“What is it?” she asks.
Her hand moves to her cheek.
“Do I have something on my face?”
“This is just nice,” I say finally.
She bites her lower lip.
“I’ve felt bad for how things seem to go wrong between us at some point in every conversation. I don’t mean for it to be that way,” I confess.
“Really?” Her head tilts as she studies me. “I’ve gotten the impression at times that you enjoy fighting with me.”
“Well, for the longest time, you ignored me. So any reaction is better than none.”
Her lips part when I say that, and we stare at each other for a long moment.
The server comes up, and we order drinks and the specials. Once she leaves, we’re quiet, and I wonder if maybe I said too much and made things awkward.
But then she says, “You know, at Christmas…”
When she doesn’t say anything else, I lean in.
“What about Christmas?” I ask.
“I’ve remembered bits and pieces.”
“There are parts you don’t remember?”
I lean back, wondering if my pride should be hurt that she doesn’t remember the electricity between us that night.
“Will you fill in the blanks?” she asks.
“It was nothing major.” I shake my head slightly and see a flash of something cross Juju’s face.
It’s gone the next second, and I’m relieved when our server interrupts the moment to place our drinks and a large bread basket on the table.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HUMAN FREEZER
JULIANA
And here I thought we were finally getting somewhere.
Nope.
Back to square one.
Camden has been so sweet today, but I shouldn’t have expected him to clarify things for me. He’s never made things easy. His being so nice today has taken me by surprise, and I really enjoyed being with him more than I could have anticipated, but I’m embarrassed that I thought he felt anything at Christmas. Now I know that either I did imagine everything or he didn’t feel like it was “anything major.”
Talk about a blow to the ego. He’s been good at doing that for years now. Why would I think anything had changed? Our food comes, and I can tell that Camden is a little bit uncomfortable. Our conversation has become stilted, mostly because I’m barely responding anymore. I think I’ve checked out. It reminds me of how things were when I was a kid and looking for his approval so much of the time.
I’m over that.
“Juju,” he says, “I can’t help but feel like I’ve messed things up.”
“Hmm? No.” I pretend to be interested in the people around us as I eat my delicious meal, and he gives up trying after a few failed attempts of getting me to talk.
