She stared at it for a blink as the thing switched stations. A quick glance over her shoulder said no one was in the room with her. So just how was all this happening?
A buzz sounded from her phone, drawing her attention to where it lay face-up on the counter. It was from Shane.
Shane Faretti:Don’t mind the TV. We’re doing a bit of maintenance. It will go off shortly.
Camila wiped off her hands and tapped out a reply.Okay. No problem.
The screen continued to blare with an advertisement for hand soap, another for baby food, and at last it settled on Samantha Pingley’s famous daytime talk show. Camila patted the watermelon dry and hoisted it onto the marble chopping block, the talk show fading into the distance as she gauged the thickness for each slice.
Inwardly, she was recalling the many times she’d diced the sweet melons for James at the resort. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was missing her too. What things did he come across that made him think back on their time together?
“Here with the one and only James Benton,” a voice came from the screen.
Camila’s eyes went wide. She had to be imagining it. Yet as she moved her gaze from the knife to the flat screen, Camila saw that it was, in fact, James sitting across from Samantha Pingley.
It felt as if her hands had gone numb, and possibly the rest of her body too.
“Before the break, you told us about an organization you’re partnering with to educate youth on the dangers of drug addiction. You mentioned losing your own brother, Winston Benton, to addiction just last year. Can you explain how the idea to take action came about?”
Camila’s muscles clenched up in defense as the camera panned back to James. As if she could somehow buffer the blow of seeing his face. Hearing his voice. Feeling the intense clash of love and loss.
“A dear friend of mine helped me realize that I couldn’t hide from the pain forever,” James said. “Trust me, I tried. She also encouraged me to speak up about Winston’s overdose. To see if we can’t prevent this new generation from falling victim to the many forms of addiction.”
A burst of warmth rushed over Camila at his words. Their relationship hadn’t lasted, but at least something good was coming out of it. Perhaps she wasn’t meant to be with James at all. It seemed more likely that their relationship was strictly meant to help James discover this new platform.
She nodded as that thought settled into an almost comfortable place. It hurt, yes. But it wasn’t all for naught.
James answered more questions about the organization and how people could get involved. He was partnering with another program as well—one dedicated to helping family members and loved ones of addicts.
Camila needed to finish up her prep, she knew that much. But she also knew she’d given herself a whole lot of extra time. More than she needed by far. So she stayed in place, body shifting from rigid to lax, soaking up the moments of seeing him on screen, live. She’d spent the last dozen days wondering what James was doing in a given moment. But right now, she knew. She was seeing him in real time. He was doing something wonderful for a good cause, and he’d recognized her part in inspiring him.
“We’re going to take one more short break,” Samantha announced as the camera moved back on her, “but then we’re going to shift gears. There’s been a lot of talk about James Benton’s love life in recent tabloids. The only trouble is, none of that talk has come from the source himself. Join us after this brief message to see if we can finally get the answers we’re looking for.”
Camila rushed back to the watermelon and took hold of the knife. Operating on autopilot, she sawed through the melon, creating one quarter-inch slice after the next.
What in heavens name was happening right now? James was on a live TV show and he was just about to get grilled about his love life. More specifically, his love life withher.
Panic prickled through her from the inside out. Dozens of hot, tiny pokes growing greater in number and bigger in size. She set down the knife and rinsed her hands, willing the warmth of the water to soothe her anxious nerves.
It was possible he’d make a laughing stock of her, the way Adel had. But Camila felt confident that he wouldn’t. James might not be able to trust her, but he would never cause her harm. So what on earth would he say?
She felt a panic attack coming on. The racing heart, rapid breaths, and the tips of her fingers going tingly and numb. She clenched her eyes shut, summoned some strength from the heavens above, and forced her breathing to slow. A quick glance at the clock said that she still had plenty of time to spare.
Good, considering that her energy was seized by the simple act of breathing in the moment.
“Welcome back,” Samantha cheered as the show came back on at last. “On The Lion’s Den, he’s described as the lady’s favorite, but does James Benton already have a lady? And—surprise—it might not be the lady you thought.” The host turned to face James as the camera panned out to show them both.
“Many of us assumed—due to a stream of public appearances—that you and supermodel Adel Bordeaux were an item, but that’s not the case, is it?”
James shook his head. “No.”
“And recently, you were spotted on Myrtle Beach with whom some say was your private chef on the resort.” Samantha reached out to touch his arm. “Are you willing to confirm or deny whether that’s the case?”
James nodded. “Yes, I can confirm that she was, in fact, my private chef at the resort.”
The audience let out oohs and ahs. A catcall rang out over the reaction.
“And will this relationship continue here in LA?”
