Chapter 23 Work Work Work
Work work work
Lately, it’s felt like I’m juggling too much and starting to drop the ball. I need to cut back. The business is earning enough now, so I’m planning to start interviews soon to bring on more help. It’s time to spend less time on the tools.
I ease the front door open, trying not to wake anyone. Gizmo meows when I step inside, begging to be picked up. I’ve always thought of myself as a dog person, but this cat… I think I like her almost as much as I like her owner. Which is probably too much.
I drop my keys and wallet onto the entryway table and scoop Gizmo into my arms, and that’s when I notice that someone’s still up. Music floats in from the kitchen, and the scent of something sweet hits me. Suddenly, I remember how hungry I am.
Camille is in the kitchen, barefoot and dancing to “Pink Pony Club” by Chappell Roan.
She’s wearing a cropped PJ singlet and tiny shorts, stirring something in a bowl and completely unaware of me.
She’s hot and adorable at the same time.
She’s an enigma. Her music taste is all over the place—country one day, pop or acoustic the next… sometimes even screamo.
“Hey, what you makin’ over there?”
She jumps a little, then laughs, dipping her finger into the bowl and licking it.
“Brownies. I was craving them. I made seared chicken and veggies for dinner. It’s in the fridge, help yourself. But I’m not sharing the brownies,” she teases, grinning.
I laugh. “Fair enough. They’re all yours. But I’ll definitely take that dinner, I’m starving.”
I heat up a plate, the scent making my stomach growl.
“How was your day?” she asks.
“Rough. Trying to do everything is wearing me down. But I’m home now, and I just want to switch off for a while. Sorry I’m a bit of a downer tonight.” I pause. “What about you? How was yours?”
She brightens. “Actually, it was good. My boss hired a new girl, Sarah. It was nice to have someone around who actually wanted to talk to me. The others are… kind of bitches, honestly. I’ve tried everything with them, but they just don’t like me. I just know it’s going to be different with Sarah.”
“That sucks they’re like that to you. I’m glad you’ve got someone new who seems decent. Also, feel free to have friends over whenever you like. Just a heads-up, Tyler will probably try and crack onto them,” I chuckle.
She laughs. “If it’s Danielle, she can handle herself. She wants to catch up soon. I might tell her she’s welcome here.”
“Sounds great,” I stop mid-bite. “This is delicious, by the way. Thanks, Cam.”
She blushes. “You’re welcome.” Then she glances at the oven. “I’m gonna go put Netflix on in the lounge room while the brownies bake. That okay?”
“You don’t need to ask. Make yourself at home. I’ll join you soon, whatever you put on is fine.”
I watch her walk away, not even trying to stop my eyes from drifting down to those legs and that ass in those tiny shorts. Damn.
While I eat, I look through the sketch book that Camille left on the table. She said she loved drawing.
She’s good. Like, really good.
Each page is alive with detail, filled with beautiful, realistic sketches of people.
Some are done in pencil, the lines so precise they look like they could step off the page.
Others are softened with gentle watercolour.
Flowers bloom across a few pages, trailing vines curling around butterflies caught mid-flight.
There’s a softness to her art, like she sees the world a little more gently than most.
My fingers pause when I spot a familiar jawline, a curve of a smile I’ve seen in the mirror. It’s me. She drew me.
I hesitate. It feels… personal, like I’ve opened something I wasn’t meant to. I close the sketchbook carefully and set it back where I found it, my heart beating just a little faster than before.
I hear the timer go off.
“Your brownies are done, want me to bring them out?” I call.
“Yes, please!” she calls back.
I pull the tray from the oven, plate a few pieces, and head to the lounge room. Gizmo follows behind me.
Camille is curled up on the couch, The Vampire Diaries playing on the screen.
I sit down next to her.
“Thanks,” she takes the plate. “Sorry, it’s my comfort show. I can change it if you want.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll sit with you for a bit, then I’ve gotta crash soon. I’ve actually watched it with my younger sister.” I pat Gizmo, who’s purring on my lap.
“Really? How old is she?”
“Nicole. She’s twenty-five. Baby of the family.”
“She’s my age! Well, I’ll be twenty-five this year,” she says with a laugh, handing me a brownie. “You can have one. I can share with you.”
“Thanks.” I take a bite and close my eyes. “These are so good.”
“I know, right? It was my mum’s recipe. She left me her cookbook, but I’ve memorized it by heart.”
“Then your mum is an amazing cook.”
“She was,” she pauses, running her index finger slowly along the small butterfly tattoo on her ankle. “She… she died, actually.”
I pause, not wanting to push her. “I’m sorry, Cam. What happened? You don’t have to talk about it.”
“It’s okay.” Her eyes stay down, still focusing on her tattoo. “I love talking about her.” Her brows crease, like she’s being pulled back in her memories.
“It was a long time ago… She died from breast cancer. I was ten. She wasn’t even sick, well not from what I can remember.
Then suddenly, she was just… gone. My dad wasn’t really in our lives.
He was—I mean—he is in the army. He left so he could take care of me when she got sick.
He reenlisted when I was older. It was a really hard time, but we got through it. I still miss her every day.”
She doesn’t cry, but her voice is thick with emotion. This wound is old—scarred—but not fully healed. It pulls at my heart strings. Loss is something I can relate to.
I move closer, resting a hand gently on her shoulder.
“I’m really sorry Cam. That must’ve been so hard.
You were just a kid.” I pause, I don’t want to take anything away from her experience.
But hearing her speak about her mum makes me think of my dad.
“When my dad died, I was older. We knew it was coming. It still wasn’t easy, but at least we had time.
Some days I smile at a photo of him. Other days, it hits like it just happened. ”
She nods. “I agree. Sometimes I feel like I’m fine, the memories of her make me so happy.
Then I think about how much I miss her—and it’s like there’s a weight on my chest, like I can’t breathe.
” She puts her hand to her chest like she’s in pain.
“And the only person who ever made me feel okay… is gone.” She lets out an anguished breath.
“But the hardest part isn’t just missing her, it’s the future she won’t be part of.
When I get married. When I have kids. She won’t be there for any of it.
Not really. I’ll carry her with me, but I’ll always mourn what we were supposed to have. ”
Tears stream down her cheeks. I reach up and gently wipe them away. She looks at me.
I don’t say anything. I understand exactly what she means. All the things I wish Dad could still be around to see. It breaks my heart.
“I’m really sorry about your dad too. When did you lose him?”
My chest feels heavy talking about it, but there’s something about Cam that makes me feel safe talking about the hard things…
“Two years ago. Lung cancer. He quit smoking when we were kids, but it still got him. He was sick for a long time. Honestly, it was a relief for him—to finally rest. But I miss him every day. I wonder if it gets easier… but after what you said, maybe it doesn’t.”
“It doesn’t,” she says quietly. “But you learn to live with it.”
“Tell me about her.”
“Her name was Ava. Honestly?” Her voice is quiet.
“I’m so scared of forgetting her sometimes.
We didn’t have many photos together, because it was just us most of my early life.
But I remember her laugh. Her glow. She was like an angel.
” She lets out a small laugh as she wipes a tear.
“I actually look a lot like her. When I see myself in the mirror, I see her. She was kind, funny, patient. She loved to teach, cook and draw. She was a teacher at my school growing up. She was my best friend. She is irreplaceable.”
She smiles through her tears and takes my hands.
“Tell me about your dad.”
I open my mouth to speak, but—
“Ahem.” Tyler clears his throat as he walks in. We drop each other’s hands quickly. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Not waiting for an answer as he drops onto the couch between us and grabs a brownie. He takes a bite. “Damn, these are good. Did you make them?”
Camille stares at him for a beat, then laughs. “Yep. Help yourself. Just save me a few, okay? I’m heading to bed.”
She gives me a knowing look. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” I echo, watching her walk away.
Once we hear her door close, Tyler nods at the TV. “What the hell are we watching?”
I pass him the remote. “Vampire Diaries. You can change it. I’m going to bed.”
He smirks. “Alright, mate. But what was going on with you and Cammie just now?”
“Nothing. We were talking.” I don’t want to share her story—it’s not mine to tell.
He raises a brow. “I’m not blind. I see it. You’re gonna fall for her. Fight it all you want, but I know it.”
“You’re probably right. But she just wants to be friends. I can do just friends,” I say, though it doesn’t feel true. “Also—give me those mate,” I take the plate. “She made them for herself. Don’t finish them.”
I bring the dish back to the kitchen and head to bed. After a cold shower, I collapse onto my mattress, exhaustion pulling me under fast.