Chapter Eighteen
CAMILA
The next day, I woke up feeling like a truck had run over me while I slept. And this time I hadn’t had a single drop of alcohol the day before.
Still, it felt like I was hungover from everything that had happened.
I must admit that I found Michael Turner's mother to be much nicer than I had imagined.
His sister-in-law was also a sweetheart, and his brother was very polite.
I had been working at Turner Architecture for over two years, long enough to have been through the period when he was CEO and, although he was more approachable than his brother, he was still a very distant figure, considered rigid and known for running everything there with a much stronger iron fist than his late father.
Back to Trinity Turner... Everyone said she was a bit of a diva, and, well, that part seemed to be absolutely true. But she seemed to like me, treated me very kindly, and—most importantly to me—she got along really well with my grandmother.
If she treated my grandmother well, she already guaranteed my sympathy.
However, all that talk about wedding preparations was exhausting.
When I came back from the bathroom to the table, I still tried to change their minds, but I could see sadness in my grandmother's eyes when she thought about the possibility of her only granddaughter getting married only in a civil ceremony.
She didn't care about grand parties, but, if necessary, she would make a cake herself – even though she wasn't that good at baking – and decorate the living room of our apartment so we could welcome friends and toast to my wedding.
Besides, of course, she always dreamed of seeing me wearing a wedding dress, holding a bouquet and everything.
And that's why I completely lost the courage to keep insisting and I let the plans continue to be made.
The same thing seemed to happen with Michael and his mother, but he tried even harder to convince her that we didn't want a big party.
And he managed to get her to agree to 'something very simple', at her winter mansion in Aspen, with 'just' two hundred and fifty guests.
And all this happened while a wild wolf was prowling around the dinner table.
Okay, I admit that Apollo really seemed like a tame dog – even my grandmother got along really well with him. But my fear of dogs wouldn’t disappear overnight.
It was Sunday, so I could afford to stay in bed a little longer. But it was just after eight o'clock when I got tired of lying down and got up.
I got to the kitchen still wearing my baby doll and with my hair uncombed when I jumped back at the scene I found.
We had visitors... at that hour of the morning?
And that visitor, of all people?
“Good morning, Cami. You woke up early, my love! Look who came to have breakfast with us.”
I looked at him, still not believing that he was there, sitting next to my grandmother at the kitchen table, eating pancakes and drinking a cup of coffee.
“Good morning, sunshine!” I could clearly hear the tone of sarcasm in Michael's voice. And, by the way he looked at me, I could tell how much he enjoyed finding me in such a deplorable state.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Cami!” my grandmother was shocked. “Is that any way to talk to your fiancé?”
“You're right, Grandma!” I looked back at Michael Turner, who was visibly trying to hold back his laughter. “What the hell are you doing here, honey ?”
“Much better this way, my little dove,” he replied, in an ironic tone that my grandmother obviously didn't catch, as he quickly stood up, bringing an enchanted smile to his lips.
“You two are so cute. I have to go to the store, so I'll leave you two alone. Behave yourselves, okay?”
She left a kiss on my arm as she walked past me and out of the kitchen. I turned my head and followed her with my eyes until she walked out the living room door. Only then did I look back at my fake fiancé.
“It's eight thirty in the morning on a Sunday, what are you doing here?”
“Jenna told me yesterday that she usually wakes up early on Sundays to go to the store, so I thought it wouldn't be a problem to show up this early.” He took another bite of the pancake and made a face like he was enjoying the finest of delicacies.
“Wow, this is good. Does your grandmother make it?”
“It's from the bakery.”
“Which one?”
“The one around the corner. What does it matter? It's just pancakes. Tell me, what do you want?”
He looked at me again, his eyes running over my body and giving me a half-smile.
“Do you always wake up this sexy?”
I ran my hands through my hair, trying to smooth it down a bit, and felt my blood boil the moment I caught the mockery in his voice.
I was obviously not looking the least bit sexy in a Garfield-print baby doll.
“Are you going to say what you want or not?”
He ate the last bite of the pancake and sat back in his chair.
“I need you to go with me somewhere.”
What the hell! I knew our deal included accompanying him to some events, but I didn't think it would start so soon.
“What kind of important event do you have on a Sunday morning?”
“I'm going to visit Alice.”
I suddenly found myself speechless when I noticed the sparkle in his eyes as he said that sentence. It was undeniable how important that commitment really was to him.
However, I tried hard to maintain a tough stance.
“And do I really need to go with you?”
“It’d be very important if you could go.
I want to introduce you to the Harrises as my fiancée.
Our engagement has already been communicated to their lawyers, but Janet thinks it would be very helpful if you came along.
It would be very fitting if my future wife would be interested in meeting and spending some time with my daughter. ”
This time, I wasn't sure if I could maintain the defensive stance I always had toward him.
I confess that, at first, I had some doubts about whether it would really be the right thing to do to take the child away from the grandparents who had raised her since she was born and hand her over to an irresponsible playboy like Michael Turner.
However, now, seeing the sparkle in his eyes as he asked me to go with him to visit his daughter, somehow warmed my heart and made me think that, perhaps, I was really doing the right thing.
“Okay, I'll go with you,” I announced.
And a huge smile spread across his lips.
He was about to say something, but was cut off by a sneeze.
Then another, and another... it must’ve been five in a row.
I was just about to ask if he was okay when Waffle leapt up, landing on the table in front of him.
Looking like he'd just come face to face with a demon, he jumped up suddenly, pointing a finger at my furball.
“There's a cat on your table!” he shouted.
Wow, really? I almost thanked him for telling me the obvious.
“Do you have to react like that? It's just a kitten.”
“It turns out I'm allergic to cats—” his sentence was interrupted by another sneeze. “— Listen, do you mind taking this animal out of here?”
I couldn't help but smile. It felt like the tables had turned.
“What a thing... Yesterday you found my fear of your dog funny, didn't you?”
“It's not the same!” Another sneeze.
“Of course it is. Your dog could rip a limb from me if he wanted to. What harm could a little thing like Waffle do to anyone?”
Another sequence of three sneezes was his response.
“So dramatic,” I teased, rolling my eyes, which only made him more indignant.
“It’s not drama, it’s an allergy.”
“Fine, I’ll take him to the bedroom, since the presence of such a tiny creature is apparently too much for you to handle.”
Again, he tried to answer but was prevented by another series of sneezes.
I picked up Waffle, taking him off the table and moving away a few steps.
I waited for Michael to stop sneezing before communicating, “I'm just going to take a shower and put on something more presentable. Can you wait for me here?”
“Yeah, I can.” He sat back down. Then he pointed to the bowl of pancakes on the table. “Is it okay if I have one more of those?”
“You can have as many as you want. As long as you leave one for me, I haven't had anything yet.”
He smiled, like a child who had just been given candy, and helped himself to another one of the pancakes.
I confess that I was once again overcome by a feeling of enchantment at the scene. From the sample I had at a meal at his house, I imagined that his breakfast always consisted of a huge table full of all kinds of food. Seeing him enjoy something as simple as a pancake so much was something funny.
But it was funny in a good way.
Before he could catch me spying on him, I took Waffle to the bedroom and finally got ready for my Sunday's appointment.
I had to admit that for something that was just part of my obligation under our agreement, I felt strangely nervous about it.