Page 19 of Chasing Clouds

I don’t know why he’s saying this. Vulnerable? That’s not even a word in my vocabulary. No one should ever be vulnerable, and it’s being strong and secure in my ways that has made me the man I am today. I don’t need anyone to take care of me; I take care of myself. Also, I wouldn’t say I distance myself. What I do is keep a pulse on reality so I can make the most informed decisions. That’s how I run my life on and off the field, and it makes me a great leader.

“Treat him right, because he deserves the world and then some.” Nate briefly drops his head then swallows to gain composure, and I can’t help but frown. Man, he’s sure making this sound and look real. “So, if you would, please raise your glasses. Here’s to Reid and Camille. Together, may you both find your way, fall in love every single day, and always listen to what your heart has to say—it’ll never steer you wrong.”

Everyone raises their glass and takes a sip.

“Now, go make me an uncle!”

Laughter erupts, but the lump in my throat is so large I can barely breathe.

Stepping off the stage, he walks to Camille first and gives her a kiss on the cheek. They don’t exchange any words, just smiling at each other with a warmth that comes from an established friendship, and I find I’m slightly jealous, which is just dumb. In front of me, he stands eye to eye, and I’m at a loss for words.

I’ll be the first person to admit I have a marriage phobia, but that’s not what this is. This is fake, a means to an end. Chivalry is not dead. I did it for her, so why does this moment with my brother in front of me, Camille holding my hand, tucked into my side with the stars above us suddenly feel so real?

“N-Nate,” I stammer.

“Not here.” He claps me on the shoulder. “It was good to see you. I’m glad you were able to make it.” He chuckles, glancing at Camille and back. “Make sure you tell Mom sooner rather than later. I don’t want to be there when you do.”

Mom. I haven’t even thought about her yet. He laughs at my expression, and Camille’s hand tightens around mine.

Looking down, I see tired lines are etched around her face. Her spark has faded, and I know it’s time to go. I let go of her hand and wrap my arm around her shoulders. She wraps hers around my waist.

“We’re gonna take off.” I clear my throat. “Thanks for the toast. It was unexpected, and it meant more than you know.” It’s true, although I’m still trying to sort through his words.

He wraps his arms around both of us, slaps me on the back, winks at Camille, and then walks away.

Today has been a long day.

Seeing our chance for escape, Camille and I walk quickly through the house and out the front door.

The car is still parked out front, and the driver jumps when he sees us.

“Should we say goodbye to your grandfather?” I glance at her to gauge her thoughts.

“No.” She shakes her head. “He’ll understand.”

We slip into the back, and the car pulls away very quietly. I wonder how long it will take them to realize she’s not even there anymore. Oh well. Good riddance. She’s better off with me, a complete stranger, than that horrible crowd.

“Reid.” Her voice is soft, but I hear her and look down. “Can we just drive around for a while?” she asks, leaning into me.

“Of course, princess.”

The driver nods to let us know he’s heard then rolls the windows down. Slipping off my jacket, I pull Camille onto my lap and wrap her up to keep the chill off her skin. She lets out a contented sigh as she curls into me, and we let the sound of the wind whipping through the car take over.

By the time we pull up to her house, she’s fast asleep, whereas I’m wide awake. The driver opens the car door then the front door as I carry her into the house. She’s so small and light in my arms.

At the top of the stairs there are several rooms, but only one has an open door. Inside the dark bedroom, I spot her wedding dress hanging up and know this is the right one. Everything about this space looks like her and doesn’t at the same time. The taste of the furniture looks high-end, as I would expect, but none of the pieces match. Each one is different in style and I assume color, even though I can’t tell with just the moonlight.

When I set her on her feet, she leans her weight against me as I pull the zipper on the back of her dress. It slides down easy enough and the dress slips to the floor. Even standing in only her underwear, this girl is class personified. She’s elegant, graceful, and comes from a pedigree I’ll never understand. Me, I’m from eight hundred square feet in the Bronx.

Shaking my head at the world of difference between us, I remove my dress shirt, pull off my T-shirt, and slip it over her head. She looks around the room, up at me, and then turns to climb into her bed, patting the spot next to her for me to follow. Of course I do, because when it comes to her, I can’t not. I watch as she takes off her shoes and they drop to the floor, and then she pulls the rubber band at the back of her head and all her hair comes tumbling down.

I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until I breathe in through my nose and the air fills my empty lungs. She shifts around, moving the covers. My T-shirt slides up, and my eyes cling to her long, toned, gorgeous legs. The vision of this girl is almost too much. I know I shouldn’t be here, but wild horses couldn’t drag me away. She slides under the covers and lets out a deep sigh as she drifts back to sleep.

Kicking off my shoes, I sink into my side of the bed and settle down next to her. As exhausted as I am and as much as I wish I could sleep, I can’t. Minutes tick by, turning into hours.

Sometime early in the morning, Camille stirs. Rolling to my side, I look down at her just as her eyes open and find mine. I don’t know what to say to her; I’m afraid she’ll ask me to leave, and I really don’t want to.

Shifting to face me too, she whispers, “I’m sorry.”