking out now and then I'll be elbow deep in this recipe until dinner."                       
       
           


///
       

"Alright alright, I guess I'll go pester someone else. And hey, happy  anniversary. I hope it's a great night." His voice was warm, and I  smiled, thankful to have my friend back - a friend I didn't even realize  I'd missed so much.

"Thanks, Reese. It will be."





Our entire house smelled like cherries by the time I finished making dinner.

The glaze was set on low on the stovetop, the lamb being kept warm in  the oven until Cameron walked through the door. I'd fixed up deliciously  seasoned asparagus and garlic mashed potatoes for the sides, and pulled  out an old bottle of red wine we received as a gift on the night of our  wedding. We'd been saving it for something special, and although eight  years wasn't a milestone anniversary per se, it felt like the right  night to open it.

Even though they killed my feet, I'd strapped on my sexiest pair of red  high heels, the ones that matched the lingerie I wore beneath my simple  black dress and apron. My hair was down and curled, lips painted a soft  pink, and I couldn't stop myself from bouncing as I waited at the  kitchen island for Cameron.

His gift sat wrapped in simple silver wrapping paper in the middle of  our small dining table, the one not reserved for guests. It was nestled  right beside the two candles I'd lit to set the mood. Inside, there were  tickets for a meet and greet with the entire Penguins team before the  game with seats in a reserved suite, with food and drinks included for  up to twenty people.

At a little after five, I decided to make a playlist while I waited.

At five-twenty-two, I stirred the glaze and checked that the lamb was still warm.

When six rolled around, I sent him the first text of the day, asking what his ETA was with a smiley face.

He didn't answer, not even when the clock hit seven. The dinner I'd  worked so hard on was losing more life with every passing minute.

At seven-thirty, I decided that bottle of wine needed to be opened. I  poured a glass that would have made my mother cluck her tongue at me.

And finally, at two minutes until eight, I heard the key wiggling into our front door lock.

I took another sip of my wine as Cameron dropped his keys in the bowl by  the door. I listened as he sighed, likely taking off his jacket and  hanging it on the rack. He walked right past the kitchen at first, well  on his way upstairs, but when he saw me in his peripheral, he paused.

His eyes were tired as they took me in. I was sitting at the table set  for two, the candles burned to their ends, music still softly playing  from the speakers in the kitchen. He didn't have a tie on, just a polo  and dress slacks - a casual Sunday work attire. And he wasn't holding  flowers, or a gift, or even a smile as he moved slowly into the room.

"Something smells delicious."

"Lamb," I answered, taking another sip of wine before setting my glass  down carefully. I trailed my fingertip over the wet rim. "And a cherry  glaze."

"That sounds amazing," he said, tentatively, with his brows bending  together in a way that told me he had bad news. "I actually already ate …   we ended up ordering in at the office since we had been there all day.  But hey, give me an hour or so and I'm sure I can make room for more."