Chapter 5
Juli
It takes eighty minutes to overcome the nerves of having dinner with Cameron. Mostly because I’m uncertain what the hell dinner means. I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, but today was bewildering, awkward, and a host of other emotions I wasn’t prepared for.
He’s still the Cameron I remember, just more “man” than those few summers back when we were friends. I forgot he called me “Little Langley.” It was before the “Jude” moniker came into play.
A knock on the door interrupts the path of wayward thoughts. It’s probably not smart to go down it, to bring up the past. Those memories are best left bottled up.
At the door, I’m greeted by a girl in her early twenties bouncing nervously from one foot to the other.
“The bride and groom are happy you’re here. Please accept this gift as a token of their appreciation.” With a forced smile, she hands over a bottle of wine. Once it’s securely in my hands, she jets off down the hallway.
Odd.
Closing the door, my eyes inspect the bottle. Erica’s and Jonah’s smiling faces greet me, along with the words, “Thanks for joining us as we say I do.” The image covers the real label, so I’m uncertain what kind of white wine it is. It will be a fun surprise to uncover later.
Like Cameron promised to be.
Thinking his name brings up an image of him. One of him laughing so hard at badminton players from earlier. I can’t help but smile. I catch my reflection in the mirror on the wall, reminding me I have to finish getting ready.
The walk to the restaurant takes five minutes. I decided on casual attire for the evening. I may have put a little extra time into straightening my hair and added a little sparkle to my face. Somewhere in the middle between gala-glam and Netflix-drab.
Cameron stands at the entrance. He traded his T-shirt and board shorts for a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a polo, top button left open. The ends of his hair appear to be wet, giving off the “fresh out of the shower” vibe. He’s downright sexy, a notion both exhilarating and terrifying.
The nerves I thought were gone return in full force, compelling me to stop walking and stare at him.
Butterflies take flight in my abdomen, leaving me slightly out of breath.
I thought I was more prepared for tonight, but I was wrong.
I can’t understand the nerves. It’s dinner with an old friend of my brother’s. Nothing more.
Why, then, do I hope it is? That tonight we don’t end in the same situation we’re starting?
Old feelings reignite—the ones from that night, the night we crossed a line.
The picture that’s been dulled by the years between then and now is suddenly in super sharp focus.
The memories wash over me, warming me up as if it were happening right here, right now.
“Juliana?”
Preston’s startled voice slams me to the present, all thoughts of the past and Cameron immediately disappearing.
Ripping my gaze from Cameron, I turn to find Preston standing agape. He’s dressed for work, though his hair’s messy and unkempt. His shocked expression is the catalyst I need to shake out of my funk.
“Surprise, big bro. I’m here!” I launch myself at him, catching him unprepared. He stumbles back slightly but remains standing. Shock still evident, he finally wraps his arms around me, squeezing me into him like old times.
“What the heck are you doing here?” Incredulity laces each word. “It’s so good to see you. It’s been way too long.” His voice lower, like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear.
A lone tear pricks the corner of my eye. I knew it would be good to see him, but I didn’t count on being so emotional. Still in his arms, I finagle my face off his chest to peer up at him. “Erica’s getting married on Saturday. I’m here for the wedding. Wanted to surprise you.”
“Mission accomplished.” He tips my chin up. “I miss you.”
“You never come home. We all miss you.” Before I get too sappy and emotional, I add, “But seeing this place, I understand why you never leave. It’s amazing. And I haven’t seen half of it yet.”
His eyes scan my face, and he presses me out of his arms. “You look nice. Having dinner with people from the wedding?”
I shake my head. “No, Cameron. Join us.”
He tilts his head, looking past me. I step out of his reach and stand beside him. “Hmm,” he clucks. “Interesting. You knew she was coming?” He directs the question toward Cameron. He’s not exactly upset, but a hint of irritation lingers in his tone.
Cameron steps closer. “Ran into her earlier today. Dragged her to the badminton tournament, and somehow we agreed to meet for dinner.” He pauses, and I wonder what’s going to take place. Preston seems . . . distracted. “She’s right. You should join us.”
My brother dismisses him with a hand in the air before he finishes the sentence. “Can’t tonight.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not leaving here without a meal with my brother.
An entire meal. Not one where we sit down and you stare at your phone throughout it, nor get interrupted by an ‘emergency.’ One meal.
Me and you.” I don’t know why that feels so good to say to him.
Maybe it’s all the emotions of not seeing him for so long, of missing his company.
“Deal.” His hand reaches into his pants pocket, and he produces his phone. Whatever’s on it pulls his brows together. “I gotta take this.” He already mentioned he wasn’t available tonight, but my heart plummets knowing he’s leaving.
I put my hands on his chest, forcing his attention to me. Though I’m much shorter than he is, he meets my gaze. “I’m serious, Preston. Me and you are sitting down for a meal. I’ll charge it to my suite.” He cracks the faintest smile.
“I miss you, Juli. Text me, and we’ll set it up.” He swipes his lips across my forehead before he races off.
“Well, that was,” I start, not quite knowing where my thoughts land on the matter.
On the one hand, I’m glad I finally laid eyes on him.
On the other, nothing’s changed. I’m not sure why I expected him to be different.
To be the brother he was growing up, and not the one who fills every waking hour with work.
“Shall we eat?” Cameron’s response is perfectly timed.
Though I’m still unprepared for what “eating” with Cameron entails, it seems like a better idea than standing here pretending like my brother cares more than he does.
“Yep.”
“Wait. Start again.”
Cameron’s comment elicits a chuckle. Or maybe it’s the wine zooming through me adding to his confusion.
We’ve been sitting for about half an hour. Started with drinks and an appetizer of Lowcountry crab dip with toasted flatbread and a meal of Carolina pork tenderloin with coriander and mustard seed crust. I’m attempting to explain what I do, but the man can’t seem to grasp it.
“Book covers, graphics, teasers, formatting. I do it all.”
His eyes widen. “I know what those words mean individually, but not when you put them together in a half-sentence.”
“Hold on.” I whip my phone out of my bag and bring up the Kindle app. Scrolling through the hundreds of books, I find one that works as an example. I make sure the cover fills the entire screen. “This. I did this.”
Cameron takes the phone from my hands. Jolts of electricity jump at the hasty touch. He studies the phone for a minute, then looks up at me. “You designed this cover?”
I nod, proud of that particular one. The author struggled to find an image to perfectly capture the picture in her head of who the hero was.
We tried a bunch of different stock photos.
Even when we found the right one, she wasn’t set on the fonts we had previously used for her other books.
Before she got to the point of complete frustration and devastation, I tried one I didn’t love and hardly ever used, but the minute I put it on the screen, it fit. And she loved it.
“You wouldn’t believe how difficult it is sometimes to scroll through hundreds of pictures of men in various stages of undress. But hey, it pays the bills.”
Cameron side-eyes me, calling me on my bluff. “I would imagine it would be almost paralyzing day in and day out.” His deadpan is on point.
“Some days it definitely feels that way.” Which is true.
Finding a real-life image of a person someone has concocted in their mind isn’t always easy.
But there are worse things in the world to have as a job.
I know. I had them when I was younger. Designing graphics for indie authors offers me so many benefits, ones I wouldn’t trade in a heartbeat.
I get to put all my creative juices into my designs, but best of all, the work I do feels important to the authors I work with.
And, icing on the cake—the job pays the bills and then some. Not that I need it.
“How did you get into it?” Cameron takes a sip of his beer. He made it clear this restaurant doesn’t serve Bushwackers, but if we wanted a nightcap, he’d be sure to bring me to The Drift Bar & Grill. I’m limiting my alcohol intake because I’m excited to try the new drink.
“I had a friend from college—actually, she may be at the wedding this weekend—who decided writing romance novels was something she wanted to do. I read the book and was experimenting with some lines, helping her out to come up with a way to ‘tease’ new readers with snippets. And it kinda stemmed from there. I did her first cover, it was a hit, she introduced me to some friends, and my business took off. It’s been a wild ride the last five years, and it’s only getting bigger the more connections I make.
Half of the people I design for I’ve never met in person.
Which is a weird phenomenon, but it is what it is. ”
“Kinda like I meet people here at the resort once and never see them again. Unless they return for a visit.”
I nod. “Yeah, sorta. I guess.” I’m not sure it’s the same, but I’m also not in a position to argue with Cameron about something this trivial.
“I feel like you don’t totally agree.” But apparently he is.
Contemplating my answer, I don’t speak right away. Is he wrong? No, probably not. It is similar, but it’s also something I don’t want to continue talking about. I’d rather get to know a little more about him.
“What’s it like working at the resort? It’s been open, what? Three years, right?”
His one brow raise alerts me he’s on to me, but I ignore it.
“May was three years.” He leans back against the back of the booth, an expression of eagerness filling his face.
“Honestly, it’s the best. Sure, we get some crotchety people from time to time, but it’s rare.
Mostly, it’s people who want to be here, people who are on vacation and breaking free from the rut of their lives.
Which usually means they enjoy their time away.
You’d think it would be a given, being in paradise, an oasis if you will, but it’s not. ”
“What’s your favorite part?”
Cameron’s mouth opens but soon shuts again, his mind toiling to best answer the question. Finally, after giving it some thought, he replies, “Can I say all of it?”
“No” leaps out of my mouth. How can his favorite part be all of it? Then I realize I’m not being fair. If he enjoys all aspects of his job, who am I to judge? I’m about to concede and tell him that, but he talks first.
“Anything that has to do with being on the water. If I could only do that, it would be amazing.” It’s not so much how he says it, but his tone definitely adds to the excitement of his statement.
“So not badminton?” I wonder playfully to push him a little.
“Yeah, no. Nor any other boring games and sports the resort offers.”
“Fair. When did you move to South Carolina? You were from up North somewhere, right?”
“Good memory. Connecticut, originally. And I moved down about four years now. Soon after Preston offered me a stake in the resort.”
Ah yes. His stake.
I hope he can’t see the way my cheeks flush with heat, though not sure how he can miss it with his eyes basically penetrating into me.
I guzzle some water to avoid any unwanted thoughts releasing and to help cool me off.
There’s a lull in our conversation until our waiter arrives with the check.
“I’ll take it,” I say, holding out my hand, but Cameron doesn’t allow it. He rips it from the perplexed waiter, who takes the hint and scurries away once Cameron has it in his hand. “You don’t have to pay. Charge it to my room. It’s . . .” At the moment, the room number escapes me.
He winks at me. “Perks of being an owner, Jude.”
As he scribbles something on the receipt, my heart squeezes at the use of his nickname for me.
The first time he did it, I swear it was to tease me.
To show I wasn’t anything more than Preston’s little sister.
But when he used it on our night, I knew it was more.
Even if I haven’t heard it in so many years, and every time it brings me back to that night. The same night he earned his nickname.
“It’s still early. Want to hit up The Drift for a bit before calling it a night?”
My attention drawn to Cameron, he’s eager for me to say yes. With a glance at the time, I nod. “No plans tomorrow and the ability to walk home, I might splurge for two.” I’m thoroughly enjoying this vacation and break from reality. Who knows when I’ll have an opportunity like this again?
I stand from the booth, waiting for Cameron to do the same.
His brows furrowed, his expression unreadable, his eyes scan the table, looking for I don’t know what.
“You had enough to eat? Bushwackers are not for lightweights.” He spits out the last word, almost as if not to call me one but implying I am one.
Using all of my five feet and two inches, I stand tall. Well, I stand straight. “Who you calling a lightweight, mister?”
Indecision skates through his eyes, yet he’s the one who initially suggested this drink. Now, he seems like he wants to take it back.
“I don’t want to be the one you blame for a severe hangover in the morning.”
“I’m a big girl and can make bad decisions for myself.” Cameron chuckles, and I realize what I’ve said, a piece of me I’ve given away by accident.
Instead of calling me out on it, he wraps an arm around my shoulder. An electric current zaps my body, an unfamiliar feeling as of late.
“We’ll start with one and see how it settles.”
“I don’t remember you so bossy.” Again, my mouth gets ahead of me, leaking secrets without my permission.
Though as long as the big one remains inside, these pesky little tidbits I’m sharing won’t break me.
And besides, after this weekend, it’s not like Cameron’s going to be a part of my life on the regular.
If at all.