“Did someone take my name in vain?” a melodic voice called from behind Cameron.
He spun around to find Jo leaning against the door jam, decked out in the navy-blue jacket and white button-down that Emory’s party was wearing. Unlike Christopher, Jo wore it over a navy and gold kilt.
“Can you please help me?” Cameron asked, the plethora of emotions he was experiencing bleeding into his voice, making him sound perhaps just a touch desperate.
Jo immediately straightened up out of their slouch and rushed to Cameron’s side.
Okay, so maybe he sounded more than just atouchdesperate.
“Why are neither of you helping?” Jo asked. Their cool, executive tone, which would have made a boardroom full of executives snap to attention, only served to make Ronan and Shay snicker.
“Trust me, he doesn’t want our help,” Ronan said.
“I have helped! I helped him pick out his wedding night outfit, but when I started recommending some of the wilder looking lingerie on his favorite website, he said?—"
“Out!” Cameron shouted, interrupting Shay as he finally reached the end of his rope.
His octopus was bouncing up and down in a neurotic V shape, tilting slightly farther to each side with every bounce yet somehow never toppling over. What was that old TV ad? They wobble but won’t fall down?
Cameron was about ready to fall down.
He had single-handedly managed to ruin Emory’s proposal, so he absolutely refused to ruin their wedding.
He said as much to Jo as they slid into the chair next to Cameron, and Jo scoffed. “You did no such thing. From the way Em tells it, it served him right for trying to surprise someone with a history of not-so-great relationships.”
Well…that was true.
Emory had done his absolute best to plan a trip to Paris for them, including a private dinner and a show. Then, he was going to propose to Cameron under the Eiffel Tower, with the gorgeous ring he’d had custom-made to match Cameron’s favorite blue sweater.
The problems began when Cameron offered to help plan some of the trip, and Emory had grown cagey, saying he would rather plan it himself. For the next week, Emory excused himself frequently to answer phone calls and send messages, all the while hiding his phone from Cameron. When Cameron asked what he should bring, Emory went so far as to have Ronan come over to help him pack his bags.
This had, rather predictably, sent Cameron into a panic spiral with tingles not only on the back of his neck but all over his body. Emory had never discounted Cameron’s thoughts or opinions—that was a Thomas move that he’d used over and overto make Cameron feel stupid and like he couldn’t trust his own judgment. Cameron had worked long and hard to rebuild trust in himself, and in his mate…and he trusted that Emory was hiding something from him.
The night before they’d been set to leave, Emory had been visibly agitated as something had come up at work that had kept him from packing, and he now had to scramble around the house to pack while Cameron anxiously watched. Finally, after Emory declined his offer to help for a third time, Cameron broke down.
“Did I…do something wrong?” he’d asked through tears. “Why don’t you trust me to help with our first official vacation together?”
Emory had been shocked speechless, and Cameron’s octopus had catapulted them into bed, ducking under the covers and blankets with two tentacles already sprouting to wrap protectively around his chest.
Cameron hadn’t been able to see any of this—Emory would tell him about it later—but apparently, Emory had ripped apart his suitcase and followed Cameron into his den with the ring at the ready.
When he was finally able to coax Cameron to open his eyes, he saw the ring and burst into happy, overwhelmed, and somewhat embarrassed tears, apologizing profusely for ruining their whole trip.
“You didn’t ruin anything, my love,” Emory said, gently sliding the ring onto Cameron’s finger. “I should have known making the trip a surprise wouldn’t be fair to you. I just didn’t want you to worry about a thing, so I planned this whole trip and the proposal so you wouldn’t have to lift a finger. But, obviously, you’d want to have a say in our first trip together—I’m so sorry.”
They spent the rest of the night going over Emory’s itinerary, which had indeed been catered exactly to all of Cameron’s likesand needs, with nothing specifically for Emory. Cameron spent the next morning and the first half of their flight planning an excursion for them to one of the wineries he knew Emory loved, and in the end, it had been an absolutely perfect trip.
Except for the whole ruined proposal thing. While they’d been sitting underneath the Eiffel Tower, Cameron had offered to give the ring back so Emory could propose again, but instead, Emory had pulled out some wedding pamphlets he’d brought from home. They spent the rest of the gorgeous Parisian evening wrapped in each other's arms, beginning to plan their wedding.
Now, it was all coming to fruition, and they’d both put an equal and fair amount of work into the wedding. They’d accounted for family dynamics, cultural preferences, dietary restrictions, and travel limitations. Every hour had been meticulously planned and vetted by a wedding planner and their day-of coordinator, who was a friend of Shay’s. All Cameron had to do was show up, read his vows—because there was no way he was going to try and memorize them—and kiss his husband.
If only he could figure out this damn makeup.
Cameron bit his lip, smearing the lipstick he had only applied a few minutes before.
Jo cupped his face and gently coaxed his lip out from between his teeth. “Okay, darling, we’re going to nix the lipstick and go with a stain instead. And for eyeliner… How about we stick with something simple and save the theatrics for the next time we go clubbing?”
Cameron managed a soft laugh, remembering their first time going to a club together. Jo had promised to stick by Cameron’s side, but throughout the night, Jo had been pulled onto the dance floor by three women, five men, and two nonbinary folk. Cameron and Emory had a great time getting drunk and laughing at Jo’s attempts to return to their table, only to be waylaid each time by interested suitors.
