Cameron opened his eyes and rested his chin on the top of Jasmine’s head. “Maybe you need to get out more.”
“You’re probably right about that. It’s a good thing you guys only do this once a year.”
“This is going to be the last year for a while. Danny Morris told me his daughter is expecting his first grandchild, so we won’t get together again for five years.”
“Are you sure you’ll be up to a week of nonstop partying when you’re fifty-three?”
Cameron buried his face in Jasmine’s hair. “I’ll have to wait and see. A lot of things can happen in five years.”
The ride from the pier to Jasmine’s apartment building was accomplished in record time. It was early Sunday morning and vehicular and pedestrian traffic was light. The driver got out and came around to open the door. Cameron alighted, reached into the pocket of his trousers and handed the man a bill. “Thanks for everything.”
The driver pocketed the bill, nodding. “Thank you, Mr. Singleton. Call me when you’re ready to leave for the airport.”
“I will.” Cameron used the same car service whenever he came to New York, and always requested the same driver. Turning, he extended his hand to Jasmine. “Let’s go, sleepyhead.” Jasmine handed him her shoes while she gathered her shawl and purse.
“You don’t have to carry me.”
He lifted his eyebrows questioningly. “Are you sure?”
She placed her sock-covered feet on the sidewalk. “Yes.”
Cameron took her hand, gently easing her to a stand. Everyone had danced, drank, and ate too much and when the yacht finally returned to Chelsea Pier the revelers disembarked as if in a trance. Rows of town cars were parked at the curb with drivers holding signs with the names of their passengers. The live band and deejay alternated, playing nonstop because the stand-up comedian’s flight from Chicago was canceled, and his routine would’ve provided a respite from the continuous dancing. After sailing three hundred miles up the river to the Adirondack Mountains, the ship reversed direction. By the time the US Military Academy at West Point came into view, the crew had set up a buffet breakfast on the first deck with an omelet station, flutes of mimosas and Bellinis, chicken and waffles, pancakes, eggs Benedict, bacon, sausage, ham, and steak.
The last two reunions Cameron had come unaccompanied because there wasn’t a woman with whom he felt strongly enough about to bring her with him to New York for the week. There were occasions when he embarked on what he thought of as a dating drought. He refused to see anyone and declined invitations to social events to reconnect with his inner self.
Cameron knew many local New Orleanians thought of him as a middle-aged, well-to-do, bachelor from a prominent family who’d earned the reputation of being a womanizer and serial dater, and Cameron said nothing to dispel the myth. He wasn’t a womanizer or a serial dater. On average he dated no more than two women in any calendar year, but that did not stop the gossips from exacerbating the fabrication.
He nodded to the liveried doorman standing under the canopy as he escorted Jasmine inside the lobby to the elevators. She punched the button, the doors opened, and they stepped into the car. Cameron wrapped his arms around her body, pulling her close to his chest.
“Are you all right, Cinderella?”
She buried her face against his shoulder. “I can’t be Cinderella because she left the ball at midnight.”
“If I remember the story correctly, didn’t she lose her shoes?”
“Shoe, Cameron. She lost one of her shoes and the prince found it.”
Cameron smiled. “That’s right. He didn’t know who she was and had to search the entire kingdom before he could find the woman who could fit the shoe. He married her and they lived happily ever after.”
Jasmine leaned back, meeting his eyes. “Look at you. When did you become an authority on fairytales?”
“I have nieces who are obsessed with fairytales and whenever Uncle Cam babysits them they beg me to read to them because I use different voices for each character.”
“Has Uncle Cam thought about auditioning as a narrator for a recorded book?”
Throwing back his head, Cameron laughed. “I don’t think so, babe. First I’d have to work with a diction coach to get rid of my drawl.”
“I happen to like your drawl,” Jasmine said when the elevator stopped at her floor. They exited the car. “You sound like Harry Connick, Jr.”
“That’s because we’re homeboys.”
When she opened her bag to take out her keys Cameron saw the condoms that were among other male and female personal items the boating company made available to party-goers. He recalled her statement as clearly as if she’d just said it:If I was going to sleep with anyone tonight, then it would be you, and not some woman or her husband.And he remembered she’d stressedif,which he interpreted that there was no guarantee she would permit him to make love to her. He didn’t want to think of her taking the condoms because she wanted to be prepared to sleep with another man. She’d admitted she hadn’t slept with anyone since the breakup of her marriage and Cameron wanted to be the one to introduce her to passion. She unlocked, opened the door, and walked inside, while he waited for her to invite him.
Jasmine turned and stared at him. “Aren’t you coming in?”
“Are you inviting me?”
She gave him a stunned look. “Of course I am.”
