Where did he want to start? That was a good question. James rested an arm along the back of the loveseat and squared a look at her. “Anywhere.”
Chapter 13
Camila gulped as James’ surprising reply echoed in her head.Anywhere.
She studied his handsome face, conflicted by the obvious interest he had in her. “Narrowing things down, aren’t we?” she said with a laugh. She hoped it masked the odd dose of fear that gripped hold of her insides. A fear of him knowing about what lay in her past.
“Ah, I might hit the ladies room for a minute, if you don’t mind.” She shot to her feet, ready to make a run for the nearest restroom when a realization struck her.Don’t act crazy, Camila. You just need a second to breathe.
She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
She walked on then, the conversation playing through her head as she hurried through the doors and into the covered part of the boat. Her pulse sped up with her footsteps, fanning at the anxious flames in her chest.
I want to know more about you.
Where do you want to start?
Anywhere.
His reply showed just how interested he was in her. That he’d take whatever details he could get. Camila wanted to bask in that. To let herself feel flattered over the beauty of it.
But if they dove into any part of her life, save the very moment before them, it would surely lead to details she didn’t want to give. Details she hadn’t even told her best friend about.
As far as Gypsy was concerned, Camila’s parents had been killed in a tragic accident. It was tragic, there was no doubt about it. But the cold killing of a human being was rarely deemed an accident.
Camila slid the pocket door closed, forcing the automatic lights to kick on. She fought to block off the headlines flashing into her mind.Man Murders Wife Then Turns Gun on Self.
Man. A brief scroll down the online article revealed the name of that man. Martin Lakes. Her mother, who’d taken on the name when they married, was listed as Isabella Lakes, but she’d gone by Izzy since she was little, according to Grandma and Grandpa.
If Camila tried hard enough, she could almost remember hearing the name on her father’s lips. At least, she thought she could; it was hard to trust memories from so long ago. Especially since they’d been tainted once she discovered the truth.
Her mother had married an abusive man who eventually killed her. And her father? He’d been the killer. What if her mother resented Camila? What if Camila was the reason she’d stayed?
But there was more to it than that. If she’d worried she might have her mother’s bad taste in men, Camila had worried, too, about having a dad who was capable of what he’d done. Did that make her a monster too?
While she’d learned to accept that it didn’t, Camila worried others would come to that conclusion. She could picture Adel’s cruel post now.
Check out this article about @CamilaCooks’ parents. Guess we’re lucky she didn’t kill James for running into her.
An explosion of fire-hot heat blasted throughout her body. “No way.” She wouldnottell James what happened, and it she wouldn’t feel bad about it either. She would brush over it like she normally did and, if things got serious between them, maybe she’d tell him one day.
Camila amended the resolution in her mind.Not maybe. Of course. Of course she’d tell him if the two were about to get married or something.
Camila shoved her hands under the sink and ran some cool water over them. Rather than drying off with a fresh hand towel beside the sink, she patted her cheeks, forehead, and chin, allowing the cold moisture to calm the heat in her face.
She ignored the tightness in her shoulders and neck, forced out some pursed breaths, and took one last glance in the mirror. She could do this.
With that, Camila opened the door, headed down the hall, and stopped short as she spotted James at the head of it.
“I know I promised not to move, but I found the coolest seat in the house this morning, and I wanted to show it to you.”
The excitement in his voice made her grin. And when he reached for her hand, slipped his fingers through hers, the tightness gripping her muscles melted away. A feeling of warmth and comfort took its place as James led her up the two sets of stairs until they reached the very top deck.
There, she followed him to the front of the ship where the metal railing came to a point.
“Is this the part where I climb onto the railing and you come up behind me and we feel like we’re flying?” she asked.
“You’re onto me,” he said with a laugh. But then he pointed into the darkness at the ship’s far edge. “Don’t you see it?”
