“Camden, don’t be like that.” She takes a step closer to me, her lashes fluttering.
My skin crawls. I hate this woman. It fucking guts me that I’ve allowed her to control so much of my life. That her betrayal kept me from trusting anyone—until Savannah.
Though I can’t help but see the silver lining and focus on that instead. Had she not betrayed me, I might have married her. And even if I saw sense and didn’t, then without her betrayal, I wouldn’t have been so broken and I probably would have met another woman and settled down, and that means I wouldn’t have Savannah. I wouldn’t have found the true definition of happiness, and I wouldn’t be ready to propose. If the only way to get here was to live life as a shell of a man for almost three decades, then so be it. I’d do it all over again.
“Take care of yourself, Tara.” I turn on my heel and head back to my car. I can talk to Rosalie and Nick another time. Right now I want to get home to my girl. We don’t need perfect to be happy. I just need her.
“If you change your mind,” Tara calls, “I’ll be staying here with Savannah for the next week or so.”
A bark of a laugh rips its way out of me. Like I’d ever change my mind. I’m halfway to my car when the rest of her comment registers, and I whip around. “Did you say Savannah?”
She gives me another one of those fake flirty smiles and saunters toward me. “Yeah, my daughter Savannah. She lives here.”
It’s like a punch to the gut. Like being hit by a train. And as the pieces fall into place, my world crumbles around me.
How’s your relationship with your dad?
Nonexistent.
I can work with that.
I didn’t know you were from Vegas.
I don’t really…
Her mother is a piece of work and her father never wanted to be one.
Memory after memory pummels me, stealing my breath and all my strength. I bend at the waist and suck in air, my chest burning. No fucking way.
“Camden.” Tara sounds like she’s in a tunnel. I can’t make out a word she’s saying. None of them matter anyway.
Because Savannah, my Savannah, is Tara’s daughter. The woman I was about to propose to is the daughter of my ex-girlfriend. The daughter, that for a moment in time, she tried to play off as mine.
The nausea wins out when reality sinks in, and my stomach lurches violently, and then I lose my breakfast all over the goddamn street.
How the fuck did she do it to me again? She ruined everything.
FORTY-TWO
SAVANNAH
Every single phonecall to Camden goes unanswered. It’s been three hours, and I haven’t heard a fucking word. My heart is in my throat and my stomach is in knots.
I’ve tried to convince myself that I overreacted. There’s got to be an explanation. Even if the bet was in place when we started dating, he cares about me. He couldn’t have made it all up. Couldn’t have lied that well. And why? He could have just dated me, or anyone for that matter. He didn’t need to tell me he loves me and move me into his home. He isn’t that cruel.
I text him again.
Me: We need to talk. Please call me back as soon as you can.
I set the phone on the bathroom counter and stare into the mirror. My eyes are red rimmed, my skin pale. I’ll wash my face, do my makeup, and get dressed. Cam will be home soon, and we’ll figure this out.
There has to be an explanation.
The stress weighing on me over the bet situation is heavy, but thewhole ex-girlfriend being my mother thing is almost enough to make my knees buckle.
My stomach rolls again. This fucking day can go get fucked.
I blow out a breath. Time to be a big girl. I should call my mother and talk to her. Convince her not to come. Maybe if I cut her from my life for good, Camden never has to know.
