Cameron
Charlie thought I cheated on her.
She wasn’t the only one. I wasn’t naïve enough to think word hadn’t spread around the office, and perhaps around the town — seeing as how Reid’s Energy Solutions was so involved in the community. I imagined even Charlie’s father knew, though he’d never confront me. Maxwell Reid knew more than he should about everyone who worked for him, but he was a man of respect and privacy.
Everyone thought they know the real story, and I hadn’t even tried to correct them. I hadn’t even tried to explain the truth to Charlie, because in my mind, none of it mattered.
I had still hurt her, no matter what the circumstances actually were. That was what mattered, and that was what I’d always told myself.
But Patrick had a different theory.
He wanted me to tell Charlie the truth — all of it — every single detail of what happened between me and Natalia. It was uncomfortable enough for me to even talk to him about her, let alone to Charlie. Just the thought of it made me want to jump in front of a bus.
“She deserves to know the truth,” Patrick had said at our session that Friday. It was the day after Charlie left for the conference. The day after she left to spend an entire weekend with him. “Let her be the one to decide if the truth makes a difference in how she feels or not.”
In a way, I understood what he meant. Perhaps Charlie would see it differently, and maybe she would actually forgive me — but I would never forgive me. That was the truth of it. No matter how anyone else saw it or what they believed, I had still hurt my wife. I’d betrayed her trust. I’d broken my vows.
There was no excuse for that. No valid one, anyway.
Still, I replayed the words I’d say to Charlie as I put the finishing touches on my project for the weekend. I hoped it would show her my love, what my hands had built, and that my words would bring clarity to a time we never discussed.
I built her an aviary.
Charlie had let Jane go free, but I knew in her heart that it killed her. I knew she missed Jane and Edward both, and that our house had felt a bit empty since they’d gone.
Charlie was a woman of simple pleasures — she loved her books, her garden, her birds, and, for reasons unknown, me. I couldn’t bring Jane or Edward back, but I could give her new birds to love, and a new place to find peace in our home.
I’d thought of just getting her two Budgies again, but I knew I could never replace Jane and Edward.
So, instead, I’d built a large aviary downstairs in our sun room.
It took up half the room now, the other half housing a bright couch, matching chair, and glass table Charlie had picked out when we first bought the house. I’d started building the aviary the second Charlie left on Thursday, forgoing work on both Thursday and Friday to spend the time I needed to complete it before she got home. Perks of not taking vacation time in years was that I had plenty to spare, and thankfully, my boss hadn’t questioned my frequent use of it recently.
Maybe he knew Charlie was cheating on me, too.
Regardless, I’d spent the entire weekend bringing my vision for the aviary to life, and I couldn’t wait for Charlie to see it. It was just as grand as I’d imagined, spanning from floor to ceiling, the welding wire stretching over the rustic metal framing I’d selected to give it a modern feel.
There was a small hammock inside, one Charlie could lie or sit in as her birds flew around her, and the sun shone through the glass ceiling of that room in such a way that I knew would bring a smile to Charlie’s face every morning. I’d filled the aviary with plush greenery and branches for the birds, as well as several nest boxes, and the last and final touch had been to get her very first birds.
Two Bengalese finches.
They twittered around me as I set up the last perch inside the aviary, and when it was complete, I sat in the hammock, watching them flit around from branch to branch in their new home.
I read when researching the aviary that keeping a single pet finch happy and healthy was nearly impossible. They thrived in pairs or groups, always needing the love and company of another to keep them satisfied.
I could relate.
The thought of losing Charlie was one I never liked to dwell on, but it was impossible to avoid that weekend. I knew she was with Reese, on a beach, in another state, far, far away from me. I could only hope that our weekend together was still fresh in her mind, that she believed the words I’d said to her, that she felt my love the way I’d always felt hers.
But I also knew there was a part of her that would never trust me again, part of her that had forgiven me, but would never forget what I did.
And so, with our new birds chirping in the background, I focused again on what I had to tell Charlie when she got home.
I didn’t want to relive that time in my life, and I definitely never wanted to discuss that day, but I had no choice. Patrick was right. Charlie deserved the truth, and more than that, she deserved to know what I had been thinking, what I’d been feeling.
Charlie thought I cheated on her, but I didn’t.
Natalia Aleppo had been a partner of mine for years. We worked our first project together when I was in my second year at Reid’s Energy Solutions, and from the very first moment I met her, I liked her.
But not in any way a married man wasn’t allowed to like a woman.
I thought she was intelligent, and well-spoken. I liked that I could depend on her to pull her side of a project, that she could speak to a crowded conference room of people and articulate our ideas while I stood silent in the corner with the numbers and figures. She was the face of our team, I was the machine in the back. I liked it that way.
Natalia was always professional with me, always nothing but sweet and friendly. She and Charlie met many times, and she’d always treated Charlie with respect, too.
But after we lost the boys, when depression took me under, something in Natalia changed.
I liked to think of her as a predator, and me her prey, one she watched carefully from a distance until the exact right time to pounce. But I couldn’t blame her for everything, not when I was equally as guilty. I may not have ever slept with her, but I had leaned on her — I had let her in when I should have been talking to Charlie, and to this day, I didn’t know why.
She was just there, that’s what I had told Patrick, anyway. When we were working long nights at the office, when I was trying to give Charlie space to heal while I dealt with the loss of our children on my own, Natalia was right there. She was asking questions, bringing me coffee, rubbing my shoulders, telling me it was all going to be okay.
And I should have told her to stop.
I should have told her no well before I did, should have seen the warning signs, should have admitted to myself that the way she looked at me had changed. But I didn’t. Not until that very night when she let herself inside my office after hours and closed the door behind her.
I could still close my eyes and see the smile on her red lips as the door latched closed, hear the click of her heels on my floor as she crossed to my desk, feel the pressure of her fingers on my shoulders as she climbed into my lap. She didn’t give me a chance to stop her, to argue, to even realize what was happening until her legs were spread over me, her skirt bunching at her hips, panties pressing to the zipper of my pants.
“I’m looking for trouble,” she’d whispered, grinding her hips against mine.
But as she’d leaned in to kiss me, I’d stopped her, gripping her wrists hard and peeling her off me.
“I’m not.”
She’d pouted, tilting her head to the side. “She doesn’t have to know. Just… let me make you feel good, Cameron. You deserve to feel good.”
Charlie was all I’d seen in that moment, she was all I cared about, and I didn’t for one split second give in to Natalia, not even when the carnal urges inside me screamed for me to let go.
I told her to get off me.
I told her to leave.
But none of that mattered, because it was too late.
Charlie walked in. She saw Natalia in my lap. She saw the skirt around her hips, smelled Natalia’s perfume on my shirt. I’d chased her down, begged her to listen to me, to hear me out, but once we’d gotten home, I knew in my heart there was nothing I could say.
It didn’t matter if I hadn’t slept with her, everything Charlie had seen had still been true.
Another woman had sat in my lap, with her bare thighs against me, with her arms around my neck, and I hadn’t pushed her off. I hadn’t stood and knocked her to the ground. I hadn’t told her no, not fast enough, anyway. Not with enough conviction.
And I’d let that woman in.
I’d talked to her about my fears, about my pain, about the very loss my wife was dealing with on her own. I’d stayed late at work because I enjoyed being in Natalia’s company, and I’d told her things I’d never once told Charlie. The more I told her, the more I opened up to her, the more I liked her. And even if I hadn’t acted on it, I couldn’t deny that I hadn’t felt the energy change around us. I felt the pull, I felt the want, I felt the desire.
If we never acted on it, it was innocent, right? That’s what I had told myself, it was what I’d convinced myself was true.
And that was why I couldn’t tell Charlie I hadn’t cheated on her. Because in the only way that mattered to me, I had. There had been many women who’d shared my bed before I met Charlie, but she’d been the only one I let inside my heart. For me, that was what real intimacy was. It was talking late into the night, sharing scars. Until Natalia, Charlie was the only one I’d ever done that with.
I may not have been guilty of the crime she imagined, but I was still guilty, nonetheless. And I’d never been a man to beg for a forgiveness I didn’t deserve.
Still, I agreed with Patrick that Charlie deserved to know the truth — if for no other reason than that I’d always been honest with her. I didn’t expect her to forgive me, or for it to change anything between us. I didn’t expect it to be enough to make her stay.
I just expected more of myself, and I would tell her the truth, no matter how hard it would be.
One of the finches jumped to a new branch, the other following quickly before they both went up in flight again, shaking me from my thoughts. I watched them fly high and then low, and I smiled.
Charlie would love them.
I remembered her anger when she set Jane free, when she accused me of trying to buy a bird to mask the pain she’d felt from Jeremiah losing his house at school, but that wasn’t the truth at all. Me building her a library or helping her in the garden or buying her new birds wasn’t me trying to buy her love.
It was just me showing mine.
The one thing my piece of shit father had taught me was that actions spoke louder than words.
He told my mother he loved her, but he beat her within an inch of her life too many times to count. And then, one night, he just didn’t stop.
Words meant nothing to me.
I loved Charlie, and I could say it all day long but it wouldn’t matter. So, I showed her I loved her by listening to her, by understanding what makes her happy, what brings her joy, and doing those things for her. If I knew she was tired and dreading cleaning the house, I’d do it before she got home. If I knew she was stressed out from school, I’d take her to get a new book.
And if I knew my wife like I believed I did, I knew she missed her birds.
I knew it killed her inside that she lost them.
I only hoped this new aviary and her new friends inside it would bring back a little joy to this house for Charlie. Because whether she felt it anymore or not, this was our home.
And I was hell bent on keeping it that way.
I heard a car pull into our drive, followed closely by the sound of two doors shutting.
She was back.
Steeling a breath, I checked those final touches I’d added to the aviary and made my way out, shutting the door carefully behind me so our new finches wouldn’t escape. Then, I made my way to the front door, checking my appearance in our foyer mirror.
I looked as tired as I felt.
My eyes were heavy, just like my heart, and my hair was a little longer than I’d let it grow in quite some time. I needed to shave, but I hadn’t had the chance — not with the aviary being my main priority.
I was still dressed in the casual workout shorts and t-shirt I’d worked in all day, a welcome change from the coat and jeans I’d been wearing for months. Spring was finally starting to greet us in Pennsylvania, and I’d opened our windows to let in the warm air. It was only in the sixties, but to us, that was a heat wave.
I ran one hand back through my hair, trying to tame the mess, and then I let out a breath and opened the front door.
No oxygen came after that last breath.
I just stood there, right inside my front door, holding onto that breath as my heart beat loud and slow in my ears. I heard each thump like a war drum, my eyes zeroed in on the target, my hands curling into fists at my side.
It was one thing to know Charlie had been unfaithful to me, and it was one thing to know another man had touched her. Those were both facts that I knew to be true.
I understood that my wife was not just mine anymore, but it was one thing to simply know that in the back of my mind.
It was another thing entirely to see it.
Reese stood at the bottom of my driveway, leaning against his car with Charlie in his arms. His lips were on hers, one hand in her hair while the other gripped her lower back, and seeing him touching her poked a bear I didn’t even realized existed inside me.
And that bear woke up like one angry, territorial son of a bitch.
My nose flared, nails biting into my palms where my fists clenched at my side, and I tried to be rational. I tried to force myself to stay in my house, to wait for her, to not let what I saw affect me.
But it was like stepping on a rattlesnake and expecting it not to strike.
A throaty growl ripped from my throat, one I’d never let loose before, one that was born from a primal instinct I couldn’t contain. I flew from the porch and down the driveway, steam rolling off me like a freight train on a cold night, and the last thing I saw was Charlie spinning in his arms, her eyes wide when she saw me, and Reese stepped in front of her, meeting me first.
“You slimy fucking bastard!” I shoved Reese hard and he stumbled back, but his chest met mine in the next instant, his gritting teeth just inches from mine. “How dare you touch my wife, in my driveway, in my home.” I shoved him again, faintly registering Charlie’s screams for me to stop in the background. “Have some fucking respect.”
“For who?” Reese challenged, bumping my chest with his. The force pushed me back, but I bowed up in the next instant, ready to fight. “For you? The only person I see here who deserves any respect is Charlie, and trust me, she always gets it from me.”
He smirked with that last line, insinuating he gives Charlie much more than his respect, and that same primal growl ripped through me before I launched at him.
Reese fought me off, but not before I socked his jaw, catching his lip with my knuckle and busting it wide open.
“Cameron, stop! Please, please, stop!”
Charlie’s little hands were on my arms, and I shrugged her off, gearing up to punch Reese again when she wiggled her way between us.
“I said STOP!”
She shoved my chest hard, and though her strength was no match for mine, I backed off, my eyes finding hers as I took four steps back toward the house.
She was crying, her eyes wet and tears staining her cheeks. I watched her struggle to catch her breath, her words still coming, though they were deaf to my ringing ears.
My gaze found the man behind her — the enemy — and every muscle in my body tensed again.
“Reese, leave.” Charlie turned to him, shoving him toward his car.
“I’m not leaving you here with him like that.”
“I said leave, damn it, Reese.”
Reese’s jaw flexed, like leaving her killed him, like I would ever do anything to hurt her. He was mental. He was fucking deranged.
I wanted to kill him.
“Fine,” he growled. “But you call me if he lays even one finger on you.”
“If you don’t get the fuck away from my wife—” I started, charging toward him again, but Charlie screamed for me to stop, shoving Reese toward the car with more fervor.
It took every ounce of willpower I had left inside me to stand rooted to that spot in our yard as he finally climbed inside and backed out of our drive, and it wasn’t until he peeled away that Charlie turned on me.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?”
“Yes, you! You tried to fight him!”
I gaped at her, throwing my hands up toward where Reese had stood.
“He had his fucking hands on you, Charlie. He was kissing you! I’m trying here, okay? I’m trying to…” I shook my head, running my hands back through my hair. I didn’t even have words. “How could I see him kissing you and not lose my fucking shit? How, Charlie?”
“Not so fun on the other side of it, is it?”
Her words slammed into me like an anvil, pinning me to the spot where I stood, crushing my lungs with the weight of them.
Two more tears slipped from Charlie’s eyes and she swiped them away, shaking her head. Her gaze fell to the ground between us, her arms folding over her middle, and in that moment, I’d never felt further from my wife.
We were just feet from each other, and yet we existed on different planets.
I didn’t even know who she was, anymore.
And she was right. I had been on the other side. She’d had to see another woman in my lap, half naked, with her hands on me.
Her words were proof that though she’d forgiven me, she’d never forget.
I couldn’t believe I was stupid enough to think telling her the truth would change that.
My eyes closed on a breath, and I scrubbed my hands down my face before letting them fall against my thighs. I looked anywhere but at Charlie, and all I knew in that moment was that I couldn’t go back inside that house with her. Not yet.
“I’m going for a walk.”
I started for the road, and Charlie didn’t move, letting me pass her as a long sigh left her lips. The blood and adrenaline that had rushed through me settled when my feet hit the blacktop, and I clenched my jaw, fighting against my own tears that were threatening to fall.
“It’s going to get cold soon,” she called behind her.
“I’ll be fine.”
And though I’d omitted telling her the whole truth about Natalia, that last sentence was the first lie I’d ever said outright to my wife.
I would be a lot of things that night, and in the next few weeks, and for the rest of my life, should I lose her.
But “fine” was not one of them.
Not even close.
Charlie
I’m not sure how long I stood at the edge of our driveway before I dragged my suitcase inside. It was long enough for dusk to settle in, for my bare arms to get chills, and for me to be able to look as far as I could down the road and not see Cameron.
The tiny bit of joy I’d managed to find the last night of the conference with Reese had vanished the moment we pulled into my neighborhood, and as if I thought that sick feeling that had rested in the pit of my stomach couldn’t get any worse, Cameron had walked outside.
He’d seen us. Together. And I knew the kind of pain that came with that sight.
I couldn’t believe he’d tried to fight Reese, and yet, I didn’t blame him. Maybe if I had been a stronger woman the day I’d walked in on him and Natalia, I would have tried to fight her, too. Maybe if I were the me who existed now, the woman who wasn’t okay with just numbly floating through her life and her marriage, perhaps then I would have pulled that woman off my husband by her long, blonde hair.
Perhaps I wouldn’t have stayed.
No, I couldn’t blame Cameron for reacting the way he did, and I couldn’t blame myself for him storming off the way he did, either. Maybe it’s what we both needed — space, distance.
I didn’t want to hurt Cameron, and yet it seemed I didn’t know how to stop.
I sighed once I was in the house, dropping my purse and suitcase at the door and kicking off my shoes. All I wanted was a hot bath and a glass of wine, and time alone.
Time to think. Time to process.
I abandoned my phone on the table in the foyer, too, knowing Reese would likely text or call soon. I wanted time away from him as much as I did away from Cameron. So, I left the phone, making my way to the kitchen to pour some wine, but I didn’t make it five steps before I stopped dead in my tracks.
Jane.
She was the first thought in my mind when I heard the chirps, but I recognized quickly that they weren’t hers. I knew her songs, just like I knew Edward’s, and the little tweets coming from our sun room were nothing like them.
They were a bit lighter, softer, sweeter.
I tiptoed toward the source of the sound, turning on lights as I slowly crossed our dining room. When I flipped on the switch that lit our sunroom, I gasped, hands flying to cover my mouth.
The beautiful, bright patio furniture I’d picked out for that room, the set that once took up most of the space inside it, had been slid over to the far right. And to the left, taking up half the room now, was the absolute last thing I expected to find.
An aviary.
Shiny, new welding wire stretched over beautiful stone, creating a home for lush greenery, bright perches and flowers to match, beautiful ficus trees, and the main attraction — two beautiful, happy, chirping finches.
I stood outside the aviary, watching them jump from perch to tree branch before they’d take flight and find a new place to land. They seemed to stick together like glue, the smallest one guiding the slightly larger one, and it was all I could do to just stare at them in wonder.
The smaller one was mostly white, it’s belly fluffy and bright as snow, with misshapen little patches of light brown dotting its head and back. It was small enough that I knew it would fit easily in the palm of my hand, just by sight alone, and I assumed from the way its mate followed that she was a girl.
The other, larger one — the one I presumed to be a male — had an entirely black head, with his feathers spiraling down into a sort of owl-striped white and black pattern from his lower back to his tail. When his partner hopped off her perch and took flight again, he quickly joined, and before I could stop it, I laughed.
My eyes were wet as I finally stepped inside the aviary, closing the door carefully behind me as I took in the scenery. It had been decorated with so much care, with attention to detail, from the colors of the flowers — the way they matched those of the hammock cover — to the trees, the way they grew in the corners and spread outward from their pots toward the center of the aviary. It was dark now, but I knew the sun would shine in on the aviary and cast beautiful shadows over the stone.
In the corner, next to the hammock, was a small, softly running waterfall that would offer clean water to our new friends.
And right beside it was a photo of Jane and Edward.
I fell into the hammock, shaking my head in wonder.
Cameron had built me an aviary.
I didn’t know why I was shocked, or even surprised in the slightest, because it was exactly something he would do. It was classic Cameron, to take his hands and build something he believed would bring me joy.
Not only had he been working so hard to give me the words I needed to hear, to let me inside his guarded heart and mind, but he had also spent his entire weekend building me an aviary.
It was the most selfless act, the most caring and thoughtful way to show me his love.
And with that realization, I choked on a sob, surrendering to my tears as the birds took flight again.
I watched them for a while before I buried my face in my hands, letting my palms absorb my cries. Everything hurt — the pain in my chest, the hole in my heart, the love I felt for both men, and more than anything, the love they had for me.
I’d never understood how love could hurt before, how it could be the knife between your ribs. It wasn’t until that exact moment that I realized love hurts more than anything, because it’s all we want, and yet it never comes easy.
Minutes turned to hours in that aviary as my tears dried on my face, and I watched my new friends fly, listening to their songs until they both settled into the same nest together. They cuddled tight and snug, their chirps softening, and with me still sitting in the hammock, they fell asleep together.
It wasn’t too long after they’d fallen asleep that I heard the front door creak open, and I stood, making my way out of the aviary as quietly as I could. I rounded the corner of our sunroom just in time to watch Cameron lock the door behind him, and when he turned back around, I nearly fell to my knees.
He looked miserable.
His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with shadows, and his shoulders sagged with what felt like the weight of the universe. He swallowed when he met my gaze, but no words came. I searched him for some hint of drunkenness, but found nothing. He’d drowned in his suffering instead of a bottle, and somehow, it made me feel worse that he was sober.
“You built this…” I whispered after a moment, my hand sweeping back toward the aviary. “You built this for me?”
Cameron’s eyes flicked to the sunroom before they found mine again. “I did.”
I smiled, though tears built in my eyes again. I couldn’t believe there were any left.
“It’s beautiful, Cameron. I… I don’t have words.”
“I hoped it would make you happy,” he said.
“It has.”
Cameron watched me then, something between a smile and a grimace crossing his face before he hung his head, shaking it slightly.
“I’m going to bed,” he said after a moment, crossing to our stairs. I stared as he climbed the first few steps before I moved to follow him.
“Wait,” I called, and he paused, though he didn’t turn to face me. “Maybe we should talk… about what happened.”
Cameron looked over his shoulder, offering only his profile, and that was enough for me to see the broken man I’d made out of my husband.
“I’m sorry, Charlie. I wanted to talk, before… but I can’t now. Not tonight. I’m sorry.”
I took a few steps up. “Can you at least try?”
Cameron shook his head again, but didn’t answer, climbing the rest of the stairs with his silence answering me, instead. I stood there on the step third from the bottom and listened as he shut the door — the one to the guest bedroom, not our own.
My hands gripped the railing tight as I lowered myself to the stairs, leaning my back against the wood and gazing into the sunroom from where I sat. I could see just the corner of the aviary from that angle, but I could still imagine how the birds looked inside it, snuggled into their nest together, a team already.
I decided then to name them after Scarlett and Rhett, from Gone With the Wind.
They were the only ones who slept in our house that night.