Page 8 of Chasing Clouds

“Forget about this, Camille. Get some sleep. Tomorrow is a new day.” He pauses and his voice shifts to a definitive tone. “I’ll be waiting for you at the altar, and I expect you to be there.” With that parting note, he walks out, leaving her alone, and the last sliver of light disappears as the door clicks shut and the air in the room stills.

She doesn’t move, and neither do I. I think my shock about this situation almost equals hers.

What the hell is the matter with that guy? How can anyone be so impervious to reality and arrogant at the same time?

A choked sob echoes around the room, pierces my ears, and burns its way down to my toes. Camille’s hands fly to her mouth as she bends over, folding in on herself, and lets out a strangled moan. I know I need to make myself known. Not wanting to add to her humiliation, I step out from behind the curtain of the bay window.

“Well, can’t say I saw that coming.” I’m trying to remain calm, feeling like I’m approaching a wild animal.

She gasps and turns toward the sound of my voice.

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I cross the room and stop a few feet in front of her.

“Wh-Who are you?” she stammers, stepping back a few paces.

I can see her much more clearly now with the moonlight shining directly on her, but I doubt she can see me with the light hitting my back. There are tear tracks running down her face, and the muscles across my shoulders tighten as I silently seethe over her heartache.

“What are you doing in here?” she asks, voice shaky.

“I slipped in for a few minutes of quiet. For the record, I was in here first, and it really doesn’t matter who I am. What does matter, though, is whether or not you want me to kick that guy’s ass, because I absolutely will.”

She looks me over from head to toe, realizes I’m not joking, and then laughs. She laughs so hard emotion twists and turns into tears . . . more tears.

Oh, damn.

Approaching her slowly, I pull her into me. She tucks her arms between us and buries her face in my chest. I shouldn’t be touching her, much less holding her this close, but right this moment, I don’t care.

Sobs rack through her. As terrible as it is, all I can focus on is how she feels pressed up against me. I’m probably a foot taller than her and she’s less than half my size, but she’s warm and feels perfect. Taking a deep breath, I catch a whiff of how she smells, my eyes slipping shut. She’s been outside for who knows how many hours and she still smells sweet, clean, feminine.

“What do I do?” Her voice is small and unsure.

“I can’t answer that for you.”

“What would you do?” She pulls back a little and looks up at me. The moon has shifted, so I can no longer see the details of her face, and I’m certain she can’t see me at all.

“For me, I think it would be time to move on.”

“Move on,” she repeats, testing out the sound of the words. “But, what about my family?”

“That’s the thing about family, they’ll love you no matter what.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” She looks down and rests her forehead on my chest, her hands gripping the lapels of my suit jacket.

“Well, to me, that’s another reason all in itself to walk away. Maybe it’s time to find people who will.”

Sliding my hand down to her lower back, I squeeze her a little tighter, and she lets out a long, slow breath.

“How did I get here?” she asks, although I know she’s not asking me. She’s asking herself.

A clock chimes from somewhere in the room and she flinches then slowly backs away. I miss her instantly.

In what feels like slow motion, I watch as she pulls her shoulders back, tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, and stands a little taller. Moving into the role she so clearly knows how to play, she clasps her hands in front of her, and although I can’t see it, I know plastered on her face is some semblance of a fake smile.

“I’m sorry you had to witness this . . . me.”

“I’m not sorry, Camille.”

Her breath catches at the use of her name, and I can’t help myself as I lean forward, lightly grip her elbow, and lower my lips next to her ear.