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RACHEL
You can tell a lot about a man by how he keeps his car and his home. I once dated a man who left a pile of dirty laundry in the bathroom and the laundry room. When he got low on clothes, he’d cram random things in the wash and then pull things out of the dryer to wear. He got dressed in the laundry room almost every day. Another first date ended abruptly when I realized that the man kept his chewing tobacco spit in his home in plastic bottles. Another ended when the thirty-two-year-old man brought me to his townhome and his mother emerged from the kitchen and scolded us for being too loud.
Cam’s Rubicon was spotless, so it was a fifty-fifty chance that his home was as well. I knew where his mother lived, and he had perfect white teeth so I was fairly confident that he didn’t chew tobacco. My fingers were still crossed when we pulled up to his house on East Mighty Saguaro. I eased the Jeep into the barren garage and jumped out so I could help him to the door.
“Thank you for driving. I can pay for your Uber or you can take my car. I’ll come get it tomorrow. I’m clearly not going anywhere for a while.”
“Just get inside.”
“I don’t need any more help tonight.” He peeled himself off my shoulders and leaned next to the doorway into the house. “Thank you, I’m good.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Do you have Pedialyte, bone broth, rice, and/or saltines?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Then let’s get you settled. I’m going to go get those things and I’ll be right back.”
“Listen, I’m completely mortified. I don’t want to go through this in front of you.”
“Hey, you saw me in my llama pajamas after I had been crying all night, so let’s call it even.”
“This is not even … wait … you were crying?”
“Any alarms?”
“Never arm the house. Nothing to steal.”
“All righty.” I opened the door from the garage into the house, and there it was: the cleanest house I had ever seen a man living in. But it was also one of the emptiest. He had modern furniture, but nothing extra, no décor, and nothing that would make it feel like a cozy home. It seemed like a home for sale staged with only the bare minimum of furniture.
Cam brushed past me and slammed a bedroom door. I felt so bad for him as the very same shrimp had attacked me previously, although there had been no one to help hold my hair back that night. I left a note on the counter saying that he should take a shower and that I’d be back with supplies. If he left the bedroom door open, that would tell me it was safe to come in.
Normally, I would have taken my time running to the store and would have called Emily and Laura to fill them in, but I didn’t want to delay. Something else churned inside me—a deep desire to help Cam and take care of him. I had not felt that compulsion for a long time. I got all the necessary supplies for surviving a bad shrimp attack and was back at Cam’s in thirty minutes.
“I’m back,” I called through the house.
A faint groan answered me when I plopped my supplies down on the kitchen island’s white quartz countertop. I poured him a glass of Pedialyte and headed toward the bedroom.
The master bedroom was also sparse with only a simple king-size bed, a dresser, and a window seat. Cam lay face down on the bed wearing only the dark boxer briefs.
Relax Rachel, the man has thrown up multiple times. He can’t possibly still be turning you on right now.
Except that he was.
“Hey,” I said in a soft voice.
His back muscles flexed as he pushed himself up and turned over. When he leaned back on some pillows, I took a seat on the side of the bed. His hair was wet and messy, and I tried not to gasp when he reached for thick-rimmed glasses off the nightstand.
“You wear glasses too?” I asked.
The corner of his mouth turned up as he nodded. “And now you know my darkest secret.”
“That’s your darkest secret?”
“Second darkest.”
“And the first?”
“I actually don’t know how to tell you this.” He scratched his neck, his voice low and gravelly. “It’s really difficult to talk about.”
I thought I was going to fall right off the bed. “What?” I reached out and touched his arm, hoping he had the courage to tell me.
He took another long pause. “I hate Brussels sprouts.”
“Jerk.” I swatted him on the shoulder and handed him a glass. “Drink this.”
“Isn’t it for kids?” he said, cringing after taking a gulp.
“Yes, and super sick adult men.”
He managed to laugh and finish the rest of it.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, setting the class down on the nightstand.
“I think I’m through the worst of it,” he said, bringing his hand to his forehead.
I stood and touched his forehead. “You’re burning up.”
“I’m fine. You don’t have to stay with me.”
I slowly lowered my hand. “Do you really want me to leave?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Good. I’m going to freeze a cold pack, but I’ll bring you some ice to help cool you down.”
I turned to leave, but he reached out for my hand. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Taking care of me.”
“I’m not exactly sure. Let’s analyze it later.”
He squeezed my hand. “Sounds good.”
His stomach gurgled again and he leapt out of the bed, rushed to the ensuite bathroom, and closed the door. Retreating to the kitchen to give him privacy, I unpacked the rest of the groceries, put the ice pack in the freezer, and prepared ice in a bag, which I wrapped in a towel for his forehead. Afterward, I took a moment to better survey my surroundings. Cam’s kitchen was pristine. The sink was empty, dry, and spotless. The fridge contained everything a person would need for a morning protein shake, coffee creamer, salad dressings, ketchup, and assorted vegetables, but nothing extra.
A tan-colored sectional framed a mounted TV that hung above a fireplace. There was one floor lamp in a contemporary style. The home was beautiful and modern, but I sensed the heaviness of it. It looked like a shelter where Cam came to sleep, not a sanctuary where a person could relax and feel at home.
The office off the great room had only a laptop and three framed pictures: the same photo I first saw of Cam and Victoria at Christmas, Cam with Foster, and Cam with his mother again and another woman who looked similar. He was hugging her, so I hoped it was the cousin whose wedding was in a couple of weeks. Not sure why the sight of him with his arm around another woman made my stomach ache.
That wasn’t a good sign. Why should I care if his arm is around someone?
Turning back to the kitchen, I was overcome with the desire to spend time decorating and bringing warmth to the home. This man had been hurting for a long time, that was clear, and I knew how he felt and had this urge to want to make it better. If I made his hurt go away, maybe mine would too?
Cam let out another deep moan when I returned to his bedroom with more Pedialyte and the ice pack. He was doubled over and holding his knees.
I set everything down and gently touched him. “Are you?—”
“I’m okay, but maybe you could do something for me?” he said, standing up and putting his arm around my shoulders.
“Of course.”
“Smother me with that pillow.”
I giggled and pulled back the pinstripe covers of his bed. “Get in.”
“This is the worst I’ve felt in … years. I’ve ruined my puke-free streak.”
I tucked him in, set his glass on the nightstand, and put the ice pack on his head.
“How long was your streak?” I asked, coming to the other side of the bed.
“Since 1997.”
“Wow. I’m really sorry. Let’s have a moment of silence.”
He sighed and closed his eyes while I made myself comfortable next to him. Even his sheets smelled like fresh laundry and looked like they’d barely been slept in. It was still light outside, but suddenly my eyelids felt heavy.
“So why were you crying?” he asked, turning on his side toward me.
“What?”
“That day I saw you in those adorable pajamas … you had been crying?”
I opened my eyes and tucked my arms under my head. “That was the day my mother completely violated my trust by conspiring with my ex to get us back together. Once the excitement of not being on a date with you died down … I don’t know … I … walked into my house and blew a gasket.”
“Blowing a gasket is serious,” he said. “I’m sorry your mother did that. I still don’t understand how she could possibly want you to be with your ex.”
“I think she’s scared I’ll end up like she did. Pregnant after a one-night stand. For some reason she thinks Andrew represents a sense of stability for me, which is insane.”
He propped himself up on his elbow. “Pretty much.”
“If I had enough capital, I would open my own store and break free from my mother. While it’s been fun working in a situation where I do the work and she gets the credit, I would love to take my loyal clients away and start fresh.”
“Your mother sounds like a piece of work and you have never met your father … any siblings?”
“Nope.”
His face softened. It was starting to seem like he was feeling sorry for me, and I didn’t want that. I never wanted that. Some people had it much worse, which is why I’d always tried not to dwell on the heartache.
“Can I ask you a question?” I said, rolling back over.
“Go for it.”
“Why won’t you ever ask me out on a date?”
His eyes dropped to his hands, and he fidgeted with a fold in the comforter, but that didn’t stop me from expanding on my question. “You’re okay with me lying here with you, and okay with me coming to the Cayman Islands with you, but … dinner is too much?”
He rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling for a while. “When I met Britt, we did everything wrong as far as how you’re supposed to meet and start dating someone. If I ever start dating again, I want to do things right.”
“I wasn’t aware there was a manual on the exact way people must date.”
“Oh, there is, and chapter one is don’t get drunk at a bar with a woman who just called off an engagement, take her home, and sleep with her.”
I slid an inch closer to him. “Wait. So she called off an engagement to be with you, and then …”
“That’s right. Obviously, my dumb ass ignored those warning signs.”
“We’ve all done that.”
“And Britt always has this way of gaslighting and manipulating everyone around her. She told me she was escaping an abusive relationship. I found out years later, it was Britt that was the abuser. She left her ex when he lost his job during COVID. When we were together, she always made me feel like I had misheard or forgotten what she told me.”
“She’s the worst.”
“And that was her being kind. When she went through one of her fits, she would hit me, and it took everything in my body not to get physical with her to protect myself. And yet, she always made it sound like it was my fault every time she would hit me. I lost myself in all of that.”
“Cam … I don’t know what to say.” I reached out and touched his arm. “‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t really cut it, but that’s all I got.”
He shrugged. “I got through it.”
“You didn’t get through it. You survived it. Men can be abused too, they’re just taught not to talk about it.”
His teal eyes widened, and I could’ve sworn they started to get a little dewy.
“Anyway,” I started, clearing my throat, “You don’t want to ask me to dinner because you want things to be right when you’re ready?”
My entire body warmed from the way he looked at me.
“Kicklighter, you’re funny, beautiful, smart, and well, we don’t have enough time for me to list out all the things that make you so incredible, but I’m not in any shape to date right now.”
Those words seemed to hang in the air. ‘I’m not in any shape to date right now.’ That statement was the furthest from what I wanted to hear. And yet, maybe it’s what I needed to hear to stop me from being such a lovesick puppy around this man. I was still dealing with my ex, my crazy mother, and my future in the company. I wasn’t in any shape to date either.
“So, this Cayman Island trip … we’re going only as friends? What are the parameters?”
“Parameters?” Cam pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Let’s see. I’ll book the flight and hotel.”
“Separate rooms?”
“Of course, I mean, I can’t have you falling in love with me.”
I let out a deep cackle. “ Me fall in love with you ? Don’t worry, pal. I think it’s you that’s going to have a tough time resisting me.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, I’m fucking delightful.”
This time he let out a musical laugh that danced down my spine and resonated in all the right areas.
“You said earlier ‘once the excitement of our not-a-date died down.’” He pumped his eyebrows a few times. “You were excited.”
“And you like my pajamas. I’ve got to say, this isn’t going to be easy for you.”
“Maybe I should rescind my invitation. I don’t want to see you struggle with your overwhelming feelings for me,” he said with a wink.
“I’m all set, trust me.”
“So you’ll come?”
“Considering it.”
“Then, I should probably tell you …” He took a sip of Pedialyte. “There’s one more, small detail about the wedding.”
I arched one eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Britt and my brother Roman will be there.”