Chapter 3
3
Cameron
“If we don’t leave now, we’ll be late,” Hayden calls from the bathroom.
I’m the one waiting by the front door of my penthouse, but she’s the one who’s stressed about being late to dinner with her parents. Penthouse makes it seem glamorous and pretentious, but really, it’s a modest three-bedroom apartment on the top level of my parents’ hotel.
Hayden doesn’t live with me, though by the looks of the place, one would think she’s been living here for years. For months, she left so many of her things behind that I offered her ownership of the guest bathroom, where I wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally mixing up her ten-step skincare routine.
Sometimes it’s awkward living in a hotel, and other times, it’s amazing. The unlimited access to room service is a nice perk, as is the nonexistent cost of rent. But working and living in the same building got old fast. My family has owned Hotel Connelly for three generations. The East Coast is sprinkled with dozens of our hotels, and we even have a few in California. We’ve been considering expanding to other countries in the near future as well. For the past several years, I’ve worked as the chief sales and marketing officer from the hotel’s original location in Port Washington on Long Island, New York. Thankfully, my parents moved out of the hotel and into their own home. Only that house is also in Port Washington, but at least I no longer discover my mom sitting in my living room.
While being born into the family has come with a great deal of benefits, I’ve never ridden on my father’s coattails. On my own merit, I earned a degree in hospitality management, with a minor in business. Though I would not have chosen to go into hospitality, it has been expected of me since the day I was born. When I was eighteen, my dad and I found ourselves engaged in a screaming match over my future, which sent my mom into a panic attack so severe she ended up in the hospital.
After that, my dad and I compromised. I’d go to college in preparation to take over the family business as long as I could choose the college. He wanted me to stay in the Northeast and attend an Ivy League, but I picked Florida. If I was being forced into the family business, I’d take advantage of the time away from my father. So I basked in the sun, surrounded by girls in bikinis. Best four years of my life.
Now, at age thirty, I’ve been back on Long Island for several years, and I’m dating my mother’s friend’s daughter. She and I attended different schools growing up, but would see each other sporadically at social gatherings. In our teens, we bonded a little, poking fun at the country club elitists we were forced to spend time with, but we fell out of touch after that. By the time I graduated from college and moved to Port Washington, she was working and living in DC with a boyfriend.
It wasn’t until nearly a year ago, when she moved back, newly single, that our parents reconnected us.
“Remember Hayden?” my mother said in the limo on the drive into the city for a fundraiser .
“Draper?”
“Yes. Her mother said she had a nasty breakup with that boy in DC.”
Where was she going with this?
Pulling her gaze from the window, she clicked her tongue. “She’ll be at the fundraiser tonight. I hear she’s looking forward to seeing you.”
“She comes from a good family, you know,” my dad added.
“I know.” I knew all about the Drapers’ status and reputation.
It was obvious what my parents were doing. I had just ended a casual relationship, and I’d allowed my parents to dress me like a Ken doll in a tux and drag me like a child to be pawed at by a bunch of stuffy rich folks. While I love a good philanthropic event, I despise the people I’m forced to interact with at each and every one. If they don’t have their noses stuck halfway up my ass, asking questions about money, they’re trying to set me up with their daughters, nieces, or granddaughters. As of that night, I could add my parents to the list of people trying to play matchmaker.
Upon arriving at the gala, I made a beeline for the bar. Before I’d even ordered a drink, I realized it was a mistake. As I waved for the bartender, I caught sight of Hayden, who was conveniently perched only a few feet away.
“Ah, perfect timing,” my mother said as she sidled up beside me.
“Hayden, darling, you look wonderful.” My father kissed her cheek. “It’s so good to see you.”
Her crisp blond hair was nestled at her shoulders. It was shorter than I remembered and complemented her face, letting her aquamarine eyes take center stage. Her lashes were long, likely fake for the event, but the rest of her makeup was subtle. My attention was drawn to curves I’d never noticed in any of our previous interactions. With our moms being as close as they are, I had never thought about Hayden as more than a friend; I figured she was off-limits anyway. My mom would have murdered me if I’d pursued her in high school. Her dad no doubt would have too.
But she was beautiful. Her floor-length emerald gown hugged her hips and exposed a strip of skin with a high but tasteful slit up one side. The cut of the neckline highlighted her cleavage, and if my mom hadn’t been standing next to me, I might have needed to adjust myself in my dress pants.
No sooner had reintroductions been made than Dr. and Mrs. Draper appeared beside us, goofily shaking hands with my parents and exchanging kisses on cheeks.
“Oh, I see the kids have gotten together,” Mrs. Draper drawled, the olives in her martini nearly sloshing over the side.
“Let’s leave them to it, Flo,” Dr. Draper remarked, plucking the drink from her hand. “Cliff, Stephanie, let’s arrange a lunch at the club this week. You too, son.” He nodded at me. With a shake of my hand, he escorted his tipsy wife toward the silent auction table.
My parents smiled at me, then at Hayden, before excusing themselves as well.
“Did you get dragged here too?” she asked.
Two days later, although I’d secretly hoped he would forget, I found myself having lunch with Dr. Draper, as well as Flo, Hayden, and both my parents. It was immediately clear why Hayden and I had been invited.
“Did you forget about your inheritance?” my father whispered at the table so only I could hear.
No, I had not. But truth be told, I’d hoped my parents had. Or at least were not going to follow through with the stipulations: To be wed by thirty-two.
My dad was set to retire in the next few years and had it in his thick skull that in order to inherit his title of chief executive officer, I would need to be married. Why my father believes I can’t be a bachelor and run a company, I will never understand. He likes to spew words like “optics” and “standards” and “reputation.”
Hayden, who sat across from me, had a willful look caked on her delicate face. Her eyes said We have no choice. It could be worse. While no one spoke the words aloud, what we were served during that meal—alongside overpriced lobster—was a modern-day arranged marriage.
I wasn’t about to make a scene in the middle of the dining room, but I excused myself to the restroom. Rather than go into the men’s room, I dropped into a winged-back leather chair in the lounge just outside the restrooms and hunched forward, knees on my elbows and hands through my hair.
That’s where Hayden found me. She knelt beside me, adjusting the pearls around her neck. “Hey,” she said. Her voice was barely above a whisper, though no one else was in the lounge.
“Hey.” Heaving a breath, I sat back in my chair.
“Are you surprised?”
I shrugged. “I suppose not.”
Her Rolex sparkled on her pale wrist when she placed her hand on my forearm.
Unspoken words passed between us. Life with Hayden would mean a life of security. It wasn’t a death sentence. I liked her parents well enough. It wasn’t the life I’d choose for myself, but what choice did I have?
And now that we’ve been together for nearly a year, we’ve found our rhythm. For the most part, life with her has been easy. Before her, I never once stopped to imagine what my future wife would be like. While I wonder whether there should be more passion in our relationship, I know it’s the right thing to do for my family. Taking over as CEO is important to my parents, and I don’t want to let them down.
After another fifteen minutes, Hayden finally finishes up in the bathroom, and we’re out the door. Even though her parents stay in an apartment in the city the majority of the time, they’ve kept their house on Long Island—about a twenty-minute drive from us.
“You need a haircut,” she says, but she’s looking down at her phone.
“ Okay …” I swipe my fingers through my hair and steal a glance in the rearview mirror before turning my focus back to the road. The top is getting a little long, but I keep the sides trimmed. I even styled it with the stupidly expensive pomade Hayden bought me, and I think it looks nice.
When we drive between the twin stone lions and pull onto the U-shaped drive, Hayden’s mom is waiting for us. With one heeled foot still on a marble step, she pulls me in for a hug.
“Hello, Mrs. Draper.” I squeeze back.
“Oh, Cameron, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Flo?”
Over Flo’s shoulder, Hayden’s dad is watching the exchange. His expression says Don’t you dare call me anything other than Dr. Draper .
He offers me a friendly slap on the back when it’s his turn to greet me, like he didn’t just threaten me with his bushy brows. “Cameron, good to see you. How’s the hotel?”
“Just fine, sir.” I grin, despite how much I hate this question. I prefer not to talk about work when I’m off the clock. “How are the hearts of New York?”
Howard Draper is New York City’s most infamous cardiologist. People travel from all over the world for his expertise. “Beating, thanks to me.” He laughs at his own joke, and I feign a smile .
We take our seats around the dining table, and Maria, the Draper’s longtime housekeeper, pours water into crystal glasses.
“Flo, how is the home and garden society?”
“Oh, it’s just lovely. I keep trying to get your mother to join, but she says she’s too busy these days.” Flo waves a hand through the air.
“Did you make this?” I nod toward the giant floral centerpiece on the table, though I already know the answer. The gold vase towers over our wine glasses, and mini blue-and-white Greek flags play peek-a-boo among an abundance of white roses, peonies, blue hydrangeas, and olive branches.
“Yes, thank you for noticing.” Flo side-eyes her husband. “I went with a Greek theme in honor of your holiday next week.”
I restrain an eye roll when Flo uses holiday instead of vacation , like that’s going to make me forget she’s from the boondocks of Georgia.
“Very thoughtful of you.”
“I hear the Poseidon ship is truly something. Are you excited?” Flo asks her daughter while sending me a knowing look.
A few months ago, when Hayden and I booked a cruise to the Greek Isles, I met Dr. and Mrs. Draper for lunch at their country club to ask for their daughter’s hand in marriage. It’s an arbitrary tradition, especially since this whole thing has been arranged, but our parents would be furious if I didn’t follow through with formalities.
“Yes, Mother,” she sighs, fumbling with her napkin.
Hayden’s been looking forward to this trip nearly as much as I have until recently. When I asked her about why she’s been a little off lately, she chalked it up to work stress.
She’s an event coordinator in New York City and caters mostly to celebrities. She commutes from Long Island during the week, but her most recent client, an extra anxious bride, has demanded all her time. So she’s been staying at her parents’ apartment in Manhattan to make up for the extra hours she’s putting in.
She and I both need this vacation. Lately, we’ve become complacent. Yes, we were forced into this relationship at first, but I do enjoy her company, and I think the feeling is mutual.
While our politics don’t always line up, we get along well. We binge the same shows late at night and enjoy listening to the same music. Our friendship circles don’t overlap, though, which is tricky when making plans. I like that she’s ambitious at work and cares for her family. But I don’t feel that fire with Hayden. She’s pretty, and while the sex is good, we haven’t had much of it lately, and I can’t help but feel like we’re missing an important connection.
In any case, Hayden’s bridezilla got married yesterday, just in time to allow her to relax and unwind in Greece with me. And just in time for her to turn around and plan her own wedding.