Chapter 11
ADAM
It’s a little before seven in the morning as I walk into Sweet Cakes.
I’ve made a habit of arriving at Camille’s house before the crew with fresh coffee and pastries.
We’ll spend a few moments eating breakfast together and enjoying each other's company before she starts writing and I start renovating. I love this private time we’ve carved out of our workdays.
It’s become our thing.
Camille and I have fallen into a comfortable pattern these past two weeks.
I was afraid things would get awkward between us after I pressed her against the wall in her foyer and kissed her like I was trying my damnedest to mark her as mine.
If she hadn’t put the brakes on things, I’m not sure I would have stopped.
As soon as my lips connected with hers, I wanted more.
All I meant to do was kiss her. But as soon as my mouth claimed hers, I was a goner.
She tasted so damn good.
There’s nothing I want more than a repeat of that kiss. And thank fuck, she hasn’t pulled away like she did after our first kiss. She seeks me out, and we steal little moments throughout the day to just be together. We’ve shared a few more kisses, but nothing as intense and hot as that night.
Sometimes I get the sense she has something to tell me.
Like there’s something deeper on her mind, but she can’t ever seem to get the words out.
She’ll stare at me, get all flustered, and then mumble.
Usually something like never mind or I can’t do this yet.
Then she’ll walk away. It’s frustrating, but also makes me want to wrap her up in my arms and hold her until whatever is bothering her goes away.
I’m absolutely crazy for Camille. I can’t deny it any longer, at least not to myself.
And that scares me. A lot. I’m not sure she’s equally as crazy about me.
I’ve no doubt we share a mutual attraction for each other—and our chemistry is intense—but she hesitates.
Her loss is still holding her back. She’s trying, and that’s enough at this point.
Maybe I’m being an ass by making my intentions known.
But I don’t want to walk away from her. I’m already in too deep and need to see where this leads.
But my heart is still fragile, too. It’s been years since Irene left me, but it still stings. I lost everything I really wanted in life when she left.
Despite that loss, my life is good. I’m close to my siblings, and with any luck, they’ll produce lots of offspring, and I’ll be the world’s greatest uncle.
Just like I am to Matt’s daughter, Emmie.
My life may not have turned out like I planned, but I’ve made the best of it and found a new kind of happiness.
But no matter what I tell myself, that happiness isn’t enough. Kids or no kids, having a woman by my side will make it even better. I just hope I’m not setting myself up for more pain where Camille is concerned.
“Here you go, darling.” Rachel sets two coffees and a box filled with pastries on the counter. “I put in a couple extra chocolate croissants since I didn’t have any yesterday. I know those are Cami’s favorite.” She winks, dragging a smile out of me.
“Thanks. She’ll appreciate that.”
“How’s the renovation coming along? I haven’t seen Cami all week to ask.”
“Good. Ahead of schedule.” My smile grows.
I’m happy the project is progressing so well.
Being ahead of schedule is something that hardly ever happens on large jobs like this.
Last week, we put the new tile flooring down in the spare bathrooms and foyer.
Earlier this week we installed the kitchen cabinets.
“As long as everything goes according to plan, I’ll have her countertops installed any day now, and she’ll have a fully functioning kitchen. ”
“That’s good. I know she’s anxious to cook again. She’s promised to have us all over for dinner once you’re done.”
“Well, that might be sooner rather than later.” I grab the coffees and pastries and turn to leave but run into the customer behind me. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t hear you come up behind me.”
“No apologies needed.” The young woman speaks with a lively, southern accent and gives me the sweetest smile. It looks so familiar it nearly knocks me back. “I couldn’t help but overhear you mention Cami and a renovation. You’re not by any chance talking about Camille Barnes, are you?”
“Why yes, darling.” Rachel answers from behind the counter.
She has her back to us and hasn't yet looked at the young woman who’s rendered me speechless.
“Do you know Cami? She’s pretty new to—” Rachel turns around and freezes.
She’s seeing what I’m seeing. “Dear, God. You’re the spitting image of her. You must be Elizabeth.”
Rachel comes out from behind the counter and takes Elizabeth by the shoulders and looks her up and down.
I’ve seen pictures of her at Camille’s house and knew there was a resemblance.
But in person, it’s like looking back in time at a younger version of Camille.
They share the same bone structure, build, long dark hair, and pale blue eyes.
Elizabeth’s lips are fuller, and her smile doesn’t quite match Camille’s now that I’ve gotten a better look, but other than that, she’s the spitting image of her mother.
“I am, but please call me Lizzy,” she sighs. “I’m so relieved y’all know my mom. I thought I’d surprise her with a visit, but I didn’t take into account the small town and the lack of Ubers. This may not have been the best idea I ever had.”
“When did you arrive?” I finally find my voice.
“Bus just dropped me off a few minutes ago. I took the red-eye from Atlanta.” Her smile grows, and she doesn’t look the least bit tired from her travels. I’d be dead on my feet if I took the red-eye across the country. “Can I use a phone to call my mom? Mine is dead.”
“I can do you one better. I’m actually heading out to Camille’s now if you want a ride.”
She tilts her head, her smile turning a bit mischievous. “Why would you be going to Mom’s house?” She looks at the time on her smartwatch. “Before seven in the morning.” Her eyes shift to the box in my hand and the coffees in the other. “And with two coffees and a box of pastries.”
She crosses her arms and pins me with a curious stare. I can’t help but chuckle. I’m unsure what to say so I opt for the simplest truth instead. “I’m Adam, the architect she hired to renovate the chalet.”
“Do you take all your clients coffee and breakfast?”
“Um.” I divert my eyes toward Rachel. Her face lights up with a huge grin, offering no help.
I’m not prepared to discuss my relationship status with Camille.
Yet, here I stand before the scrutinizing gaze of her daughter, nonetheless.
I could deny my feelings, and pretend I’m just being a nice guy.
Or I could tell her the truth. “What can I say? I like your mom. I like making her smile.”
Lizzy’s expression softens, and her smile returns. “I like seeing Mom smile, too. She hasn’t done that a lot lately.” She nods toward the box in my hand. “You don’t by any chance have one of those glazed donuts in there do you?”
“Afraid not.”
She forces a frown. “Bummer. Those are my favorites.”
I turn toward Rachel, who’s been watching us with a knowing smile. “Can you please get Lizzy a couple glazed donuts? And,” I looked back at Lizzy, “do you drink coffee?”
She nods. “Black with one sugar, please.”
“And a black coffee, one sugar.”
“Coming right up.” Rachel’s especially chipper.
It probably has something to do with the fact that she’s the first to hear me admit that I like Camille.
All my friends and brothers suspect as much, but no one has asked me about her yet.
Ricky joked about me liking her when I first started the job, but that’s him giving me shit.
As soon as he suspected something more was going on, he backed off.
After I pay Rachel for the additional items, Lizzy and I walk to my truck. She doesn’t have much with her, just a small backpack and a small rolling suitcase. I open the door for her and help her in the cab. Once she’s situated, I ask, “Can you hold these? I’ll put your bag in the back.”
“Sure thing.” She smiles and takes the coffee and pastries.
As soon as I slide into my seat, she asks, “So, you and my mom, huh?”
I chuckle and shake my head. “You’re blunt.”
“I don’t see any reason not to be.” She stares at me like this is a perfectly normal conversation. It’s anything but normal. “You really like her. I can tell.”
“I’ve gotten to know her pretty well over the past couple months. But …” I sigh, not sure how to finish that statement.
“She’s been through a lot,” Lizzy says.
I don’t know what else to say, so I just nod.
We sit in silence for a few minutes. Me looking out the windshield and her staring at me like she’s trying to decide if I’m worthy.
A protective, concerned daughter is a roadblock I’ve never experienced before.
What’s the right thing to say here? I already admitted that I like Camille.
I’m not about to get into the details of the full status of our relationship.
Especially considering we don’t really have a relationship yet.
I finally add, “Your mom told me about your dad.”
“Well, I would hope so.” Lizzy opens the bag with the glazed donuts inside and pulls one out. She takes a big bite and swallows before she continues. “Losing Daddy isn’t Mom’s problem, though. Don’t get me wrong, she loved Daddy. But it’s been two years, you know what I mean?”
I glance over at Lizzy and furrow my brows. “There’s no time frame on mourning the loss of a loved one.”
“Oh, I know. But if you’re going to date my mom, you need to know the entire story.” She stares at me like she’s waiting for me to say something. But I don’t know what to say because I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Did she tell you about Alex?”
I shake my head, my heart beating so loudly, my ears are ringing. “Who’s Alex?”
Her shoulders slump, and she sighs. “My brother.”
My eyes widen, and I think I stop breathing. What the actual fuck? How could I not know this? After all this time—in her house, out with her, kissing her, talking to her, looking at the photos in her study—not once has she mentioned an Alex. “Cami didn’t tell me she had a son.”
“She refuses to talk about him. He died in the car accident with Daddy. That’s the loss that’s really holding her back.”
“Fuck.” I squeeze the bridge of my nose before running my fingers down my beard and around my mouth. Competing with a deceased husband is one thing, but a deceased child? There isn’t anything I can do to help her move past that loss. Hell, does anyone ever get over a loss like that?
Why didn’t she tell me? We may be taking things slow, but I thought she trusted me. “Maybe you shouldn’t be telling me this. Camille obviously wasn’t ready for me to know this part of her life.”
“Alex was my brother and a huge part of my life. I can talk about him all I want.”
“Maybe so, but considering my feelings for your mom, it doesn’t seem right for you to tell me her secrets.”
“Hmm.” She eats the rest of the glazed donut as I start the truck.
We drive in silence for the first few minutes, both of us focusing on drinking our coffees.
My mind is trapped in a tailspin, and I can’t wrap my head around this new information.
I don’t know what to do with it, and I have no time to prepare myself before seeing Camille again.
We’ll be at her house in less than ten minutes.
“I like you, Adam.” Her admission surprises me. “Any man who’d stop a conversation like this has to be a good man. But I’m gonna tell you anyway. So, listen carefully. If you want a chance with my mom, you need to fully understand her issues.”
I shake my head. The last thing I want is for Camille to feel betrayed. “I’m a patient man. If she wants to reveal anything to me, she will in her own time.”
“Well, I’m not patient, and I want Mom to be happy. Even if that means she had to move all the way across the country to find it.”
Her last words make me defensive for Camille’s choices, and I feel the urge to defend her. “You don’t support her decision to move?”
“Oh, I do. She had to get away. She’d never let herself truly live again any other way. I may be the only person in her life who truly understands that. You see, she blames herself for the accident.”
“Was she driving?”
“No. She wasn’t even in the car. She was at home with me.
We were going to watch a movie. Mom wanted popcorn, but we didn’t have any.
So, Daddy and Alex ran out to the store to get some.
They should’ve been back in twenty minutes.
But that didn’t happen. It was raining. Another car was driving too fast, hydroplaned, and slammed into Daddy’s car. ”
I wince at the factual, and somewhat emotionless, description from Lizzy. I’m sure all this has been equally as hard on her. I’m sure her way of describing the accident is in part a coping mechanism, but I don’t like it.
“That’s hardly Cami’s fault,” I finally manage to say.
“I know that. But try convincing her of that. She thinks if she hadn’t wanted popcorn, then they wouldn’t have left in the first place. Then they’d still be here. That’s the real issue you have to overcome. What do they call it, survivor’s guilt?”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“Like I said, you seem like a nice guy.” She smiles. “And you did buy me coffee and donuts.” She pauses, then gives me another frown before she points at me. “Then again, you could be luring me out to the middle of nowhere, and I’ll never be heard from again.”
She laughs, and I groan. “You’re safe. Trust me.”
“Oddly enough, I do.”
She leans back in her seat and kicks her feet up on the dashboard, sipping her coffee. I can’t stop thinking about how upset Camille is going to be when she finds out Lizzy told me the truth.