Making It Last - A Novella (Camelot Series) Read Online Free Page A

night, that he’d cursed the boy before he was even born. Talked Amber into having a third baby when she wasn’t sure, promised her a daughter, only to give her a son whose fears went as deep as Tony’s own. Whose heart beat in Tony’s body.
    They’d done this so many times, the two of them. This synchronized breathing. This backing off from the sharpest edge of fear.
    “Your mom’s coming home,” he said. “It’s only a few days.”
    Jake lifted his tear-streaked face, fixing Tony with those big brown eyes, so dark. So exactly like his mother’s. Amber’s eyes, Amber’s cheeks. The same flawless skin that tanned with a few hours’ exposure to sunlight. The same straight, dark hair.
    But everything inside this kid was Tony, through and through. The milk intolerance. The fear of the dark, the screwed-up sleep patterns.
    The irrational terror that he would lose everything he cared about.
    He forgets to breathe
, Amber had said once, a few weeks after they had him home from the hospital.
Just like you, Tony
.
    “What d-did I
d-do
?” Jake asked.
    The question rose and broke, and the fear in his son’s eyes filled Tony with more pain than he could deal with.
    He didn’t know what he’d done or not done. He had no fucking idea.
    All he knew was they’d pulled away from the curb and left Amber there, jeans and tall boots and a bright magenta splash of T-shirt, and even before the van turned onto the road he hadn’t been able to recognize her as his wife.
    She’d looked like she was lost, and even though it didn’t make any sense, he knew it wasbecause he’d lost her.
    He should have stayed with her, like Jamila suggested. But he had work. Five days off was already pushing it.
    He couldn’t stay, so he’d compromised and made it so
Amber
could stay.
    It felt wrong, though. It felt like shit.
    “You didn’t do anything, buddy. It’s not your fault. It’s not even anything bad. Your mom needs a break, that’s all. She works really hard, you know?”
    Jake braced his palm against Tony’s chest, drawing back. “She says
yuh-you
work hard.”
    “That’s because I work outside the house, building stuff. But your mom works at home, with you guys, and she doesn’t get half as many breaks as me.”
    “Weren’t we good?”
    “Of course you were good,” Tony said, right as Ant piped up from the aisle seat, “It’s because you ate the chocolate bar, doofus.”
    Jacob’s face went blank, then broke. He dropped his head and started to cry all over again. “I didn’t
mean
to eat the chocolate, Dad! I was trying to be good. I was really
trying
.”
    “I know, Jake. You’re a good boy. Your mom loves you. She isn’t staying in Jamaica because you did anything wrong.”
    Over Jake’s head, Tony shot Ant a look that said,
Pipe down, or you’re in a world of hurt
.
    Ant smiled evilly and turned his attention back to the game on his DS.
    He wasn’t supposed to have the DS today.
    Bigger fish to fry.
    Tony lifted his free hand to brace his small son’s back between his palms. Framing him, pressing slightly, trying to tell him with the pressure that the world wasn’t coming apart, even if it felt like it must be.
    He’d realized in the van—Jake had never been apart from his mother overnight.
    Six years old.
    Which meant that not only was this really super
extra
hard for Jake, but also, Amber hadn’t spent a single night apart from the kids in six years.
    He’d never thought of it before. She’d never said.
    They used to get away sometimes. Leave Clark with his mom or hers, or with one of hissisters, and drive up to Columbus to stay in some swanky hotel and split a bottle of wine. Go dancing, if she made him. Have noisy, tipsy sex with the lights on, all their clothes off, on top of the goddamn sheets for a change, and not give a damn who heard them.
    One year they’d gone to Oktoberfest at the fairgrounds, and for some reason he couldn’t remember, Amber had been waitressing at one of the booths