Chapter 5 #3
Emory blinked at him, the tilt of his lips turning curious but still not upset. “Oh? I–uh, think I may have gone quite a bit farther back than that in yours. You’ve been to some very impressive events, and I would love to ask you about your time in New Orleans with—“
“I know why you took over the company,” Cameron interrupted, his words spilling out in a rush.
“I…I saw the memorial post. I’m so sorry.
I swear, the second I saw it, I closed the app and haven’t looked at your profile since.
I know it’s a total invasion of privacy, and I’m sure you wanted to tell me on your own time, and I… I’m just really sorry, Emory.”
This time, Cameron tried to maintain eye contact. He reached down deep, hoping to find some inner strength to face the consequences of his snooping, but his octopus unhelpfully flopped onto his side. Their eyes held for all of two seconds before he hung his head.
Emory let out a soft sigh that flickered the candle in between them. “Cameron,” he murmured, but Cameron couldn’t bear to look up at him, so he kept staring at the gilded dinner plate.
“Cameron… please look at me,” Emory said again.
When Cameron continued to refuse, Emory used a single finger to tip his chin up. His smile was smaller than before, but a smile nonetheless.
“My alpha father’s passing is not a secret.
I’m actually rather surprised you didn’t find it merely by looking up the name of my company.
It’s common knowledge that my mother took over after his passing and then rapidly stepped down.
I never intended to hide it from you, but I suppose I did omit it that first day.
It didn’t feel like something I could put in a five-minute introduction to my fated mate.
Then, with the holidays, I would have loved to talk with you about how…
tough it gets around this time of year, but it felt wrong to do that over text. ”
Cameron bit his lip, the back of his neck still prickling like there was potential danger.
“Have you been carrying this around for the past two weeks? You should have said something. I would have cleared things up for you,” Emory said, running his thumb softly along Cameron’s jaw before pulling his hand back across the table.
Their other hands were still entwined, almost like they were meant to be that way.
It had Cameron feeling all kinds of ways.
Emory’s touch was a paradox, sending both fire and goosebumps racing across Cameron’s skin.
He still didn’t know which feelings he could trust, but the rightness that settled over him every time they touched was getting hard to ignore.
Touch had always been a bit of a contentious thing for him, first at his biological parents’ home, and then later with an unpredictable boyfriend. Emory seemed to be a touchy person, and while his octopus loved it, Cameron was still trying to parse through how he felt.
“I’m not great with confrontation,” Cameron mumbled.
Emory inclined his head, and Cameron tried to swallow around the lump forming in his throat. “I grew up around a lot of conflict—not my adopted parents!” he hurried to add as Emory’s eyes widened. “My adopted parents are wonderful. They’ve never once raised their voice or thrown anything–”
Emory’s eyes had grown huge, and Cameron mentally kicked himself. He looked helplessly towards his octopus, who just shrugged.
“My biological parents…were not good people,” Cameron said, idly staring at the fleur de lis pattern on Emory’s dress shirt.
Some part of his brain noted that Emory had been about to ask him about New Orleans, but the rest of his brain was too busy running around in circles trying to figure out how to get out of this conversation.
“Cameron, have I done something to make you feel unsafe?” Emory asked, slowly withdrawing his hand.
Every part of Cameron, including his octopus, panicked.
Emory’s grip was the one thing that felt right.
If he pulled his hand back, would Cameron ever get to hold it again?
Thomas had once withheld physical affection for two weeks when he didn’t like something Cameron had said.
He knew that Emory wasn’t Thomas, but that didn’t matter to his racing heart.
“No!” Cameron said, clutching at Emory’s hand, harder than he meant to. Emory flinched, and Cameron’s octopus flapped his tentacles around in panic.
“No,” Cameron said, much softer this time.
“You haven’t done anything wrong. I mean, we’ve basically only texted, and then you did all the work of picking out our first date, and you gave me your jacket, and held my hand, and ordered my wine, and I’m just here admitting to stalking you and then freaking out when you were… totally and completely understanding.”
Emory’s expression remained serious, but his lip quirked the slightest bit. “I like to think I’m a rather understanding person.”
Cameron nodded jerkily. He was making an utter mess of things. Was there any way to get things back on track?
His eyes strayed to a table across the aisle from them, where a couple was speaking in low tones to each other. Cameron wondered if they were fated mates as well, and if their first date had gone as catastrophically sideways as this one. Did they have as many doubts and fears as Cameron did?
He glanced at Emory, who appeared to be patiently waiting for him to respond. Everything from his relaxed jaw to the gentle slope of his shoulders telegraphed calm and understanding. Maybe there was still hope?
“You haven’t done anything to prove you aren’t understanding. I’m sorry. I really think my nerves have gotten the best of me. Could we…start over maybe?”
Emory blinked once and then gave a slow nod. “Where would you like to begin?”
Cameron tapped his thumb anxiously against Emory’s and received a gentle tap back.
“Well…I know about your friend Christopher, but there was another man in a lot of your photos?”
For the first time that night, it seemed like Cameron had said the right thing.
Emory’s smile returned, but at a lower wattage than before.
“That would be Ronan. Our families have known each other for decades. My father always assumed Ronan would join the company and work by my side, but Ronan is a bit of a free spirit.” He gave an affectionate chuckle, easing some of the remaining tension from the table.
“Instead, we hired Christopher, and he and I meshed at work in the same way I’ve always meshed with Ronan.
We rose through the ranks together and became just as close as Ronan and I have always been.
They eventually met through work events and family gatherings, and they meshed with each other as well. ”
All this talk of “meshing” had Cameron’s octopus tentacles twitching.
Before he could inquire further, their waiter arrived with food and a refill on their wine.
Cameron hadn’t drunk much of his, but he took a few absentminded gulps as a bowl of what he could only describe as mush was placed in front of him.
They both fanned out their napkins, and Cameron tried desperately to select the right utensil to use. He’d been to dozens of formal events, but for the life of him, he could never remember if it was outside in, inside out, or just a free-for-all based on vibes.
Emory politely cleared his throat and gestured to the middle fork, and Cameron snatched it up.
He wasn’t sure if the prickle along his neck was embarrassment from this or the fact that when he took a bite of his food, he found it was indeed the consistency of mush with next to no flavor.
He tried to school his expression, but Emory was watching him with concern.
So, naturally, he blurted out the first semi-coherent thought he, or really his octopus, could form.
“So, when you say meshed, do you mean, like, romantically?”
Emory’s fork, filled with a gorgeously marbled piece of steak, paused halfway to his mouth. “Do you mean me and Christopher? Me and Ronan? Or Christopher and Ronan?”
Cameron nodded and shoved another forkful of mush—seriously, what was this?
—into his mouth. This bite had a piece of shrimp in it, so at least there was that.
It was well-cooked, but couldn’t really save the overall dish.
Cameron’s nose twitched in distaste as he took a swig of wine to wash it down.
“Before I answer,” Emory said, lowering his fork to his plate and swiping it through the au jus sauce drizzled on the bottom of the dish, “would you like to try a bite?”
Cameron’s stomach growled. He hadn’t been able to eat lunch, too anxious about their date, but he didn’t want to make a fuss. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth instead of answering.
“It’s really quite good. And there’s so much of it, I’m never able to finish,” Emory hedged.
Cameron stared at the steak, and Emory’s cheeks slowly tinged pink as he held the fork awkwardly across the table.
As the blush crept under Emory’s beard, Cameron’s stubbornness gave way.
He placed his silverware on the side of his plate, bending forward so Emory could feed him a bite, which he did smoothly.
Cameron had never really enjoyed being fed.
Typically, if someone was trying to feed him, it was either his absentminded Pa, who often missed Cameron’s mouth, or it was his troublemaker sister, who would purposefully miss his mouth.
As he accepted the tender steak, however, warmth blossomed in his chest. It was delicious, and he had to stifle a groan as his teeth sank into the meat.
This was more like it. Actual sustenance.
“May I try yours?” Emory asked, lowering his fork to Cameron’s plate.
“Uh, yeah, sure. I’m not really sure what it is, to be honest.”
Emory took a piece of shrimp and some of the mush. “I believe it’s seafood risotto.” He ate his bite with little fanfare. “My mother makes something similar. I’m quite a fan of it, actually.”