Chapter 26 Savannah
TWENTY-SIX
SAVANNAH
Daddy: What type of wine should I bring?
I stare at the text like it’s come to life, equipped with three heads and dancing before me.
What type of wine should I bring?
He’s still coming? After he rushed out of here before I’d fully woken up this morning, I was sure I’d never hear from him again.
Sure, he stuck around last night. And we had sex. But I figured that was goodbye sex. Like, wow, she’s hot and I don’t know how to reasonably extract myself from this situation, so I’ll fuck her one more time before I disappear.
Honestly, I wouldn’t have blamed him.
I’ve known him for a matter of weeks, and I sent a fucking ovulation calendar to his phone and basically told him I wanted him to knock me up. What reasonable man would stick around?
When he dipped out, mumbling about meeting his friends for breakfast while I was still blinking the sleep from my eyes, I will admit a wave of sadness hit me. Okay, more like a tsunami. I was gutted. Because the man behaved like a picture-perfect boyfriend last night.
He showed up with supplies because he thought I had my period. He watched rom-coms with me and binged on junk food right alongside me until our stomachs ached. He was willing—happy, even—to have sex with me while I was bleeding. Even if I wasn’t really.
Every single one of those actions told me more about the kind of man Camden Snow is than anything he could have told me on a date. He puts others first. He’s caring and sweet and fun as hell to be with. He’s the kind of person I would want to date for real.
And then I scared him away by telling him I wanted to have his babies.
It makes sense. Hell, it’s what I expected. But still, watching him scurry out, then being left in my silent apartment with nothing but time to come to terms with how I’d chased him away was hard.
Though it isn’t nearly as hard as figuring out why the hell he’s texting me about wine now.
Does the man have no sense of self-preservation? He’s really coming back for more?
Me: Did you mean to text this to me?
The three dots appear right away, and almost instantly, his reply comes through.
Daddy: Obviously. Who else would I bring wine to?
Me: After the way you left this morning, I figured you wouldn’t come tonight.
Daddy: I said I was coming.
Me: Yeah, last night before…I said what I said.
Daddy: I have no idea what you’re talking about. Did you say something weird?
I roll my eyes, picturing the cocky smirk he’s wearing right now.
Me: Don’t play coy.
Daddy: Tell me what kind of wine to bring, baby girl. Or would you rather discuss what you said last night?
I grunt. He’s infuriating. Is this man seriously coming back for more?
I navigate to the girls’ group chat, alerting them to the 911 situation on our hands. Then I tell Camden that Rosalie only drinks Chianti and not to spend too much. She’s a cheap date.
Two hours later, I’ve parked myself at a table at a coffee shop close to home, and I’m staring at my computer screen while I wait for Josie.
A blank screen.
Because I don’t have a clue what I should write. Every word feels like a lie.
Don’t sleep with him on the first date—whoops did that.
Talk about yourself, not your exes—unless he begs you to tell him about everyone you’ve fucked and makes you come while you do it.
Jealousy is toxic—or he’ll find it insanely attractive when you claim him.
Each of those scenarios on their own could be looked past, yeah, but the future baby conversation? That shouldn’t be negotiable. I should be able to tell my readers with complete certainty not to do it. But Camden has me questioning everything I’ve ever known about dating.
“You look pissed.”
Startling, I straighten and snap my head up.
Josie is standing over me, an amused expression on her pretty freckled face.
I blow out a breath. “More like confused. Befuddled. Lost.”
“Befuddled, huh?” Smirking, she pulls out the chair across from me and picks up the coffee I ordered for her.
“Okay, get this,” I say, snapping my laptop closed. “Last night I sent Camden my ovulation tracker—”
“Wait, you’re tracking your ovulation schedule?”
I blink slowly, holding back an annoyed sigh. “Obviously not. I just downloaded the app and put in fake information. Then I sent it to him.”
She snorts, her fair skin going pink. “Okay, you may continue.”
“He showed up with chocolates and a heating pad and all kinds of junk food because he thought I was on my period.”
Eyes widening, she gapes. “No, sir.”
“Oh yes, sir.” I throw my hands out. “He’s perfect, Josie. Freaking perfect. And later, when I admitted that it was an ovulation tracker, he still didn’t freak out.”
“Wait,” she says, leaning forward. “How did you explain that with a straight face?”
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. “I have no idea.”
She whistles, bringing her coffee to her lips. “Damn, Daddy Snow is obsessed with you.”
Forcing my chin up, I roll my shoulders. “I don’t know what to do. He won’t break up with me. I think Sutton’s right.”
With a ridiculous smile, she stares at me.
Eventually, I can’t take the scrutiny any longer. “What?”
“You don’t want him to break up with you. It’s written all over your face.”
“Yes, I do. I need him to.” I stab at my laptop with one finger. “I can’t lose this job.”
Smile falling, she sets her coffee down. “You’re not going to lose your job. The column’s numbers are up already. You’ve hooked your readers. They all want to know what you’ll do next to get the poor guy to dump you.”
“That’s just it.” I slump. “I can’t do it anymore. You’re right. I like him, okay? He’s nice and sweet and so fucking good in bed.” I lean forward. “Like so fucking good.”
She tips her head back and laughs. “Yeah, I can see that. So enjoy it. Your readers are enjoying your antics, and it seems like Camden is too.” She shrugs. “If he didn’t dump you after the ovulation tracker incident, it sounds like you’re in the clear. The man is smitten.”
I squirm in my seat, processing her words. “So I just keep doing the crazy shit?”
She shrugs, brows lifted. “Or stop. But then you don’t have an article, so yeah, I don’t know about that.”
I slump back and sink down in my seat. I’m no closer to getting this week’s column written than I was ten minutes ago. “What would Sutton do?”
She laughs. “Probably invite him over for the holidays and doodle her first name with his last name on a piece of paper.”
Head hung, I bury my face in my hands and sigh.
Josie only laughs harder. “You know she would.”
Straightening, I pick up my phone and dial Sutton. The second she answers, I cut her off. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done in a relationship.”
She coughs out an affronted laugh. “Excuse you. How about ‘hello my dear friend? How are you doing?’”
“Hi, Sutton,” Josie singsongs like a goody two-shoes.
“Hi, Jose.”
“I’m serious. I need your help,” I whine.
“She really does,” Josie chimes in. “The man didn’t even dump her after she sent him her ovulation calendar.”
“Oh my god,” Sutton wheezes. “That’s amazing.
By the way, I’m thoroughly enjoying your article and I’ve been following all your rules.
” Her words get faster, her excitement palpable.
“Royal and I are going on our third date next week. He’s coming to see me when the Bolts get back from their away stretch next weekend. ”
Warmth blooms in my chest. “Aw, Sutton, that makes me so happy.”
“He’s really great,” she chirps. “And no, I haven’t slept with him or doodled our names or even asked him to come to Maine for Christmas. Honestly, your column really is helping me.”
Josie beams at me from across the table.
“My column, where I detail the things a woman shouldn’t do, even if they’re somehow working for me?” I scoff. “Or maybe you’re just taking a relationship at a normal pace and not molding your life around that of a man’s since he’s as busy as you are.”
Sutton hums noncommittally. “Maybe. But this call isn’t about me. You need help coming up with more what-not-to-do ideas, huh?”
“You should invite him to spend Christmas with you,” Josie says.
I lower the phone and pin her with a glare. “No.”
She shrugs. “Chances are he’s going to be at the Langfields Christmas Eve party anyway, and since Addie has claimed you this year—”
“Yes, like I’m a puppy the three of you pass around,” I say with a laugh.
“You know it’s not like that,” she says, her head tilted and her lips turned down. “We all just want to spend the day with you.”
I give her a small smile. My friends make sure I don’t feel like the girl without a family by acting like they’re fighting over me instead. Last year I spent Christmas with the Warrens, but this year Addie asked me first.
I blow out a breath, my phone back at my ear. “You really think Camden will be there?”
Josie nibbles on her lip. “He’s kind of like you in that way. He’s always in Boston for the holidays rather than with his family. And since Camden is attached to Daniel at the hip, and Daniel’s twin married into the Langfield family, he’s always done the holidays with them.”
Lips pressed together, I consider it. “I don’t think it’ll cut it for the article. Doesn’t sound like asking him to spend the holiday with me will freak him out.”
She scrunches her nose and huffs. “What is something that Camden is super into that we could use to freak him out?”
I snort. “I barely know anything about the guy, other than he loves hockey and he’s great in bed.”
Josie’s eyes light up. “Oh my god, I have the best idea.”