Chapter 27 Camden #2
When she catches sight of me, she bites down on her lip, trying and failing to suppress the big smile on her face. She’s so fucking gorgeous it actually hurts to look at her sometimes. But right now, it’s like first aid to my damaged soul. Her smile is contagious.
She bounces off the bed and rushes toward me, the excitement in her expression making me feel more important than I think I ever have.
“You came!”
As she crashes into me, throwing her arms around my neck, I fall back against the door.
“Sorry,” she says quickly, pulling back, like she’s as surprised as I am by her excitement.
I don’t let her get far before I pull her back in and bury my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume, or maybe it’s her hair products. “Don’t apologize for being happy to see me.” I press my lips to her soft skin and breathe her in again. “It’s nice to be wanted.”
The words are meant for myself, but when she pulls back and gives me a soft smile, it’s obvious that she heard me.
She pops up on her toes and presses a kiss to my jaw. “I’m really glad you came.”
Our quiet moment is cut short when the girls squeal about kissing boys, their voices so high-pitched they make me wince.
Savannah introduces me as her boyfriend. Piper, the older of the two, straightens and informs her that we’ve already met. The smaller one, Alice, suddenly turns shy and clings to her sister.
Damn. The two boys downstairs and the two girls up here, the oldest of which can’t be more than four? The Donovans have their hands full.
We head down for dinner, and the apartment descends into complete chaos. It’s tight quarters in the kitchen, and Alice refuses to sit anywhere but on Savannah’s lap.
I sit beside her, and while John asks a million questions about my time with the Bolts—and the kids interrupt every five seconds asking for the cheese or another meatball, or to see a video of a play John brings up—Savannah relaxes beside me, squeezing my thigh here and there and shooting me secret smiles.
It’s not a romantic dinner to say the least, but it’s nice, just being with her and observing her as she interacts with the people she cares about.
“Did you know Santa is coming this week?” Piper tells me seriously.
I nod. “Yeah, three more days, right?”
Her eyes shine bright. “He’s bringing me a Barbie dream house.”
“And me too,” Alice says from atop Savannah’s lap.
“Maybe,” John says. “So long as you’re on the nice list.”
“Oh, these girls would never be on the naughty list,” Rosalie says. “And to make sure, they’re going to go sit in the living room quietly while we clean up, aren’t you, girls?”
In unison they say, “Yes, Mrs. Donadio.”
The girls dart off, and once John has wiped the spaghetti sauce from the boys’ faces and hands, John Junior and Frankie toddle after their sisters.
“That was incredible,” I tell Rosalie, wiping my face with my napkin one last time. “Thank you for inviting me.”
Smiling, she holds up her empty glass. “Thank you for bringing the wine.”
I reach for Savannah’s plate and stack it on mine, but before I can do any more cleaning, Rosalie waves me off.
“Sit here with Nick. Savannah and I have this covered.”
John shakes his head. “Don’t even bother arguing with her. She won’t listen.”
The older woman beams. “I won’t.”
Savannah squeezes my thigh and stands, collecting our small stack of plates.
“Thank you,” I tell her.
She smiles. “Thank you for coming. Truly.”
“What do you do for Christmas?” Rosalie asks as she eyes John, who’s stacking the kids’ plates.
“I’m just going to carry them over for you,” he says with a laugh. “I promise I won’t wash them.”
“Just leave them in the sink. We’ll wash them after. I’ve got dessert ready.” She scurries over to the counter, and a moment later, she returns with a tray of cookies.
Once the dinner dishes have all been piled in the sink and on the counter, Savannah settles back beside me. I tug her chair closer and wrap an arm around her.
“So Christmas,” Rosalie prods again. “Do you spend it with your family?”
“No,” I admit. “My family is actually in Vegas.”
Nick perks up. “Oh, so is Savannah’s.”
I look over at her. “Really? I didn’t know you were from Vegas.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t really…” The words drop off, but I hear the message loud and clear: she doesn’t talk about it.
“Her mother is a piece of work and her father never wanted to be one,” Rosalie says like she’s talking about the weather.
Beside me, Savannah turns crimson.
I reach for her hand beneath the table and squeeze. “Then they’re the ones who are missing out.”
She offers me a soft smile as Rosalie says, “Of course they are. Our Savannah is wonderful. They don’t deserve her.”
Savannah shakes her head. “You’re just saying that because I’ll be here bright and early Christmas morning to cook with you.”
“Our best girl always is,” she says, her expression one of genuine affection. “Right, Nico? Wish our son had married someone as wonderful as her.”
“You love Junior’s wife,” Savannah shoots back, her smile more vibrant now.
Rosalie stands and collects the half-empty tray of cookies. “Yeah, I do. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”
Savannah settles her head on my shoulder. “Love you too, Rosie,” she murmurs.
I smile down at her. She’s so pretty like this.
So easy to like. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman.
It almost makes me forget what she said last night.
Maybe War and Daniel were right. Maybe I did bring that on.
I told her what I wanted, and she thought she should give it to me.
It’s sweet when I think about it like that.
And the truth is, the idea of it, of a family with Savannah, doesn’t scare me.
“What about you, Camden?” Nick says.
I give my head a little shake, realizing I’ve been lost in my thoughts. “What about me?”
“What are you doing for Christmas?”
“I, uh, spend Christmas Eve at a friend’s place.”
In the middle of the kitchen, Rosalie turns around, tray in hand. “What about Christmas Day?”
Savannah shifts and peers up at me, like she’s waiting for my answer. I consider lying. I don’t want pity, and I don’t want to dampen the mood, but I can’t lie to her. “I normally just relax on Christmas Day.”
“Alone?” Rosalie asks, her free hand clutching nonexistent pearls like I’ve personally offended her.
I nod.
“Well, not this year,” she says, like it’s not up for debate.
A discomfort that often hits me with these kinds of subjects surges. “Oh, that’s okay.”
Green eyes depthless, Savannah studies me, like she’s deep in thought.
I give her a little smile, assuring her that I’m good. I’m fine with being alone.
“No, she’s right.” Savannah straightens, her voice almost scratchy. Then she blinks and breaks into a beaming smile. “You’ll spend it with me. Please. We’re both going to the Langfields for Christmas Eve, right?”
I nod slowly, unsure that I like where this is going. Is this going to be a pity invite?
“Then you’ll come back here with me.” She peeks into the living room, where the kids are all settled in front of the television.
Then she leans in and whispers, “You can come with me to help the Donovans set up for Santa, and then we’ll wake up together on Christmas morning—our first Christmas morning together.
” She smiles now, even bigger, like the idea sounds as incredible to her as it does to me.
“And then we’ll have Christmas Day here, with everyone. ”
I assess her, take in the smile on her face, and allow myself to picture the scenes she’s just painted. I consider the memories we’ll make, and my heart thrashes wildly in my chest. Because I want it. I want all of that. With her.
“Sounds like the perfect Christmas,” I tell her.
She nods, her eyes glittering. “It really does.”