I sit up, confused. I wasn’t expecting anyone.
When I go to the front door and look out the peephole, I see Camden standing there with what looks like a milkshake in his hand. Warmth flickers through my chest.
The second I open the door, his eyes go wide.
“Ellie, what’s wrong?”
I try to smile, but my lips are quivering with how hard I’m trying not to cry.
“Bad day.” My voice breaks.
A second later, he sets the milkshake on the nearby table and wraps his massive, muscled arms around. I sink into him, holding him tight. My entire body relaxes. The tension in my muscles from arguing with insurance reps all day fades away.
This is exactly what I need right now, a hug from my best friend.
I let out a soft cry into Camden’s chest.
“It’s okay. I’m here.” His voice is so soft and so calm and so comforting.
I let out a shaky breath and lean back to look at him. Gently, he swipes my hair out of my face and cups his hand over my cheek.
There’s a flash of pain in Camden’s focused gaze as he studies me. Like he it hurts him to see me upset. He had that same look in his eyes at the pharmacy when he defended me from that jerk. And when we sat in his car while I explained my disastrous medical and financial situation to him.
Tingles flash across my body. Usually when people find out about how dire things are with me and my health, they look at me with raw pity. I hate it.
But Camden isn’t like that. When he looks at me, there’s an intensity in his gaze. It’s protective and watchful and caring all at once. It’s like he’s channeling all this energy and focus into comforting me.
I like it. Too much.
“You brought me dessert?” I say in a weak voice.
“Banana shake with chocolate chips, no dairy. It was your favorite when we were kids. I was hoping you still like it now too.”
My tummy flips. I can’t believe he remembered that.
“What happened, Ellie?”
“Oh, the usual. Just fighting with my insurance company.” I sniffle.
His body stiffens against mine. “Are they refusing to cover your meds again?”
I nod. Anger flashes in his bright blue eyes. “Fucking assholes.”
He blinks, and the look in his gaze changes. It turns expectant. Pleading. I know exactly what he’s thinking about because I’m thinking about it too.
His proposal.
When he first asked me to marry him, I almost fell over from shock.
No way did Camden, hockey playboy and commitment-phobe, want to get married.
But then he explained himself. It wouldn’t be a real marriage—a marriage for love. It would be to help me.
All of my insides went warm and gooey when he said that. I couldn’t believe it. He was willing to do the one thing he swore he’d never, ever do for me.
But I couldn’t accept it. It was too generous. It would feel like I was taking advantage of him, even though he reassured me he didn’t see it that way at all.
But right now, when I’m so exhausted and defeated from fighting with my health insurance company and struggling just to keep myself afloat, the idea doesn’t seem so crazy.
