Please Hate Me (Unholy #1)

25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Cameron

I sat alone in our silent house, contemplating the handwritten list of dualities in my lap. Sophia was always telling me to write down my emotions to get them out of my head, and I desperately needed to sort out how I felt about Mason. The answer should’ve been cut and dry, but... it wasn’t.

She was too young for me, but based on our conversations, I knew she was wise beyond her years. I didn’t want to be a father, but the idea of never getting to hold my baby girl was physically painful. I didn’t want to love Mason, but I wanted her to love me.

That last bit was selfish, and I knew it. I tossed my notebook aside and stood up, hoping to find something more productive to do. I wandered into the kitchen looking for chores, but frustratingly enough, Sophia had already cleaned. The dishes were done, floors mopped, counters spotless. There wasn’t even any trash to take out. So, I checked upstairs—surely the twins had made some kinda mess up in their playroom. But I forgot they’d been away for several days. Lucian had gone through and organized their toys, sorting them into neat little rows on the shelves that lined the walls. I meandered back downstairs to my room, but I didn’t own much to begin with, so there was nothing to sort.

Unfortunately, I ended up back in the living room with nothing to do. I plopped myself back down on the couch next to my infernal list and decided to distract myself by watching videos on my phone. I always liked the ones with drunk guys trying to drive lawn mowers. But before I could type anything into the search bar, another video caught my eye:

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW! Mason Albright opens up about her latest album!

God always did find the strangest ways to speak to me.

I ended up watching a few of Mason’s old interviews. In the more recent ones, she resembled the woman I knew: intriguing, yet reserved, keeping everyone at a distance. But in her older videos, I began to see someone completely different. Her smile was bright, she was witty and outspoken, and it was easy to see how she attracted so many admirers. I had to wonder... did that person still exist in her? If she could heal from the wrongs that’d been done to her, would I be able to meet her true self someday?

Glancing at the clock, I noticed it was getting close to supper time. Mason and Sophia would probably be thrilled if I had food already on the table when they got home. I’d been inspired by one of Mason’s interviews; she said her favorite food was roasted mushroom caps, and I figured I could come up with a decent meal around that. She and Lucian could have mushrooms, and I could make chicken for Sophia and myself.

I pushed myself off the couch and snipped a few sprigs of rosemary from our herb garden in the window. Once I’d gathered enough, I brought it to the cutting board. I stripped the thin green leaves off the woody stem, then grabbed a chef’s knife and began chopping them into tiny specks.

“Rosemary,” I mumbled as the scent of the herbs tickled my nose.

Oddly enough, it wasn’t dinner I was thinking of; it was my daughter. Mason had given her that God-awful name— Lavender . In theory, if I were to step up and help raise my kid, if I did everything Sebastian’s been doing besides the doctor’s appointments, would she view me as the baby’s father?

And if she did, would she consider changing that laundry-detergent-sounding name she’d already decided on?

“Rosemary,” I repeated, a smile begging to grow on my lips. “Rosemary Gale Albright.”

My smile grew so wide it hurt my cheeks. I didn’t want to risk the baby being linked to me, so passing the last name ‘Cole’ to her would be out of the question. But I figured it was safe enough to let her borrow the middle name I’d been born with.

Hell, I was putting the cart before the horse. Mason must’ve liked the name if she was willing to give it to her daughter, and I had no reason to believe she’d be willing to change it. Still, it was nice to dream.

A rush of cold air from the front door interrupted my musings. Excitement mounted in my chest at the idea that it could be my girls walking in... But I only heard one set of footsteps. Lucian had told me he’d be working late, and his sister Leona wasn’t due to drop off the kids until tomorrow morning. Aside from a burglar, there was only one person who could be walking into the house.

Sebastian .

The drop of a suitcase echoed through the house, followed by footsteps drawing near. My shoulders went stiff, and I prepared to have a civil conversation with the one person I simultaneously feared and envied.

His eyes avoided mine as he entered the kitchen and walked to the opposite side of the island. He was dressed in a well-tailored navy suit, and in his arms was a large bouquet of black dahlias and red roses. It was a little tacky if you asked me, but who was I to judge?

I cleared my throat and prepared a greeting, more out of courtesy than anything.

“Hey, welcome—”

“Where’s Mason?”

The lack of emotion in his voice sent chills down my spine. Was this guy even human? Even though I was bigger than him by a mile, his presence made me feel small. Helpless, even.

I didn’t like that feeling.

“She and Soph went out to get their nails done. They were gonna be home by now, but I guess Mason needed some clothes to grow into.” I tried to keep my tone conversational, despite my disgust.

Sebastian didn’t respond, just pinched his lips and raised his eyebrows to let me know he heard me. We sat in awkward silence for an eternal moment.

“So... How long y’all been datin’?”

“Twenty-one weeks, four days, and—” he stopped to check his watch— “six hours. Why?”

What kinda creep measured the length of his relationship down to the hour? I had to break eye contact—the nicotine withdrawals were making it impossible to keep my temper in check, and I was desperate to punch this asshole. But I realized that was a bit extreme… and it might upset Mason if I hit her boyfriend.

“If y’all been together that long, ain’t it your job to make sure she has clothes that fit?” The venom-laced words escaped my lips before I could stop them. “She’s still wearing regular jeans.”

When I looked up, Sebastian’s lips were contorted into a tight smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. His nostrils flared, and he tipped his head like it hurt to keep it straight.

“Maybe I’m a bit old-fashioned,” His tone was casual and his voice low, like he wanted me to lean in to hear him. “But isn’t the sperm donor typically the one caring for the mother? Financially, of course.”

Well, that didn’t make any goddamn sense—as far as I knew, sperm donors weren’t involved at all with the women who used their samples. I rubbed a hand over my jaw as one quick, hot breath warmed my fingers. Deep down, I knew it was better to ignore Sebastian. He just wanted to get a rise out of me. Normally, I’d be the bigger person and walk away, but the unshakable nicotine headache was clouding my judgment.

“I ain’t a sperm donor,” I warned. “That’s my girlfriend and my baby. Thanks for caring for them until I could, even if you did a shitty job.”

Wait—did I just call Mason my girlfriend? Sebastian seemed to notice the same moment I did. He blinked twice before putting the flowers down, leaning onto the island, and tapping the screen of his smartwatch. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but my gut told me he was recording me.

“Tell me, Cameron Cole, do you speak French?”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. If Sebastian was gonna try to interrogate me, the least he could do was be subtle about it. Sophia had said something about him being too rich to be a cop, but I didn’t buy it. This guy was law enforcement, no doubt about it. It didn’t matter if it was bacon or ham; a pig was a pig no matter which way you butchered ’em.

Cop or not, though, it felt unwise to tell him the truth.

“Not a word, why?”

His golden brows shot up, causing wrinkles to form on his forehead. We stared at each other for a beat like wild predators unexpectedly crossing paths, before he tapped the screen of his watch again. If he wasn’t careful, I was gonna break that damn thing.

“You don’t speak a single word of French?” he repeated. “Weren’t you just in France for approximately half a year?”

I wasn’t sure how much Luce and Soph had told this creep about me, so all I could do was play dumb.

“Never cared to learn. I had a translator with me the whole time.”

“So, if I started speaking to you in French, you wouldn’t understand it?”

“That’s what I said, ain’t it?”

He pulled back, slapping the counter once as he stood. He slowly removed his blazer, hanging it on a nearby stool before rolling up the cream sleeves of his probably-too-expensive button-down. The muscles in his arms twitched with movement.

Is this really the type of guy Mason’s attracted to?

Clearly, this guy was a gym rat; he’d spent a lot of time working his glamor muscles. Myself, I preferred to work hard and let my muscles develop naturally, but to each his own. I let my attention bounce around Sebastian’s herculean frame, eventually settling on his face. His dead-eyed gaze stayed fixed on mine.

She can do better.

“What are you making?” he asked, breaking the tension.

I’m sure he realized he wasn’t gonna get anywhere by antagonizing me. But that didn’t mean I had to be cordial to him. I dropped the knife and rubbed my hands together to knock off any lingering herbs.

“It’s Mason’s favorite. Why don’t you tell me?”

He eyed me for a moment, then reached over and dusted his fingers in the minced herbs before bringing them to his nose.

“Pardon me if I’m wrong, but I don’t know of a single sushi recipe that involves… this is rosemary, correct?”

He knew the time he and Mason started dating down to the hour, but not her favorite meal? Some boyfriend he was.

“That’s not her favorite—”

“Yes, it is,” he yawned. He pulled out his phone and started scrolling, seemingly losing interest in me altogether.

But then, after a moment, he continued:

“The first week I visited, I helped her move out of the apartment she shared with her ex-fiancé and back in with her father. Every single night, we got sushi.”

He slid his phone into my view, showing me a photo of Mason and him sitting together in a restaurant. His arm was slung around Mason’s shoulders, but he had a dark bottle of beer in his hand. Mason looked like she didn’t even know he was taking a picture; she had a piece of sushi halfway in her mouth. She didn’t look as happy with Sebastian as she had in the older photos with Sophia and Lucian.

“Normally, pregnant women shouldn’t consume sushi, but since she’s a vegetarian, the risks were very low,” he continued. He swiped through several more photos, displaying a similar scene taking place on several different occasions.

“Exactly, she’s pregnant. It was probably just a craving.”

“You know what? Let’s pretend you’re right.” Sebastian wove his fingers together and stretched his arms toward the ceiling. “It’s not like I’ve loved her for over a decade, and you’ve known her, what, a month?”

Once again, I weighed the pros and cons of punching Sebastian.

“ You’ve loved her for a decade? She was with your brother and Sophia in high school. Seems suspect to me.”

“Because I still knew her, and I’ve always been perfect for her. She just took a bit longer to realize what I always knew: we were meant to be together. I can assure you, if she had to pick between me and your little polycule , she’d pick me.” He snatched his phone off the counter and smirked. “You’re trying to play checkers at a chess tournament, Cameron Cole. I’m the soulmate. You’re the fling.”

I gritted my teeth and drew a breath through my nose as I mentally counted to ten. After seeing the way Mason relaxed when she put her face in his hoodie, I didn’t doubt he was right. That didn’t mean I had to like it.

Sebastian turned on his heels, heading past the living room toward the stairs. “Send her up to my apartment when she gets back. She’ll be happy to see me.”

He could’ve left it there, but he spun around just before turning the corner into the small hallway that led toward the staircase.

“Oh, one last thing.”

I tried to keep my face expressionless as I looked at him. His smirk turned downright evil. Whereas before he’d been regarding me as a fellow predator, now he was sizing me up as prey. He then proceeded to say something about Mason so vulgar it would’ve made a prostitute blush:

“ La mère de ton gosse est une sale petite garage à bites. ”

The silence that followed was torturous. It took everything I had to keep my face blank, to pretend I had no idea what his words meant. If I showed the barest hint of anger, he would win.

“Oh, that’s right, you don’t speak French.” He laughed maniacally before vanishing into the hallway.

I took a deep, slow breath. Mason was an adult; she was allowed to make her own decisions when it came to her love life. I had no reason to meddle in her affairs, but I knew one thing for sure: I didn’t want Sebastian raising my daughter.

My attention slowly turned to the flowers. I closed my eyes, saying a quick prayer for forgiveness. I knew I was about to do wrong, but what Mason didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. So, I grabbed the flowers and dropped them in the garbage. The white bag puffed up as they hit the bottom. I waited for some of the air to escape, then cleaned up the rosemary, tied the bag, and took out the trash.