Then, without a word, she vanishes again.
Cami wraps her hands around her cup. “I just got back to the States a few nights ago.”
I study her for a beat. Young, smart, and beautiful is a dangerous combination I’ve no business being drawn to. “So Crystal Cove is…?”
“Temporary,” she says, her gaze briefly dropping from mine as she pours in cream. “I’m helping out a friend, and taking a minute to breathe before starting something new.”
Nodding, I let her words simmer, tempted to probe about that “something new” she referenced. Could it be a new boyfriend, a new job, a new life? Ugh. Why do I care?
Rather than poke my nose in her business, I settle on, “Sounds smart.”
Head tilted, she narrows her eyes playfully. “Or safe…”
“How about smartandsafe?” I sink back into the booth. “I mean, from what you’ve told me, it sounds like you’ve been at it nonstop since graduating high school. When’s the last time you got to take a pause? Like,reallypause?”
Her eyes flick to the ceiling as if it’s a cheat sheet to what should be an open-book test. “Not since my mom passed.”
The stillness between us thickens. There are no words that can touch that kind of loss.
“I’m sorry.” My eyes dip from hers for a beat. I know that feeling all too well—grief that carves itself into your bones and stays there.
Cami shakes her head, brows snapped together. “It was a long time ago. Two months before my eleventh birthday. Since then, I guess I’ve sort of buried myself in academics, mostly to keep my mind off losing Mom, which is why I graduated high school at sixteen. Overachieving became my ultimate coping mechanism. And before I apply all that overachieving highereducation into a new job in New York, it’s time for a breather first.”
I want to offer something consoling, something that doesn’t feel like tiptoeing across minefields. But then Cami shifts gears.
“What about you?” She takes a sip of coffee. “Are you in Crystal Cove on vacation?”
“Well, one could call this aworkingvacation.” I pause, my throat suddenly drier than desert sand. “Needed a break from the collapse of my marriage and the divorce that followed.”
Cami blinks. “Wait—you’re divorced?”
“Yep. Finalized a few weeks ago.” I glance out the window, then back at her. “Ten years of marriage, and she cheated with a twenty-something bartender she met at an event. I came home early from a meeting and, there they were, tangled up in our kitchen.”
“Oh, my goodness.” Cami rests a hand on mine for a beat, gentle in a way that takes the weight off. “That’s brutal. I’m so sorry you went through that.”
Her words are soothing but still scrape against a raw wound. I’ve told the story so many times now that it’s become mechanical—like I’m reciting someone else’s disaster. Only, voicing my ex’s betrayal out loud to Cami feels different. Heavier. Maybe because it seems like she actually gives a damn.
Jaw tight, I shift in my seat, eyes fixed on the slow curl of steam rising from my black coffee. What kind of man misses signs of his marriage imploding? Ten years, and I was blind to her slipping away. Until I walked in on them. Jenna bent over the counter like our marriage didn’t exist. That moment rewired me. Made me quieter. Colder. Like trust wasn’t broken, just misplaced from the start.
And now, here I am, about to eat breakfast at midnight with a woman who seems to see me in a way my ex never could.
My eyes float back to Cami’s. “I’m here for the summer while the ex clears out of the New York place. This house here is mine. Been in the family a long time. My grandparents left it to me about a decade ago. I spent summers here as a kid.”
“And here, I assumed your own kiddos and a cute golden retriever would be joining you for the summer. You give off that vibe.”
I laugh. “What kind of vibe is that?”
“I don’t know… You’ve got this grown-up energy. Responsible. Capable. Someone who remembers school-picture days and rotates tires on time.”
“Wow,” I say, half laughing. “That’s eerily accurate. But yeah. It’s just me. No kids. No dog.”
Cami lifts her coffee with a sly smile. “Well. Cheers to wrong assumptions.”
I tap my cup to hers, pausing to take her in. She’s not the type of woman you meet in passing and forget. “So, is it safe to assume you’re single?”
Leaning back slightly, she exhales. “I’ve been on a relationship detox for about a year. Let someone wreck me pretty good, and I’ve been recovering ever since.”
I nod slowly, letting her words marinate. How calmly she said it. No trace of bitterness. As though she’s done the work and can live with it. “Takes guts to call a time-out on your heart like that. Something to admire.”
