Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
OBVIOUSLY
CAMDEN
Dad
It’s quiet up in here. What’s everyone doing?
Dylan
I don’t want to be awake yet. Oh, hey, I booked my ticket for two weeks from now, so get ready for the fun to begin.
Goldie
Are you insinuating that we’re not already having fun?
Dylan
Not without me, you’re not
Goldie
Sigh. True.
Camden
Can’t get more fun than this.
Tully
Speak for yourself. About to hit the ice.
Noah
It’s been a great day off so far. Wish me luck though. He’s talked me into going to Nickelodeon Universe today.
Dad
Have fun, you guys! Thanks for letting me know you’re all alive. Speaking of fun, has anyone else noticed how happy Camden’s been lately? Every time I see him, he’s smiling. Whatever’s got you in such a good mood, son, keep it up!
I blink at the phone. What is Dad implying here? Have I really been that obvious? He can’t possibly know anything, right? We haven’t even been around the family very much since we got together.
I drift off, smiling as I think about last night.
Shit. I am being fucking obvious!
I park at The Hungry Walleye five minutes early.
Juju’s actually the one who came up with the plan.
I’ll go inside and get fries and a drink to go, and while I’m inside, Juju will get inside my SUV and lay low until I’m out there.
Everything seems to be going as planned until Sandy walks in and asks ten thousand questions about my dad.
I swear, I think she’s upset that he’s feeling so much better because she doesn’t have an excuse to bring him hotdish anymore.
When I finally get in the car, I laugh because Juju’s huddled on the floor on the passenger side.
“What are you doing down there?” I ask. “Are you freezing?”
It’s so cold today.
“I wanted to maintain the secret,” she grumbles. “And yes, I’m freezing. This sweater dress isn’t doing very much for me right now.”
“Where’s your coat?”
“I wanted to look cute when you got in and accidentally put it in the back…and then I was afraid someone would see me if I tried to grab it.”
I start the car and get the heat going, hurriedly pulling out onto Wildbriar Lane.
“I’m so sorry. Sandy was chatty. You look so hot in that dress. Get up here so I can get a better look at you. I love it. Please come sit by me.”
She lifts up and peeks out the window. “Is it safe?”
“It’s safe,” I say, speeding up a little so we can get past the shops.
She sits in her seat, and I reach back and hand her the little bouquet of white roses I picked up for her earlier. She admires them and then brings them to her nose.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “Are you trying to dazzle me, Whitman?”
“Is it working?” I ask.
She smirks, scraping her thumb over my knuckles when I rest my hand on the console. The touch short-circuits me. I leave my hand there anyway, and when she plays with my knuckles again, I thread our fingers together.
We take the highway along the dark ribbon of water, Juju’s playlist humming low. She points things out along the way.
“There’s the bridge Uncle Hal convinced Papa Hector to climb.”
“Yikes. How did that turn out?”
“He did it, but never ever wanted to do it again.”
And a little later…
“That’s the billboard where Erin swears she’ll start a dating site. Each week will have a different starter, and whoever comes up with the best responses gets matched up with…” She pauses. “Yeah, I’m not sure how she thought that would work out. There are definitely flaws in the system.”
I counter with restaurant gossip, famous chef arguments, and the many ridiculous questions I’ve fielded. “Yes, ma’am, I’m positive this water doesn’t have calories.”
We roll into the city in no time and decide to go straight to the restaurant, since we’re so hungry.
We leave the car with the valet and hurry inside.
I offer my arm, and she takes it like this is a thing we do.
I love being able to do this freely. Inside, the place hums—low light, dark wood, whispers of money.
The host recognizes me and does that subtle double take.
I put my hand on Juju’s back, and we’re led to a corner table.
“Champagne?” I ask.
“Absolutely,” she says, and I order a bottle I love.
The first course arrives perfectly plated: shaved fennel and pear, tiny curls of pecorino, a drizzle of something that smells delicious.
Juju looks at it, reverent and eager. I see her when we were kids and I see the gorgeous woman she is now, and it’s like Cupid’s arrow to my chest. It makes me feel drunk inside.
We take bites and quickly deconstruct the dish, listing the spices they used.
“I used to want to hate that you were a food snob,” she says, “but I’ve always secretly liked it. And I like when you teach me things.”
“Snob is a harsh word,” I say, spearing a sliver of pear and offering it across the table.
She leans forward and bites from my fork, lips closing around pear and the tip of steel, eyes on mine.
I feel it in the soles of my feet. And elsewhere, where my pants are now tight.
“And you’ve taught me just as much, if not more—trust me. ”
“That’s sweet of you to say. Do you approve of the word connoisseur more?” she asks.
“That’s acceptable.” I grin. “And you’re the connoisseur of joy. Which is much harder.”
She tilts her head. “Is that how you felt when I used to bite your head off? That I’m a connoisseur of joy?”
That makes me laugh, and it takes me a second to respond. “No, I can’t say that was the word that came to mind.”
“Hmm. Is irresistible better?”
“We’re getting closer to the target, yes.”
She grins. “I still feel like rolling my eyes at you sometimes.”
“How about we negotiate about the right words to use and kiss until we’re asked to leave?”
“I don’t hate the sound of that,” she says, her eyes softening.
The next plates arrive—scallops in citrus, risotto, and a beautiful steak. We share everything. She narrates each bite: “Whitman goes in hard with the succulent scallops—oh! He’s stunned, folks. He’s stunned!” I’m laughing too hard to pretend I’m not absolutely gone for her.
Between courses, we talk about Tully’s game tomorrow, how he gets in his head before games.
We talk about her parents deciding to spend more time in Windy Harbor, the way it makes her feel anchored and weirdly like she’s twelve again.
I tell her that I still sometimes set too many plates at my dad’s table out of habit, one for my mom.
She slips her foot over my ankle beneath the table and leaves it there.
“My mom still does the birthday ritual they did every year for their birthdays,” she says.
“She goes to Cafe Latte and gets the latte and cake they always got, and then she stops at all the shops that are still around that they went to. I’ve tried to go with her for the past few years, since I’ve been living near her again.
She breaks down at least once every time. ”
“I didn’t know that,” I say, touched. “Wow. They had a special bond, didn’t they.” I smile at her. “Our families were meant to know each other.”
“Imagine if we’d moved onto another street,” she says, lifting her shoulder.
“I believe we still would’ve met.”
“I like this,” she says softly. “Us. Out in the wild.”
“Me too.”
We enjoy our dessert and then make our way to the hotel.
“Would you like a drink before we go to our room?” I ask when we walk into the lobby.
“I think I’m good, but let’s get something if you want it. You get so little time out to enjoy other restaurants.”
“I’d much rather enjoy you,” I tell her.
“You can enjoy me anywhere,” she says, her lips lifting up.
My eyes widen as I grin and stare at her mouth. “Yeah? I can put my head between your legs at the bar?” I say under my breath.
Her mouth parts and her cheeks flush, and I fucking love it.
“We better get to the room…fast,” she says breathlessly.
My chest rumbles with my laugh, and I tug her tighter against me, kissing her hair.
“Great answer. Because I’d love to see you naked against the window…
or bent over the bed…or buried in the covers as I work my way up from your toes to your mouth…
and everywhere in between. I’ve heard there are brick walls, massive showers and tubs, and the softest comforters…
I’ve already imagined you in all the places. ”
I hear her breath hitch and get that rush knowing that my words affect her.
The elevator is full when we step inside. She stands in front of me, and I pull her against my chest. My hands slide to her hips. I love how my hands fit perfectly in the curve of her hips.
She leans back and tugs my head down, whispering in my ear, “We’re going to be quiet, right?” she murmurs, playful. “Just in case our neighbors are nosy?”
“I can’t promise anything,” I say, and when the doors slide open, we almost don’t make it to the room before we’re kissing, laughter muffled with mouths and hands.
Inside, she lets go of me, leaving me breathless and adjusting myself as she moves through the room like she owns it.
The bed is a white ocean, and she touches the comforter, nodding her approval.
She walks to the window overlooking the city and traces the brick wall next to it, turning to give me a flirtatious, daring look.
I am so gone over this woman.
“Where would you like me first?” she asks.
I run my hand over my jaw, looking her over, and stalk toward her.
“Right here will do.” I tug her hair back, and her face lifts for me to take her mouth. Our tongues tangle together, our hands everywhere all at once.
I break from her suddenly and get on my knees, unable to wait another second.