“Hello,” he answered on the second ring. “Cameron?”
“Hey.” He didn’t say anything more, but the heaviness in his voice spoke volumes.
Asher moved his laptop to the coffee table and sat up straighter. “What happened?”
“I lost an account today.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” His words felt grossly inadequate, but he didn’t know what else to say.
“I lost the Braxton and Nash contract, too.”
“What?” Guilt crashed over him, forcing him up from his seat to pace the floor in front of the fireplace. He had a pretty good idea, but he had to ask, “Did they say why?”
“They’re concerned my life has become too high-profile, and that it might influence the case in some way.”A long, breathy sigh drifted over the line. “They’re right, of course. I’d do the same thing.”
Asher froze, his legs heavy, his feet rooted to the floor. “Cam, I’m so sorry.”
“Stop it. You didn’t do this.”
Beyond the daily inconveniences caused by the press, he hadn’t thought about how the continuous coverage might affect Cameron’s business. If he hadn’t been so focused on himself, maybe he would have seen this coming. As it stood, he was a selfish prick, and he owed Cameron a lot more than an apology.
“If I hadn’t dragged you out to dinner—”
“You didn’tdragme, and I’m not sorry it happened.” A long pause followed, but when he spoke again, he sounded calmer, steadier. “Am I disappointed I lost the account? Sure. There will be other clients, though.”
True, but gaining a client in the future didn’t negate what he’d lost that day. “Yeah, but—”
“Some things are more important,” Cameron interrupted. “I’m not going to hide just because some people are narrow-minded. That’s no way to live.”
Damn, he was amazing. Asher doubted he could have been as strong or optimistic after experiencing such a blow. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t fair. Cameron hadn’t asked for the shitstorm that had rained down on him. While he might not fault Asher for it, Asher couldn’t help but blame himself.
He wasn’t sure how yet, but he’d find a way to make it right. “When are you coming home?”
“Ryder just texted that he’s on his way up. So, with traffic, I’m guessing about half an hour.”
“Do you want me to order dinner?”
“Yes, and dessert. Lots of chocolate. And pull out a bottle of wine.”
He really wasn’t as okay as he claimed if he wanted both chocolateandwine. “I’ll take care of it.”
“All right, I better go. I’ll see you soon.”
“Be careful.”
It wasn’t until fifteen minutes later while he was selecting a bottle of wine that Asher realized he’d referred to his house as Cameron’shome. Placing the bottle on the countertop in the kitchen, he rubbed at his chest, right over his heart where it had started to ache, and sighed.
What the hell was happening to him?
Chapter Nine
Considering how much havocthe media had brought into Cameron’s life, it had taken surprisingly little time for them to grow disenchanted. By the following week, with nothing new or interesting to chronicle in the ongoing saga of Asher’s life, reporters had moved on to their next story.
No one lingered at the front gate. No news vans lined the streets of Asher’s posh neighborhood. Oz and his team had been sent home, as well as the personal security assigned to their friends and family. Piece by piece, things were slowly finding their way back to normalcy, which meant it was time for Cameron to return to his regularly scheduled life.
Flopping down in the middle of his lumpy and aged leather sofa, Cameron yawned as he pulled on his favorite pair of sneakers. The soles had mostly worn away, the stitching was frayed, and he’d already replaced the laces twice, but he just couldn’t bring himself to toss them.
After everything Asher had done to ensure his safety and comfort, it seemed ungrateful to admit it, but it felt damn good to be back in his own space. Maybe his house didn’t have all the high-end luxuries that Asher’s did, but it was his home, and he’d missed it.
