“Five thousand six hundred and eight-three dollars.”
I smile. “I was close.”
He frowns. “You spent five grand on guinea pigs?”
“Plus a shit-ton of hay.”
He closes his eyes, shaking his head. “You’re not cute.”
Almost like he’s convincing himself.
“Paisley picked out all new things for her bedroom, and I took her to a salon for her nails and hair, so make sure to compliment her on it, and then we had a super fancy and overly expensive lunch. It was delicious,” I tell him, earning an arched brow. “Don’t worry.” I pat his stomach. “I’m sure you have suits that cost double what we bought today.”
He doesn’t argue because he can’t.
Only follows me back inside, where I stop to hug Paisley. She thanks me with Jelly in her arm, and I drag my fingertip over his head a few times before I hear a strangled sound behind me. I glance over my shoulder in time to see Camden set down the new frame, filled with a family photo from draft day. Paisley wearing a too-big Founders cap, her arm around Camden’s neck with their parents on either side, their mother with happy tears on her cheeks.
I turn, feeling a stab of sympathy under my ribs. “Paisley has a bunch of pictures on her phone, and I thought it would be nice to have them printed. For the both of you.”
He nods, pivoting away from me as he clears his throat, and I doubt he’d want me to bring any more attention to his obvious emotional response, so I pass him on my way to the kitchen, where I grab my purse from the corner of the counter, next to the tins of tea. The ones I’ve been using every day.
By the time I loop it over my shoulder, Camden’s next to me, lightly touching my elbow. “Thank you.”
I dip my focus to where his long, thick fingers touch my skin and drag my eyes up his muscled forearm, to the bulk of his biceps under his T-shirt. He doesn’t have any tattoos. Nothing to take away from the veins and blooming bruise on the inside of his arm.
I skim my index finger along it. He probably wouldn’t even know what it’s from if I asked. Bruises and injuries all come with the job.
Lifting my focus higher, I trace his Adam’s apple with my gaze, the five-o’clock shadow on his jaw to his mouth, parted and wet from a slide of his tongue over his lips. Even higher are his eyes, the color of Earl Grey tea, waking me up like a hot cup usually does in the morning.
He lowers his hand from my elbow at the same time I let my finger slip from the mark on his arm, and we both spin away. As if spending one more second this close would end in violence or fireworks.
He walks me to the door in silence, leaning on the jamb once it’s open, but I don’t take the two steps into the hall. Instead, I hesitate.
My body won’t move.
Not with my heart in my throat and my pulse in my ears.
It’s disorienting, letting go of the resentment I’ve held all these years. Keeping my nails dug into the anger was the only way to shield myself from the hurt.
I’d spent my whole life being unremarkable, the forgettable middle child of the Rivera children, feeling like a disappointment to my overachieving parents. I’ve become an expert at pretending it doesn’t bother me to bejusta teacher when I am surrounded by professional athletes, doctors, and scholarship recipients.
I know I am important. What I do is, arguably, one of the most important jobs for our society, and yet my list of accomplishments falls short. The constant need to impress people is difficult to shake. I cannot outrun my insecurities, outsmart the voices in the back of my head.
Camden Long is the physical manifestation of everything I am afraid of.
To be judged and found wanting.
Except with the way he stares down at me now, I can’t remember much. I don’t know anything besides the warm liquid pooling in my belly and seeping into my limbs, the magnetic pull keeping me anchored in place. Anchored to him.
When I try to bring all the memories of my relationship with him forward in my mind, I can’t. They’re buried in a fog where I can’t recall them correctly. And when I finally grasp hold of flashes, those sharp words and even sharper smiles feel dull. The sting of pain replaced by the sting of pleasure and the need for more.
I can’t understand it, and the longer I stay here, the more confused I become. With a stiff shake of my head, I finally step into the hall, leaving him with a last piece of advice. “She only wants you to see her. That’s all.Seeher and love her.”
CHAPTER 9
CAMDEN
Nadine answersmy phone call with a wary voice. “Camden? Are you okay?”
