Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
The hospital hummed with that odd energy somewhere between sleepiness and urgency. There had been a car accident outside of Stirling and a drunken brawl at one of the bars in town. Camilla and Marlon had to wait for a long time to be seen. Camilla let herself lean her head on his shoulder, enjoying the weight of his arm against her back.
Her mind was blissfully empty. She wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.
By the time Marlon’s nose was set and Camilla’s scrapes were checked over, they were both exhausted. Camilla drove back home, and they both shuffled to her bedroom and stripped to their underwear. There was no question of sleeping apart. Camilla knew that Marlon wouldn’t let her out of his sight, and she didn’t want to be any more than an arm’s length away from him anyway.
Camilla woke before Marlon. He slept deeply beside her, snoring loudly with a splint over his face. One hand was on his stomach while the other was thrown across the bed toward her. She slipped out from under his hold and crept downstairs.
The house was silent and cold. She set the coffee machine gurgling and nudged the thermostat a little bit higher, sitting at the kitchen table in the silent stillness.
She didn’t have the energy to bake. She barely had the energy to move. By the time her breakfast was eaten and the coffee carafe was drained, Marlon still hadn’t stirred. She looked in on the master bedroom and considered snuggling under the covers with him, but her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Last night, when they’d pulled into the hospital parking lot, Marlon had held it out for her and growled at her to bring her phone next time she got kidnapped. She’d just pursed her lips and plucked it from his grasp.
It buzzed again. And again.
The screen informed her that Amelia, Lucy, and Scarlett were awake and demanding answers. She huffed and fired off a quick message to tell them to meet her at the bakery. She grabbed some clothing, got dressed, then went downstairs and prepped the coffee maker so it would be ready for Marlon when he woke.
She jotted down a quick note on the pad of paper near the back door. Gone to the bakery , she wrote. Be back soon .
The night had brought a thick blanket of snow to cover the world. Camilla left footprints down the steps and toward her car. She brushed and scraped the night’s offering off of her car while her engine warmed up. Her breath left puffs of white in front of her face, and then she made her way to the bakery.
The world was still. Camilla was suspended in time, unable to think or process, wondering if today would bring more drama and disasters or if she’d finally be free to live her life how she’d always dreamed. As she pulled into her parking spot at the back of the bakery, she hoped it was the latter.
Was it naive to think her nightmare was really over?
The kitchen was warm and familiar, and Camilla looked around in wonder. Everything was just as she left it, but it felt different. Was this place hers now? Would Frankie come and bother her again?
What would Marlon say to her when he woke up?
Slipping into the dining room, she saw that her friends had already arrived. There was a latte waiting for her at the empty seat at their table, and all three of them turned to beckon her forward.
She slumped into her chair. “What do you want to know?”
A while later, when everyone was caught up on the goings-on at the wedding and at the loan shark’s office, Camilla felt a blast of cold air from the entrance of The Sweetest Thing. She turned her head, and her blood chilled.
Frankie Smith stood in the doorway, with his two trusty henchmen a step behind. One of the goons was carrying a big box.
Anger and fear warred within her, but she lifted her head and met his gaze. “What do you want?”
Smith tossed some papers onto the table next to the door. “Our business is done.”
Camilla’s heart was a jackhammer in her chest. She flicked her gaze to the papers and saw the loan discharge paperwork, signed and dated. She looked at the loan shark. Her eyes narrowed.
A cruel, teasing smile curled Smith's lips. “So suspicious of me, Fox.” He scoffed. “You tell that man of yours if he ever threatens me again, he won’t live until the next morning.”
The henchman with the box stepped forward, dropping the box to the ground. Then the three of them turned as one and began to walk away.
“Did you break my window?” Camilla blurted to the loan shark’s back.
Frankie glanced over his shoulder, an amused glint in his eyes. “And why would I do that?”
“So I wouldn’t be able to pay you back.”
Frankie laughed. “Maybe. Maybe not.” He shrugged. “You got it fixed, didn’t you? Why do you care who broke it?”
“Curiosity,” she replied through clenched teeth.
Another laugh, and Frankie walked away. He stood beside the car door his goon had opened for him, cold air separating the two of them. “Don’t blame me if some dumb kids decide to throw rocks, Ms. Fox.” His lips spread to show glinting teeth. “I’m glad you got it fixed. And your oven too. Nice doing business with you. Oh, and by the way, I gave your father my regards this morning. I expect he’ll have questions for you.”
Then he was in the car and safe from the questions crowding against Camilla’s lips. How did he know about the electrical fault in the oven? She stepped back into the warmth of the bakery and watched the men drive away through the new window.
“He definitely broke your window,” Amelia said, scowling. “And messed with your oven.”
“Bastard,” Lucy spat.
“Good riddance,” Scarlett added.
In their emphatic words, Camilla heard something else—hurt. They were worried about her, and they were hurt that she’d never trusted them enough to rely on them. She turned to face her best friends, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry I never told you about my debts. I was ashamed and afraid that if I let you in, you’d turn your backs on me.”
“Never,” Amelia said, tears in her eyes.
“You’re stuck with us,” Lucy added.
Three sets of arms came around her, and part of the wound in Camilla’s heart scabbed over, beginning to heal.
She’d been wrong to hide her mistakes from the people who cared about her. She’d been so focused on being independent that she’d veered into isolation. Now, with her friends around her and Marlon at home, Camilla realized that independence had a price she hadn’t factored into her calculations before.
Being secretive cost her closeness. It cost her the dream of a warm, happy home. It might’ve cost her a family of her own.
She’d endured trials in her life, but Camilla was ready to turn the page. Picking up the loan discharge paperwork, she ignored her friends’ stares as she read through the document, a weight lifting from her shoulders.
Frankie Smith had been her last big mistake.
That was a vow.
And it meant she had to go home and tell Marlon what he meant to her. She had to give up a piece of her independence in exchange for something much better: love, companionship, and a beautiful home.
When she’d found the cake smashed on her bakery floor, she hadn’t been ready to give anything up. But learning that her father had built his business on lies had stripped one last blindfold from her eyes. Now Camilla could see how much weight she’d put on her parents’ opinions, even when she told herself she didn’t care. She felt just how much she’d let shame guide her decisions.
Not anymore.
Now Camilla would choose something infinitely scarier: giving her heart to someone else. If he’d have it.
She left Amelia, Lucy, and Scarlett at the bakery and headed back to the peeling paint and gingerbread trim of her favorite house in Stirling. Buoyed by her friends’ support, Camilla inhaled deeply and followed the footsteps she’d left in the snow to get back to the front door. Stripping off her outwear, she stood at the front door and heard movement in the kitchen.
The ghost of her argument with Marlon still lingered in the air. She regretted everything she’d said. Padding on sock-clad feet down the hardwood floors, she made it to the kitchen and stood in the doorway, watching.
His back was to her. He leaned on the counter and watched the toaster, tension in every line of his body. He knew she was there, but he hadn’t said anything. His mug of coffee was half-finished, sitting next to his clenched right hand.
Camilla felt the gulf between them, but she no longer hesitated. She’d held back for weeks, and Marlon had proven time and time again that he’d be there for her. She’d tried to push him away, and he’d still come back for her. She could no longer deny that she was in love with him, that she could rely on him, that she wanted to make a life with him. She crossed the kitchen and slid her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on the back of his shoulder. She squeezed him tight and said, “I don’t want to move out.”
The hard ball in Marlon’s gut eased all at once. He put a palm over Camilla’s hand and let out a long breath, then turned in the circle of her arms. They held each other in the silence of the warm kitchen until his toast popped up.
Pulling away, Camilla looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Marlon shook his head. “Me too, sweetheart.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. The splint on his face nudged her nose, and a drop of pain splashed across his nose. He pulled away. “You want a slice of toast?”
Camilla nodded, and they slipped into the easy intimacy of domestic life. Marlon kept his hand on Camilla’s thigh as they ate toast and drank coffee, then he refilled their cups and led her to the living room.
On the couch they’d chosen together, he wrapped Camilla in his arms and asked, “Want to know what I wished for on my birthday?”
She turned to meet his gaze. “What?”
He smiled at the woman in his arms, his thumb stroking her shoulder. “I wished you’d stay with me forever.”
Her breath came out in a rush, tears filling her eyes. “I should have told you about my debt and about Frankie. I’m so sorry, Marlon. I was so ashamed of having taken his money in the first place, and I was so used to facing all my problems on my own. I should have trusted you.”
The fading spark of his anger guttered and went out. He shook his head. “You didn’t owe me any information about your business or your finances. I was just trying to take care of you, but I went about it all wrong.”
Thumbing the neckline of his T-shirt, Camilla shook her head. “I haven’t had anyone to take care of me in a long time, Marlon. I’m not sure I remember what it’s supposed to feel like.”
“I guess it feels like someone grabbing your ankles when you’re stuck halfway through a bathroom window.”
She elbowed him in the gut. Hard.
Laughing, Marlon pulled her close and stretched out on the sofa. She lay on top of him, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder. Her hair felt like silk as he ran his fingers through it, over and over again.
“For a long time, I thought pulling away from people was the best option for me.” Marlon stared at the ceiling medallion around the chandelier Camilla had chosen. The room looked beautiful and homey and perfect. “I didn’t make new friends. I kept my employees at a distance. I didn’t date anyone seriously. Didn’t let anyone in. It was easier.”
Camilla remained quiet, a warm weight splayed over his body.
He let out a sigh. “My mother died when I was a teen. I don’t like to talk about her because it makes me angry and sad, and sometimes I just don’t see the point. But she’s one of the reasons I am the way I am.”
Camilla stilled, then lifted her head.
Marlon stroked her hair and gave her a sad smile. “She was an addict. Growing up, Leo and I were either left to our own devices or carted off to our grandparents’ house. I had dreams of her coming back and being like the other kids’ moms, but it never happened. When she died, half of me was relieved and the other half felt like I’d never recover. A couple of years later, when my grandparents died, and then Leo left for college…it was like there was nothing left for me anymore.”
“Oh, Marlon.”
“I had myself convinced it was better to be on my own, to keep people at a distance. I was sick of being left behind, sick of feeling like all the care and love I had for people just fell into a black hole and disappeared. It was easier. But when I saw the footage of that guy shoving you in his car, I realized I was wrong. Taking care of you is everything I want to do. I want you to rely on me. I want to feel the weight of your worries on my shoulders. I want everything with you, Camilla.”
She swallowed thickly, her fingers running along the shoulder seams of his shirt. “I’ve prided myself on being independent for a long time,” she admitted, “but I keep making mistakes. The loan on the bakery was supposed to be my last bad mistake. I’m terrified that I’m jumping right into another one.”
“It feels too good to be together,” Marlon said, understanding, “and you’re afraid that if you have that happiness—and lose it—you won’t be able to go on.”
She glanced up, blue eyes wide. “Yeah. How did you know?”
He smiled softly. “Because I feel the exact same way, sweetheart.”
Gaze flicking between his eyes, Camilla read the expression on his face for a few long moments. Then her breath left her in a gust and she said, “I love you, Marlon.”
Happiness was dawn breaking after a long night. He let his hands coast along her body, every beautiful curve. “I love you too, sweetheart.”
Smiling at him, Camilla traced the shape of his beard with the tips of her fingers. “That feels good to hear,” she whispered. “Say it again.”
“I love you, Camilla.”
Her smile widened, then faded slightly. “But you know, you don’t have to be the one to take care of me. We can take care of each other.”
“Wouldn’t mind waking up to your baking every morning,” Marlon answered with a grin.
“I can do that,” she whispered.
“And banishing tufting wherever we find it.”
“You can just Google what it means, you know.”
Marlon laughed, stroking her body with his hands. “What room should we redecorate next?”
“Your choice,” she whispered and pressed her lips to his. They kissed softly, just barely brushing their lips against each other.
The kiss felt better than Camilla could have imagined, but she didn’t have time to deepen it. Just when Marlon had curled his fingers into Camilla’s hair, there came a knock on the door. Camilla lifted her head, frowning, then dragged herself off of Marlon’s body and went to answer the door.
Her mother and father stood on the stoop, frowning.
“What’s this about you owing Frankie Smith money?” Georgina screech-hissed, glancing around as if one of the neighbors might hear.
“It’s done now,” Camilla said. “I’ve dealt with it.”
“I knew this business of yours was a bad idea,” her father rumbled. “Come home, Camilla. Henry Blackstone Jr. is still in town, I can call him, and we can forget all about this.”
“I’m thirty-three years old, Dad. I’m not moving home.”
“Clearly you need to,” he returned, “if you’re making deals with a scumbag like Frankie Smith.”
“What, like you did?” Camilla shot back, suddenly furious.
How dare he accuse her of the same things he’d done? How dare he try to take the high road when it was his legacy she’d followed?
“I beg your pardon—” Georgina blinked, her hand at her breast.
“I know what you did, Dad,” Camilla said, her voice calm. “I know where your start-up money came from.”
“What are you talking about?” Georgina screeched. “Dean, what is she talking about?”
Dean watched his daughter from the other side of the threshold, measuring. His neck was red, his jaw tight. “I don’t know, dear,” he said to his wife, but his eyes told a different story. Camilla felt a shift in their relationship, a new beginning. Or maybe it was an end.
“I’m going to close this door,” Camilla told them. “I’m going to run my bakery. I’m going to live my life the way I want to. If you’d like to be a part of it, you’re more than welcome, but I will no longer tolerate you trying to push me around. I’ll see you for Christmas dinner, but I have a lot of things to do before then, so I won’t be available until then.”
“Camilla, I never?—”
“Quiet, Georgina,” Dean said, understanding—and maybe respect—flashing through his eyes. “Camilla said she dealt with Frankie. There’s nothing more for us to do here.”
Her mother huffed and puffed, and her father led her away. Camilla watched them, cold air snapping at her clothes, and then she closed the door.
Marlon stood leaning against the wall behind her, just out of sight of the door. He arched a dark brow. “You okay?”
Camilla scanned her body, assessing. A gust of wind made the walls around her creak, and she felt a rush of warmth and comfort. She was home.
Smiling at the man she was sure she’d marry someday soon, Camilla nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m good.”
He glanced at the box by the front door and, seeing it for the first time, frowned.
Camilla followed his gaze. “Oh. That’s from Frankie. Nice of him to give you your gear back, seeing as you threatened him with your recordings and all.”
At her words, a funny light entered Marlon’s gaze, and Camilla frowned. “You did have recordings, right?” she asked.
Marlon crossed the distance between them and wrapped her in his arms. “What I have or don’t have is no concern of Frankie’s.”
She gaped. “You were bluffing ?”
Marlon laughed, squeezing her closer.
“Unbelievable,” she huffed, but she couldn’t help the smile from curving her lips.
Marlon leaned his forehead against hers. “I get that a lot.”
Laughing, Camilla pulled him down for a kiss.
When they came back up for air, he murmured against her lips, “Tell me you’ll stay.”
Her smile bloomed. “Okay. But Marlon?”
“Hmm?”
“There’s no take-backsies. You won’t be able to get rid of me now.”
He grinned. “That goes both ways, sweetheart.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and dragged him down to kiss him with all the love in her heart. A love he’d awakened, and nurtured, and cherished. A love she hoped they’d share for the rest of their lives.