Just one look at the screen sent Camila’s mind to shoot off in a million different directions. Or maybe that wasn’t true. It went directly toonevery prominent direction: James.
She accepted the call with a quick tap, allowing the line to come in on her speaker. “Hello?”
“Have you taken a look at your bank account?”
Camila shot another look at the name on the screen. Still Cyree. “What? Why?”
“Because Mr. Benton left you one heck of a tip, that’s why.”
Butterflies swirled wildly around Camila’s heart. “He did?”Stop it, Camila. Don’t get excited over it.
“Most leave about twenty percent. Some give more. Some give less. But I’ve never seen anyone double the entire wage and call it a tip.”
“He gave me double?”
“Yep.”
Camila’s dumb heart was confused about what this meant. Why did this feel like such a flattering thing? It wasn’t. In fact, it almost confirmed that he thought she was after his money so he gave her more of it.
“Cyree?” Her phone dinged, alerting Camila that she needed to get onto the freeway. She wanted to be through with the call before getting up speed, so she circled around the block instead, shadows of palm trees stretching across the hood of her car as she turned.
“Yeah?”
“Can I reject the tip?”
“I don’t see how,” Cyree said, her voice cautious. “It’s already in your account.”
Little sparks of frustration crackled through her as she considered that. It didn’t seem fair for James to have the last word. Especially when that word was basically saying that he was giving her what she’d wanted most—money.
Cyree still waited on the line.
“Can’t I just…give it back to him?”
A sigh sounded through the speaker. “I would strongly advise against that. I think it would offend him.”
“Well, maybeI’moffended by the tip.” Camila sounded silly enough to gain herself an eye roll. “I mean, I’m thankful for it, and I’m flattered. But I’d rather not accept a sum so large.”
“It’s not that large when you consider the source,” Cyree assured. “Just take some time to consider before doing anything rash, okay? That’s my suggestion. And if you sincerely don’t want the money, you might consider using the funds for your charity.”
“That’s a good idea,” Camila said with a nod. “Very good, actually.” She was approaching the interstate again. “I really appreciate you, Cyree. That job has helped me out a ton.”
“I’m happy to have helped. I hope we can have you back out here soon.”
Camila sighed as a sudden longing pushed through her. “I hope so too.” But what she really hoped is that one day she’d be able to enjoy the memories she and James had made together. She might not have gotten those full twenty-eight days with him, and her time hadn’t ended in the way that she’d hoped, but Camila would give anything to replay them all the same. To go back to day one, and start all over again.
Her breakup with James had caused more heartache than she thought possible, for knowing a man for less than a month, but there was one thing Camila was certain of: if she could go back and reject the job offer, save herself the trouble and pain, she wouldn’t. Despite the loss and sorrow she’d endured, Camila would definitely do it all again.
Chapter 24
James hurried out of his car and toward the back entrance of the studio with two important people on his mind. Winston and Camila. Winston, because he’d be addressing his tragic overdose on live TV. And Camila, because she’s the one who inspired him to do it. And the truth was, thoughts of Camila were still commonplace for James.
And he liked it that way. Call him a martyr or glutton for punishment or an outright fool, but James made a habit of reliving his time with her at the Villa. They were, after all, the best days of his life. Even if they’d resulted in some of the lowest days he’d lived.
The history of Camila’s parents, found by the private investigator Stephanie had hired, had led James to a new discovery—a published poem written by her very own mother before she died. One that had clearly been written for Camila. He couldn’t be sure, but he was almost positive Camila didn’t know about it. Somehow or other, he planned to change that.
“Mr. Benton,” a voice came from behind. James almost dismissed it as paparazzi until he realized they weren’t allowed on the property. He paused, spun on one heel, and caught sight of a woman he recognized right away. He’d never seen Gypsy in person, but he’d seen enough pictures, heard enough stories, to recognize both the platinum hair and the spark of mischief in her eye.
“Yes?” he said, stepping away from the entrance and back toward the lot.
