A cool wind rushed over James’ face as he shuffled to the edge of the deck, phone held to his ear. “Stephanie?”
“Please don’t be angry. I just need you to listen.”
“Is this about Camila?” he’d asked.
The pause in her response was an answer of its own. “You’re dating her now,” she said cautiously, “I know that. So I think you should be aware of a very disturbing part of her past. You might not want to be dating—”
“Her past? I know that she grew up without her parents.”
“Yeah, but do you know why?”
Now it was James’ silence giving him away. There was nothing scandalous about an accident. So was there more to the story?“Of course I know. And you can consider this your last warning, Stephanie. I asked you to leave her alone, so do it.”
Ending the call didn’t feel final enough. As he looked at the small phone in his hand, his arm ached with the urge to hurl the device into the open wind. Perhaps he should’ve left the thing back in the closet.
What was Stephanie so worried about? That Camila was some money-grabbing thief? That simply wasn’t the case, and James was sure of it.
What if she’d lied about her parents’ death? Perhaps they were still living, and in a bad way financially. Maybe they’d convinced her to seek him out and come up with some scheme to get their hands on some cash.
A sick knot rumbled through his gut at the thought. A betrayal like that would sting.
Perhaps he should come out and ask. Give Camila the chance to tell him if she hadn’t been completely honest about her past. He didn’t want to be some distrusting boyfriend, but…The mere wordboyfriendmade him realize that he hadn’t made that official with her just yet. He wanted to. But could he handle having a girlfriend when one call from his PA could send him into a full-on panic?
He didn’t have an answer for that. Perhaps only time would tell. For now, James had his brother’s journal to go through. The idea made his gut curl anew. As soon as breakfast was through, it’d be time to unzip that leather case and see what it held once and for all.
Talking about it with Camila, deciding that today would be the day—that had been one thing. But to think about how quickly that moment would come, how damaging the discoveries might be, was another.
With fear gripping hold of him once more, tightening his jaw, chest and throat, James shut his eyes and sent a few short words to the heavens.Please, help me get through this. Help me heal. And…An image of Camila floated through his mind.Please let her be as incredible as I think she is.
Chapter 18
Camila ran a brush through her hair while eyeing the vanity mirror. She smoothed a hand down the length, forced herself to set the hairbrush down, and squared a look at her reflection.
“Maybe I should just tell him,” she mumbled. Camila didn’t think James was entitled to knoweverythingabout her past. He wasn’t. But did she really want him to find out some other way?
No.Already Camila had to fight off some paranoid frenzy each time Stephanie reached out.
Another part of her spoke up. A usually quiet corner of her heart. It said that, for now, James was in love with the Camila whose parents had died. That wasalmostthe real her. But it still fell short. What she really wanted was someone to look at the real Camila, the one whose father murdered her mom, and to love her exactly the same.
That love would mean even more. And so would hers, because she’d trusted him enough to share such a vulnerable piece of herself. Of course, they hadn’t used the L-word just yet, but she was definitely falling in love with James, and Camila was confident he felt the same.
She nodded and set her resolve. Yes. She could do it. Before their time at the resort was through. She straightened her blouse, smoothed a hand down her cutoff jeans, then walked through a quick squirt ofcherry orchard body spray.
Ready.
The mansion was bright today, but not sunny. There was more of a luminescent glow pushing through the glass of every window. Camila could hardly keep her eyes off the view as she headed up the central staircase. The clouds created a cooler feel, the blue sky accented by purples and grays rather than the warm tones of bright yellow and gold. And though it was as lovely as it ever had been, signs of the impending storm caused an odd sense of foreboding. One Camila worked to shake off.
Earlier that week, she and James had explored the villa together. They’d discovered a bonus floor at the very top, a cozy loft with pitched ceilings, comfy lounge chairs, and a jukebox. That’s where they’d planned to go through the journal.
Like James’ room, the sitting area opened up into an adjoining area—a game room that they had yet to explore. Perhaps once James had done what he needed to do, learned what he needed to learn, they could dispel the lingering darkness with air hockey and indoor hoops.
Camila stepped onto the top floor at last, and spotted him at the entrance of the loft—a small foyer with a rug, a bench, and a potted plant. She took in his posture: Head bowed, shoulders curled, gaze set on the book in his hand. And suddenly all of her worries—the insecurities over James accepting her as she was—all of it melted. This moment was for him. James had been putting this off for a solid year, torturing himself with what he might find. Time to put it behind him at last.
“Ready, Eddie?” she called.
James inhaled deeply, nodding as he strode toward her. “I think so.” He took hold of her hand, his skin warm against hers, and brought it to his lips. “Thanks for doing this with me. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be putting this off for another year.”
“I’m happy to do it,” she assured him.
