Page 54 of Chasing Clouds

“And you don’t eat enough.” I grin at her. “Besides, I have to. This body is my paycheck. If something happens to it, well, then I’m out.”

“I suppose. Have you thought about what you want to do after football?” She pulls a hair band from her pocket and whips her hair up into a knot on top of her head.

“No.” I shake my head, reaching over to tuck a few stray pieces behind her ear.

“Really?” Her eyebrows rise in surprise.

“Absolutely not. For me there is no other option at the moment. I can’t jinx it, can’t allow any other thought of an alternative to enter the picture. I have to keep my eyes on the prize, and that’s playing football. This is my job until it isn’t. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

“That sounds reasonable enough.” She smiles, understanding me. Bumping her hip against mine, she grasps my hand and we start walking.

“Where are we going?” I look at the houses that dot the shoreline. None of them are overly large, like you’d find on other beaches in other cities, and that makes me like this place immediately. Each house is different, unique, and I could see myself feeling comfortable living in any of them.

“Dinner.”

As if it knows, my stomach growls on cue.

“After I sent Ali my new number, she sent me back some suggestions for food and activities while we’re here. There’s a restaurant not too far away called The Beachside Cafe.”

“Sounds perfect.” Just like her hand in mine is perfect, too. Shifting my fingers, I lace mine between hers.

Walking up to the café, we see there’s a nice crowd inside and out. It seems a lot of people came out to watch the sunset and made their way here for some type of meal or snack.

A bell rings over the door as we enter, and behind the counter, an older woman’s face lights up with a welcoming smile.

“Come on in and grab a seat anywhere you like. I’ll be right over with menus.”

We pick a table near the window and Camille falls silent as she sits and stares out at the gulf. The sun is at least half an hour away from setting, but the sky is already turning pretty shades of orange and pink.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask her.

Her head turns and her eyes find mine. They’re clear, they look content, and they crinkle in the corners a little as a small smile makes its way across her face.

“How this feels like what a honeymoon should feel like,” she says softly, her cheeks getting slightly pink.

My heart thumps hard in my chest, and I can’t think of anything to say back to her. She blinks twice, her smile wavers a bit, and then she resumes looking out the window, whereas I can’t stop looking at her, can’t stop feeling an intensity toward her—about us—that I never imagined was possible. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent so much time with her recently, maybe it’s where we’ve now found ourselves, or maybe it’s just her—and that’s what concerns me the most. I’m not supposed to be falling for my fake wife.

“Evening, y’all,” the older woman says as she approaches our table. “I was wondering if you would drop in tonight or one day later in the week.”

I look her over from head to toe. She looks like an aunt everyone loves, but that doesn’t keep the red flags from rising right and left. “I’m sorry, what do you mean?” There’s a warning tone to my voice, and it only makes her smile bigger.

“You’re Reid and Camille, right? Ali and Drew’s friends.”

I glance at Camille, who is staring at the woman and answers for us. “We are.”

“Perfect! I’m so glad you’re here. I’m Ella. Drew called earlier to tell me you might stop by and to keep an eye out. I just love those kids. Those Hale boys own a piece of my heart, so anything you need while you’re visiting, I’m here for you both.”

She hands us a couple of menus, recites the daily specials, and walks off before I even have a chance to thank her. Camille is quiet as she reads the menu then puts it down.

“Do you want to talk about what happened this morning?” I ask.

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. “No. He caught me off guard, but that won’t happen again.” She looks back out the window and frowns, fingering the menu. “I know you probably don’t understand any of this, and I’m sorry, but I do plan on taking care of this situation, and soon. I needed the last couple of weeks to come to terms with how I’m going to handle my life now, what I’m going to do next. Don’t get me wrong—I’m really excited. It’s what I’ve secretly dreamed about, but it’s been such a sudden change in direction for me, and I’m trying to get my brain to catch up with my movements. Does that make sense?”

“It does, and don’t be sorry. Anything I can do to help you?” I ask, leaning forward and picking up her hand to play with her fingers.

“I think you’ve done enough already, don’t you?” Her voice is low, soft, but her eyes lock onto mine and I can’t look away.

“I can always do more.” I really mean that.