He looks up at me, all beautifully coiffed hair and a gorgeous smile.
“We’re going to be late.” Though as the words leave my lips, I greedily grind against his hand.
“Then we better get started. Be my good fucking girl,” he demands, impaling me with one long finger. He drags it out like we have all the time in the world. “And scream my name when you come.”
After fixing my mascara, changing my underwear, and apologizing to the driver for being late, we pile into the waiting car.Tonight’s event will be held at Empire Elegance, a premier NYC venue located near Bryant Park.
Cam’s parents insisted on hiring a car for us, which was generous, I suppose. Though despite how luxurious it is, discomfort swamps me. Not only am I meeting his parents, but the fundraiser we’re attending is to benefit an organization spearheaded by his ex-girlfriend’s father. Hayden’s dad is a renowned cardiologist, and while the gala is typically held in February for American Heart Month, Dr. Draper ironically suffered a heart attack. He only recently recovered enough for such an undertaking.
I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so awkward, but Cam assures me that his ex-girlfriend is out of the country and will not be in attendance.
We’re snapping selfies in the back seat when a text notification appears at the top of my screen.
My mother.
Frank left me.
“Dammit,” I huff, dropping my chin to my chest.
“What’s wrong?”
With a sigh, I switch my phone to vibrate, then slip it into the pocket of my dress. “My mom. I think her boyfriend broke up with her. I’ll call her later.”
I’m much too anxious about meeting Cam’s parents to deal with her drama. She doesn’t know about him yet, and if I call her now, I’d have to explain. I’d rather save that conversation for when he isn’t within earshot.
The twenty-five-minute drive to the gala turns into nearly forty-five minutes due to traffic, and Cam tries his best to distract me with a friendly game of Never Have I Ever.
Turns out, he’s never eaten asparagus or been to Hawaii. He’s never owned a pet, either. The biggest revelation? He’s never had sex in the back of a car.
He wears a smug smile when I admit I’d never gone skinny-dipping before the nude beach, and for a second, I think he may kick me out of the car—or bend me over—when I reveal that I have, in fact, used someone else’s toothbrush without them knowing.
After showing our tickets at the door, we bypass the multilevel indoor spaces and head up to the rooftop terrace. It’s gorgeous, with its sweeping panoramic views of the Hudson River, Times Square, and Midtown Manhattan.
When Cam doesn’t immediately spot his parents, we make our way to the bar for cocktails. He orders two fingers of a Japanese whiskey, and I try a Cognac sparkler. The tart apple aftertaste is perfect for a warm summer evening.
I’m sipping my drink at a high-top table, eyeing the black-and-white checkered dance floor, when a middle-aged man and woman cut through the crowd and head straight for us.
“You must be Joey.” The woman crowds my personal space and grasps my hands. She’s petite, like Claire, and her hands are freezing. Her shoulder-length, salt-and-pepper hair is curled at the ends. Her kind eyes are more green than hazel, and her effervescent pink lipstick adds to her bubbly demeanor. She’s wearing a black strapless gown that hugs her small frame and a dazzling emerald statement necklace. I immediately love her style.
“Hi, Mrs. Connelly,” I reply in my best meet-the-parents voice, ignoring the buzzing sensation of my phone at my side.
Behind his wife, Cam’s dad stoically pats him on the back.
“Call me Stephanie,” she insists, still gripping my hands.
Only when Mr. Connelly steps up beside her does Stephanie release her hold on me.
“I’m Cliff. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Though his eyes are a piercing blue, he and his son share many similar features. If this is a glimpse into the future, then holy hell, sign me up now.
“Nice to meet you too.” The knots in my stomach loosen a little. His parents seem genuinely happy to meet me.
Stephanie inquires about the book I’m writing, and while I thoroughly despise that question, I grin through my response. She means well, and I appreciate her genuine interest.
Beside us, father and son have fallen into a civil conversation. After a few minutes, Cam squeezes my hand and subtly nods at the couple about his parents’ age who are approaching our table.
They embrace Cliff and Stephanie before taking turns hugging Cam like he’s their favorite person in the world. My insides tingle with a twinge of jealousy.
They don’t even acknowledge my existence until Stephanie offers an introduction. With a sort of motherly charm, she caresses the back of my arm, just over my tattoo.
