COMPLETED. A university student. A professional hockey player. They've proved they can be friends. Can they be more?
Although they're both in their early twenties and living in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, their lives couldn't be more different. Cami...
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The first time Camille saw this living room, her eyes were saucers and her lips were parted in amazement. We had been living in my condo for just under a year and although things were better than great – because that's how life with Camille is – I decided it was time for an upgrade when I got my contract extension with the Saints. It was worth 10 million dollars. A year. So, yeah, an upgrade was definitely warranted.
Camille and I had talked about investing in a modest house; not one of those empty, spacious mansions that can barely qualify as a home. But when my realtor sent me a link to this place, I couldn't resist. It's not what anyone except for the world's top 1% would call modest, but it had character and charm. Along with multiple chandeliers and an interior balcony – which I knew was Camille's dream.
I didn't even bother showing Camille the online photos. I managed to convince the realtor to give me a key – which didn't take much – and surprise her by driving here after one of my home games.
"Taylor, why are we driving into Rosedale? Your place is the other way," she had asked.
I had fought a smile. "Just want to show you something."
"T, if this is a property, I do—"
"C, please reserve your judgement for at least another 5 minutes, until we get there. If you don't like it, we can turn right around without another word. You have to love it or I won't live there."
Her sigh had filled the entirety of my jeep. "Well, when you're so freaking sweet and understanding about it, I can go along with it."
She loved it. Immediately. She was thrilled with the place, bopping around from room to room. She even blasted the song "What a Feeling" by some boyband she used to love as we danced around her kitchen. She said that had always been a dream of hers – to dance romantically in a kitchen.
"Taylor," she had whispered against my ear as I held her close to my chest. "You literally make my dreams come true."
It's now been a few months since we officially took ownership. Camille is standing at the threshold of the living room, with a look that is a far cry from that first one. Her cheeks are flushed and she's mashing on her lips. Her eyes seem nervous.
"Die fucker!"
Camille's presence had distracted me; I briefly forgot some teammates were over playing Call of Duty.
"Guys, just a second," I announce to a few non-committal grunts.
"Hey, what's up?" I put my hands on her cheeks and stroke gently. She shudders. That could be due to her wearing only a black tank top on top of her light grey sweatpants. It's a warm June, but not that warm. "Did something happen?" She left about half hour ago, just as my friends arrived, to run an errand.
"No, nothing, noth—. Can we go upstairs?"
Someone starts singing "bow chicka wow wow" and another one of these imbeciles makes an "ow" sound.
"Guys, shut the hell up." My body is covering Camille's, shielding her from the immaturity, but I turn my head slightly and see that they sober up quickly.
"Yeah, yeah of course," I tell her.
I let Camille lead me up our grand staircase and watch her clutch her purse to her side. Like I thought she would, she heads straight for our bedroom. She paces for a moment, sits on the bed, then stands again. I catch her in my arms.
"You're scaring me, Camille. Can you please tell me what's going on?"
"Taylor, I'm late."
A haze settles over me. She keeps speaking and her voice sounds far away.
"I haven't had my period in three months. I think... I think I might be pregnant."
"Okay," I say like an idiot.
"I just went to Shoppers to buy a test. Taylor, I think I might be pregnant."
Her breathing grows shallow and noisy. Camille's always been prone to panic attacks, so I guide her to sit on the floor and instruct her to tuck her head between her knees. I sit next to her, rubbing her back.
"It's going to be okay baby."
Shit. Baby.
Once her breathing has gone back to normal, she leans against the bed.
"We should probably take the test, yeah?"
"Yeah, I think we should."
"Can we talk about this first?" Camille has tears in her eyes now.
"Of course. You can always talk to me."
She nods a few times. "No matter what the test says...you won't be mad at me, right?"
"What?" My heart sinks to my stomach. "No, never."
"I'm just so confused. I don't know what to think, or want. I've been late before but not by this long. Maybe it's the stress from finishing my dissertation or maybe I skipped a pill one day and didn't realize, but that's unlikely. I'm scared."
I gently pull Camille until she is sitting in between my legs. "It's okay to be scared. This could be a huge life-altering thing."
"Are you scared?"
"Yeah," I admit. "Sometimes I wonder if I have it in me to be a good dad."
"Oh, Taylor, you don't have to worry about that. You just have to be you. But me, what about me? Does a child deserve to have me as a mom?"
Her words shock me. I didn't know she was insecure about this.
"Camille, any child would be so damn lucky to be yours."
She wipes her nose with her wrist.
"Okay, I am ready to take the test."
I watch the love of my life and mother of my potential child step into our en suite where she presumably pees on a stick. It's only a few minutes while we wait for the results but it feels like so much longer. Camille and I will get married sometime in the near future, and we both want kids. We just thought we'd plan for it.
When Camille emerges my heart stops beating. She shakes her head.
"Negative?" I gasp.
"Negative," she confirms.
Oh. Okay.
We stand a few feet apart, seemingly unsure what comes next.
"So that's that," she says.
"Hey, you okay?"
Despite the falling tear, she insists she is.
"I love you Taylor. And I'd love to grow a part of you inside me one day. I guess it's just not now."
