“Cameron, honey, it’s okay,” Emory said. Surprisingly, it almost sounded like there was a smile in his voice.
Cameron finally looked at him, and sure enough, he was smiling that broad grin of his. “My friends said the same to me. They all but put the phone in my hand to check your social media. I even accepted a friend request from Shay.”
Cameron surprised himself by letting out a soft growl, or as close to a growl as he could achieve. “I thought I told her to delete that.”
Emory chuckled, easing some of the tension that had built between Cameron’s shoulder blades. “I did receive a request, which then disappeared, and reappeared a few hours later.”
Cameron lowered his head into his hands again, but this time he was feeling almost buoyant with relief. It was short-lived, though, because he knew he had to bring up the other thing he had learned, or risk having Emory think he’d hidden it from him.
A flash of memory—raised voices and slamming doors—stopped him. Hecouldhide it. Now that he’d admitted to one of his mistakes, he didn’t necessarily have to own up to the rest. Emory was smiling; why should he risk anger and possible retribution? Another flash of a bottle hitting a wall and a slurred curse almost solidified his decision until he felt warm fingers on his again.
This time, when Emory removed Cameron’s hand from his face, he threaded their fingers together in the middle of the table. The look in his eye was so unlike anything Cameron had seen during those tumultuous few years with his biological parents. Warmth and understanding had turned the chocolate brown, almost molten.
“There’s something else,” Cameron whispered before he lost his nerve. “I only went as far back as last summer, but…” Cameron trailed off, hoping maybe Emory would get the reference.
Emory blinked at him, the tilt of his lips turning curious but still not upset. “Oh? I–uh, think I may have gone quite abit farther back than that in yours. You’ve been to some very impressive events, and I would love to ask you about your time in New Orleans with?—“
“I know why you took over the company,” Cameron interrupted, his words spilling out in a rush. “I…I saw the memorial post. I’m so sorry. I swear, the second I saw it, I closed the app and haven’t looked at your profile since. I know it’s a total invasion of privacy, and I’m sure you wanted to tell me on your own time, and I… I’m just really sorry, Emory.”
This time, Cameron tried to maintain eye contact. He reached down deep, hoping to find some inner strength to face the consequences of his snooping, but his octopus unhelpfully flopped onto his side. Their eyes held for all of two seconds before he hung his head.
Emory let out a soft sigh that flickered the candle in between them. “Cameron,” he murmured, but Cameron couldn’t bear to look up at him, so he kept staring at the gilded dinner plate.
“Cameron… please look at me,” Emory said again.
When Cameron continued to refuse, Emory used a single finger to tip his chin up. His smile was smaller than before, but a smile nonetheless.
“My alpha father’s passing is not a secret. I’m actually rather surprised you didn’t find it merely by looking up the name of my company. It’s common knowledge that my mother took over after his passing and then rapidly stepped down. I never intended to hide it from you, but I suppose I did omit it that first day. It didn’t feel like something I could put in a five-minute introduction to my fated mate. Then, with the holidays, I would have loved to talk with you about how…tough it gets around this time of year, but it felt wrong to do that over text.”
Cameron bit his lip, the back of his neck still prickling like there was potential danger.
“Have you been carrying this around for the past two weeks? You should have said something. I would have cleared things up for you,” Emory said, running his thumb softly along Cameron’s jaw before pulling his hand back across the table.
Their other hands were still entwined, almost like they were meant to be that way. It had Cameron feeling all kinds of ways. Emory’s touch was a paradox, sending both fire and goosebumps racing across Cameron’s skin. He still didn’t know which feelings he could trust, but the rightness that settled over him every time they touched was getting hard to ignore.
Touch had always been a bit of a contentious thing for him, first at his biological parents’ home, and then later with an unpredictable boyfriend. Emory seemed to be a touchy person, and while his octopus loved it, Cameron was still trying to parse through how he felt.
“I’m not great with confrontation,” Cameron mumbled.
Emory inclined his head, and Cameron tried to swallow around the lump forming in his throat. “I grew up around a lot of conflict—not my adopted parents!” he hurried to add as Emory’s eyes widened. “My adopted parents are wonderful. They’ve never once raised their voice or thrown anything–”
Emory’s eyes had grown huge, and Cameron mentally kicked himself. He looked helplessly towards his octopus, who just shrugged.
“My biological parents…were not good people,” Cameron said, idly staring at the fleur de lis pattern on Emory’s dress shirt. Some part of his brain noted that Emory had been about to ask him about New Orleans, but the rest of his brain was too busy running around in circles trying to figure out how to get out of this conversation.
“Cameron, have I done something to make you feel unsafe?” Emory asked, slowly withdrawing his hand.
Every part of Cameron, including his octopus, panicked. Emory’s grip was the one thing that felt right. If he pulled his hand back, would Cameron ever get to hold it again? Thomas had once withheld physical affection for two weeks when he didn’t like something Cameron had said. Heknewthat Emory wasn’t Thomas, but that didn’t matter to his racing heart.
“No!” Cameron said, clutching at Emory’s hand, harder than he meant to. Emory flinched, and Cameron’s octopus flapped his tentacles around in panic.
“No,” Cameron said, much softer this time. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I mean, we’ve basically only texted, and then you did all the work of picking out our first date, and you gave me your jacket, and held my hand, and ordered my wine, and I’m just here admitting to stalking you and then freaking out when you were…totally and completely understanding.”
Emory’s expression remained serious, but his lip quirked the slightest bit. “I like to think I’m a rather understanding person.”
Cameron nodded jerkily. He was making an utter mess of things. Was there any way to get things back on track?
His eyes strayed to a table across the aisle from them, where a couple was speaking in low tones to each other. Cameron wondered if they were fated mates as well, and if their first date had gone as catastrophically sideways as this one. Did they have as many doubts and fears as Cameron did?
