"Tara! I missed you so much!"
I bury my face in her hair, breathing in that sweet scent.
But over her head, I drink in Cameron—how his dark jeans hug his thighs, how his black T-shirt stretches across his shoulders.
Edison pushes his massive head under my palm, demanding attention.
"Thank you, that will be all," Cameron tells Luna, pulling out his worn leather wallet. He tucks some cash into her open palm, and she vanishes like smoke.
Zaza leans back, red lips curving into a wicked smile.
"Did that witch actually conjure you, or are you the real deal?" "
A little of both," he says.
We all laugh.
After Cameron engages in playful banter with my friends, the server appears.
"Champagne. A Shirley Temple for my daughter. And a water bowl for my dog."
Posey claps in delight at the mention of her new favorite faux cocktail, while Edison lets out an approving woof.
"Ladies, will you excuse us?" Cameron's tone is polite but commanding. "I need to speak with Tara privately."
My heart races.
"Keesha, can you watch Posey and Edison? Order her French fries—she's obsessed with them," I say.
As I follow Cameron across the restaurant, I’m hyperaware of his hand at the small of my back. His touch feels electric on my spine.
He produces that VIP keycard from his pocket—the bartender must have slipped it to him—and leads me through the secret door to the luxury hotel lobby next door.
We settle onto the same green velvet sofa where we first kissed, the memory crackling between us like live electricity.
"Why are you here?" My voice comes out breathier than intended. "Why didn't you call?"
Cameron's knee brushes mine as he turns to face me.
"Surprise visit. Had to meet with Sterling Records today. Didn't want you asking questions until everything was settled."
"So it's finished? What happened?"
"I'm signing with them for another year..."
My stomach drops. "Oh."
Cameron's selling out?After all that artistic angst he poured out to me in those vulnerable Nantucket moments?
"Happily, Sterling agreed to my terms."
His grin is pure triumph.
"I get complete creative control. I can write whatever I want. Best of both worlds."
Relief floods through me. "That's incredible!" I reach for him instinctively, pulling him into a hug that turns desperate the moment
I feel his solid warmth against me. His arms tighten around my waist. Suddenly we're not in Manhattan anymore. We’re back in that Nantucket storm, clinging to each other like lifelines.
