“I think that has more to do with the housekeeping services than your actual house.”
He puffs up his cheeks, blowing out a breath that turns into a good-humored chuckle. “I don’t know how I can compete with this. Every birthday and anniversary, she’ll thinkThis isn’t as nice as the time Camden Long paid for a weekend away in a four-star hotel.”
“I doubt that, but I’m glad you’re all having a good time.”
“Hey, Dad, catch!”
Hank spins around to catch the football Bryson tosses him, effectively ending our conversation, so I move closer to the window as the team runs out of the tunnel, through a cloud of fog.
Camden really did go above and beyond, and I find him immediately, toward the back of the pack. He always used to lead in the front, flapping his hands up and down, riling up the crowd, but now he’s more subdued. Still jumping around, though clearly focused on himself as opposed to the people in the stands.
He does a few lunges, shakes out his arms, then pulls off his helmet, pivoting with one hand on his hip, head up, as if skating his gaze around the stadium. I’m not sure if he knows where weare, but he seems to be looking in this direction, and I lift my hand. Just in case he can see me.
He does, pointing his index finger at me. I grin back before swinging around to Paisley. “Hey, look. Do you see your brother?”
She joins me by the window, waving wildly, and Camden holds up the sign forI love you, which Paisley returns. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the camera catches it, and we’re on the jumbotron, Paisley and I. My smile immediately slips, and I motion for her to sit back down, hoping the attention of the entire stadium is no longer on us. The camera focuses on Camden then, but he either doesn’t notice or care, his attention on the field.Myattention is on the maroon and gray woven bracelet around his wrist that he idly toys with.
They beat Detroit 42-35.
After the game, Paisley and Ava beg us to let them have a sleepover, which we expected. I’d already planned to stay at the penthouse, so Ava and Paisley can sleep in her room while I’m right down the hall, and we all hop back in the limo to drop Kate, Hank, and Bryson off at the Four Seasons then head home, where Paisley asks if we can order pizza. As if they haven’t eaten their faces off all day. But what Paisley wants, Paisley gets with Camden’s Amex that I’ve now memorized the numbers of.
They settle in the media room with their large pepperoni, garlic knots, two liters of soda, andShe’s The Man.By then, Camden arrives, all smiles. “Where is she?”
“Watching a movie with Ava.”
He nods and turns that way while I clean up the mess of gifts, flowers, and bags in the kitchen. A few minutes later, he reappears, hair still wet from a shower, wearing joggers and a hoodie.
“You played well,” I say, trying to find a home for the leftover birthday cake.
But he doesn’t let me stick it in the fridge and plucks the boxright out of my hands. “Thanks, and thank you for taking care of everything today.”
I sidle up next to him as he cuts himself a big slice. “It was fun.”
He grabs a fork and scoops a hefty portion of the cake onto it. “You’re wearing your brother’s jersey.”
I pinch at it with a laugh. “Yeah.”
He grunts and then stuffs cake into his mouth.
“Is it a problem to support my brother? Your quarterback?”
He shakes his head, scoops up another piece of cake and then holds it out to me, his hand underneath in case it drops. “Open.”
I mindlessly follow his direction, opening my mouth so he can feed me the cake. It’s as delicious as it was this afternoon, and I lick my lips of the frosting. “This is really good. Where’d you get it from?”
“Same place as the cannoli.” He forks himself a piece of cake. And then one for me.
That’s how we finish the whole slice. One bite for him. One for me. His eyes on my lips, his hands serving me. His voice quiet as he asks what we did, interested if Ava’s family enjoyed themselves, wanting to know every detail. He smiles satisfactorily when I tell him that everyone had fun. That Bryson said it was the best day ever. “And I think you’ve won over your sister for the rest of her life.”
“Yeah?” He wipes his thumb over the corner of my mouth, a smear of pink that he licks off, and my knees go wobbly. “What about you?”
“Have you won me over?” When he nods, I feel myself sinking into him, leaning so far into his space that my hip brushes the knuckles of the hand he has wrapped around the edge of the counter. His index finger scratches at my maroon jersey with the number 12. Camden’s number is 88, and I wonder what he would think if I wore it. If it would make him feel like an electrical current is running through his chest, like it does mine at the mere idea.
If I ever actually put on a jersey with his name and number, I might never want to take it off.
This man I used to hate.
And now can’t seem to stop falling for.
