Chapter Two
Camille
My knuckles connected with the wood of Abby’s door three consecutive times, and then I waited, holding the pasta maker Abby had let me borrow in the other arm. Since my sister-in-law had become a mother, it was an unspoken rule to knock instead of ringing the doorbell, especially around lunch time. The twins were now in second grade, but for years, interrupting a nap was a mortal sin, and the habit remained. I looked down at my hands, the letters Trenton had inked on them a bit faded but still read BABY DOLL beautifully. I rubbed my thumb over the letters for comfort, knowing Liis would also be inside, visiting for the weekend.
After a full two minutes, I slowly turned the knob, poking my head in. Except for muted voices, the house was quiet, the kitchen light bleeding into the dim living room. The sudden worry that the twins could be home sick and resting popped into my head, so instead of risking waking up my niece and nephew with more knocking, I let myself in, calling softly to Abby the second she and Liis were in view. Abby was seated at the dining room table—albeit scooted back just enough to make room for her growing baby bump—staring at one of the many papers scattered in front of her. Liis was standing, pointing at something that seemed of interest. They were both at different stages of pregnancy, and for a moment, I just stood there, taking in the moment.
Abby’s glow was undeniable, a serene warmth that only enhanced her natural confidence as a mother. It looked like a scene in an oil painting, Abby surrounded by framed photos, plants, drawings hanging from the fridge. Liis, on the other hand, carried her pregnancy with the same sharp determination she did everything else. Even as she gestured to something on the table, her movements were precise, purposeful—like she’d mapped out every step of her new chapter in life.
It should have hurt more, the realization that Liis could effortlessly build a family with Thomas when Trenton and I couldn’t seem to catch a break. But it didn’t. Not in the way I’d feared. When Liis and Thomas announced their pregnancy, I’d braced myself for the sharp pang of jealousy that usually followed those moments, but it never came. Maybe it was because Liis had never been the type to have the same dreams of children that I had. Her pregnancy felt more like a surprise plot twist than a golden ticket.
Toto trotted over to me, collar jingling. He’d only boofed once. Even he knew better than to make noise when the babies were sleeping. That, and he was getting older, blind in one eye and moving slower, preferring quiet pats over his once-legendary bark-a-thons.
“Abby? Sorry. I just let myself in. I didn’t want to knock again.”
Abby pushed herself to stand and looked at her watch, walking toward me as Liis gathered the papers and put them in a file folder. “Oh my gosh, is it one already? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the door. Lena always insisted on answering it when she was our nanny, and I can’t seem to get back into the habit.”
“Oh, that’s right,” I said softly, remembering the whirlwind when Lena left with barely any notice. “How are the kids adjusting?”
“They miss her,” Abby replied. “I miss her, too,” she added. There was a rawness to her tone, a vulnerability she didn’t often let slip through.
“I’m sorry. If you need help, please call me. I’m not the kid whisperer that Lena was, but I have other useful talents. I’m especially good at answering doors.”
Abby breathed out a laugh.
“How’s the morning sickness?” I asked, walking with her to the kitchen.
“I haven’t had any for a while, thank God,” she said, mindlessly touching her middle. “It was brutal this time around.”
I set the pasta maker down on the counter. “Thank you.”
Abby smiled. “No sense in you spending the money when I have one. How was the Bucatini?”
“Well, I didn’t totally screw it up, so I call that a win. Are you doing taxes or something?”
“Oh,” Abby said, glancing back at the table.
Liis took a few steps toward me and gave me a hug. It took me a few seconds to recover because Liis wasn’t a hugger, but more importantly, I used to be in love with the man who had been her boyfriend for the better part of a decade—and now father of the child growing safe and warm inside her growing silhouette—Thomas Maddox. Yes, my husband’s brother. Moving on…
“So, the new recipe went well?” Liis asked, far too enthusiastic to see me. “That’s great. How’s Trent?”
“Trent’s good. He’s at work. Full schedule today,” I said, nodding while silently begging my face not to betray the extreme awkwardness I felt.
Liis’s smile didn’t fade. “I hear business has been booming since Bishop mentioned the shop on that show.”
“Yeah, people come in from all over the country now. Trent is booked months out. They asked him to be part of the show, you know, but that would’ve meant moving to Vegas, and we weren’t comfortable moving that far from Jim, but then it didn’t matter anyway because the show got cancelled, so…”
It was painful. There the three of us were, standing in a semi-circle, fake smiling at each other like weirdos.
“Speaking of that, I really should get back,” I said.
Abby walked to the door and opened it. “Trent says that place doesn’t run without you.”
“Accurate. Thanks!” I walked out too quickly. Fueled by humiliation alone, I practically jogged to my 4Runner.
I gripped the steering wheel and let my forehead fall against my hands.
For fuck’s sake, Cami. Get it together. You’ve been part of this family for years! Thomas and Liis have a perfect life. So do you, because you’re married to your soulmate who would move Heaven and Earth to make you happy. It’s all in the past. We’ve all moved passed it. It’s fine. You’re the black sheep of the family and everyone hates you, but it’s fine .
I drove to Skin Deep, trying not to obsess about who was awkward first, who was more awkward, and if they closed the door and laughed after I all but sprinted to the driveway. The Maddoxes had multiple family functions a year. We were a tight knit group. I wasn’t exactly calling Liis to swap recipes, but the brothers all spoke on the phone several times a week, almost always on speaker. The wives would say hi and engage in the conversation. So, what. the fuck. was that?
“Hi, baby doll!” Trenton said, walking toward me with his arms wide open.
I hugged him, buried my face in his neck for half a second, and then put my game face on. After glancing at the clock, I walked behind the desk and scanned the computer for the next appointments.
Skin Deep was an entire dimension from what it was on my first day. The Chinese restaurant decorations were long gone. The finishes were now industrial, black paint for the walls and exposed pipes and vents, corrugated metal sheet accents, and high shine, blonde wood floors. The artists’ rooms had better lighting, better chairs, and Trenton’s favorite, better equipment. Fresh paint was the easiest part of the remodel; updating the software to make the booking and check-in process more efficient was the most difficult. Now, there were touch-screen kiosks waiting at the desk with digital forms and waivers, interactive flat screens on the wall with each of the artists’ portfolios, examples of fonts, Chinese and Japanese symbols, and other most- requested art. The aftercare instructions were automatically emailed and texted, as well as scheduling. Even the sanitation and disinfecting procedures were now streamlined.
Calvin was the owner, but Skin Deep was my second home. Once business picked up, I was promoted to full-time and then manager, hiring two new artists, Sylvie and Beck. Even Calvin would agree that I had turned that place from a dive into a thriving business, but I was glad that no one but Hazel ever mentioned why.
Hazel followed her client from her room, smiling and chatting before showing her out the glass double doors. “Where have you been?” she said as she turned around. “I can never figure out how to get those damn waivers to move to the next page when that ratty ass software doesn’t do it automatically. Yeah, you dropped out of college but you’re still smarter than the rest of us.”
I cringed. Only Hazel mentions it, but she does it enough for everyone.
After the accident, I understood why Trenton couldn’t go back to college. Eastern State’s campus was small, but the town felt smaller. By the time I was discharged from the hospital, everyone knew that Trenton Maddox had gotten into a car with me behind the wheel—the man who refused to let a woman drive him again after he’d been in a fatal accident with his then-girlfriend Mackenzie Davis—for us to then get T-boned by a drunk driver. I couldn’t stand the thoughts of the stares, the whispers, the looks of pity for Trenton, who carried me for miles with a broken arm and refused to leave me even after he learned the other man I was in love with was his own brother.
That was why I focused so hard on transforming Skin Deep. I needed to succeed. I needed to be known for something other than the bartender who bounced between two Maddox brothers and nearly got one killed.
“I told you she was at lunch,” Trenton said, playfully nudging Hazel with his elbow. “And I was here to fix it for you. As usual.”
Hazel’s eyes rolled behind her thick, red-rimmed glasses. “He couldn’t figure it out, either.”
“I did, too!” Trenton said, feigning insult.
Hazel leaned over, holding her hand to the side of her mouth as if she wasn’t planning to speak loud enough for Trenton to hear. “I don’t know how it moved to the next page, but it wasn’t anything he did.”
“Ashton called while you were impaling that chick’s face,” Trenton said.
“It was a bridge piercing, you…” Hazel’s eyes brightened. “Wait. Ashton? She did?”
“No.”
“ Ugh . You’re the worst,” she said, her expression instantly falling.
I smiled as I scrolled through the computer. “She’ll call.”
“I know, because they always call,” Hazel said, disappearing back to her room.
Trenton rushed me from behind and wrapped his arms around my waist, kissing my neck. “How were the girls?”
“It was… weird.”
His hands dropped to his thighs. “Weird? Weird how?”
I shrugged, pretending I wasn’t utterly mortified. “I don’t know. They were in the middle of something. I just dropped off the pasta maker and left.”
He waited a beat, dubious. “Zero words. You dropped it off and just… left.”
“No. There were words. Just awkward words. It was awkward.”
“Cami—”
“I know. I know it shouldn’t be, years later. I completely, totally agree with you. But it is. It’s weird. And awkward.”
“What’s awkward?” Hazel asked, climbing onto the stool behind me.
“Something was awkward?” Sylvie said, rounding the corner.
“Beck was looking for you,” Hazel said, waving her away.
Sylvie’s russet eyes widened. “Damn. Sorry I spoke.”
Sylvie’s tightly woven cornrows faded from deep purple into turquoise in a smooth gradient, braided from her hairline into a sleek faux hawk before cascading down to the middle of her back. As she abruptly turned on her heels, her braids snapped over her shoulder before settling behind her. She was one of two new artists I’d hired since taking over—the other being her slightly younger brother, Beck.
I frowned. “That was rude. And you have a client waiting,” I said, turning to face her. “She’s been waiting, actually.”
Hazel was unfazed. “I'm just trying to hear this story before I grow old, and my corpse starts decomposing.”
“It was awkward with her and Abby,” Trenton said.
“What?” Hazel said, her already high voice going up an octave.
“Liis was there,” I said.
Hazel’s eyes widened. “Ooooooh.”
“So?” Trenton said, shrugging one shoulder.
“Trenty poo,” Hazel began, “we all know you want to pretend what happened didn’t happen, okay? I get it. But it did. No one talks about it because you want to pretend it didn’t. So, it’s gonna be… well, like Cami has said thirty-seven times in the last three minutes… awkward.”
Trenton’s nose wrinkled. “Why are you two repeating words like you’re Dr. fucking Suess? And what happened? With her and Tommy? It’s not that I want to pretend it didn’t, I just don’t care. No one cares.”
“Liis cares,” Hazel deadpanned. “And that’s not Suess. Suess rhymes.”
“He also repeats words,” I said. “You have a client.”
“It’s a VCH,” Hazel said quietly. “I promise you she’s in no rush to get her clit pierced.” She smiled and waved to the fifty-something woman waiting patiently in the corner. “Be there in a minute, Kate!”
“No rush,” Kate said. She smiled while checking the top button of the white Oxford she wore under a pastel pink cashmere sweater.
Hazel turned to Trenton again. “Told ya. Listen, it’s an unresolved family matter. Everyone pretends it’s okay when the guys are together, but when the wives get together, it’s… there. Am I wrong?” She looked to me, so Trenton did, too.
My eyes bounced between them both. “It’s… like I said, it’s just…”
“Awkward, yeah, we know,” Hazel said, bored. “Why, though? I know why it’s weird for Liis, but why is it for you? Are you still in love with Thomas?”
“Hazel, what the hell?” I said, the blood under my cheeks boiling.
“It’s a simple question.” Hazel blinked, trying to look innocent, but she loved drama. She wasn’t the least bit concerned with how it made me feel, not because she was mean, but because she knew that I knew she’d kill someone for me, and with that knowledge, her antics weren’t malicious. She wasn’t asking to judge me, she just wanted to know because she was a nosy bitch—albeit a cute one—with no sense of personal boundaries.
“He’s my brother-in-law and my ex-boyfriend. Yes, it’s complicated. Most people don’t spend the holidays with their exes. But not even when I had feelings for him was it the same way I love Trent. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love Trent.”
“And that’s why no one cares,” Trenton said, kissing my forehead. “Chet, you’re up!” he said, calling to a man in the lobby.
“Wait, he’s not on the…” I said, scrolling on the computer screen.
“I’m a walk-in,” Chet said with a thick Jersey accent, grinning at me as he followed Trenton into his room.
“We don’t take walk-ins,” I said, looking at Hazel and pointing to the hall. “Do you know that guy?”
“He’s one the new trainers at IronE,” she said, staring at the hall they disappeared into. “Maybe it’s a favor for Travis. Okay, Kate, I’m ready for you!”
I jumped off my stool and trotted back to Trenton’s room. Chet was reclined in the chair while Trenton was setting up his tray.
“You have a client in twenty minutes. Beck is free.”
“We’ll be done by then.”
I blinked, locked eyes with Chet for a few seconds, and then turned to walk out.
“Love you, baby,” Trenton called after me.
“Don’t tell me that’s your wife,” Chet said with a chuckle.
“Yeah, she’s mine, and don’t say what you’re gonna say, or I’ll throat punch you.”
“Don’t forget, I know your brother, buddy. I ain’t stupid,” Chet said.
I paused at the mirror beside my desk, studying my reflection. When Trenton and I started our not-exactly-just-friends relationship, my skin was untouched, free of piercings, with a plain brown bob and heavy bangs. Now, the only thing that hadn’t changed was my hair, sans the darker color of brown and razored ends. Beyond the BABY DOLL ink on my fingers and the poppies on my shoulder, I’d let Trenton add more of his art to my back and arms. Two of my favorites marked the milestones of our lives together—one for the day we’d survived the accident, the other to commemorate our wedding. They were bold and intricate, sprawling across half my arm and back, made even more special by the fact that Trenton was the only one who’d ever inked my skin. Once, on a Vegas trip with his twin brothers, Taylor drunkenly suggested we all get matching tattoos. But Trenton and I, even after a few too many drinks, fiercely agreed: no one else would ever mark my skin.
“Hi,” a woman said from the other side of the desk. “I’m Madison Davis. I have an appointment with Trent.”
“Great,” I said with a smile. “Just tap start on the kiosk and it will take you through all the steps to check in.”
After a few seconds, I looked up to see Madison still staring at me. She was stunning, early twenties, with big, brown doe eyes that seemed to be taking in every detail. Her honey brown hair fell in soft waves nearly to the crests of her hips. She looked vaguely familiar, but I knew I’d never met her before. From social media, maybe?
“Do you need help with the check-in process?”
“No,” she said with a small smile, shaking her head quickly. She looked down, tapping through the forms and waivers.
“Hey, Cami?” Beck said, rounding the corner—then he saw Madison. His expression did a full one-eighty, from serious inquiry to walking Tinder profile.
“Well, hello there,” he purred, suddenly a cologne commercial.
I side-eyed him. His voice wasn’t normally that deep.
Beck was tall, built like the gym owed him money, and had the kind of face that made people double back for a second look—sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and deep brown skin that held a rich, smooth glow even under the dim lighting. His eyes, dark and knowing, carried the confidence of a man who never had to chase—because women were always happy to meet him halfway. A notorious ladies’ man, he had a reputation for smooth talk and even smoother exits. His exes still talked about him like he was a limited-edition release they were lucky to have experienced even once.
His hair was always cropped short in a crisp fade, thanks to a standing appointment with his barber, and he never missed a trim. He strolled closer, wearing a fitted black hoodie layered under a distressed denim jacket, a heavy silver chain that caught the light at his collarbone, and his ripped black jeans tucked into a pair of clean, high-top Jordans. Beck was everyone’s favorite friend, favorite Friday night, and favorite this guy once ...
Almost everyone.
Madison looked up once and then back down at the kiosk. “Hey.”
Beck blinked, then looked at me, confused.
I shrugged.
Trenton came out with Chet, pulling off his gloves as they walked.
“Thanks, my guy, I appreciate it,” Chet said, waving at me before walking out.
“He’s not paying? Please don’t tell me it’s coming out of your check.” I looked back to Trenton, but he didn’t hear me. He was staring at his next client like he was staring at a ghost.
“Hi, Trent,” Madison said, biting her bottom lip in anticipation.
“Wha—Whoa. Are you… Maddie?” he asked, shocked.
Beck and I traded glances.
She grinned from ear to ear and then nodded her head quickly.
“Oh my God,” he said, opening his arms wide. “You look so much like Kenzie!”
Madison ran around the desk and jumped into Trenton’s arms, wrapping herself around his neck and locking her legs around his waist. Trenton held her tight, turning side to side. They traded a few greetings, Oh my Gods, I knows, and I can’t believe its , and then Trenton snapped out of it and opened one eye to look at me.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Time for me to go,” Beck said.
His other eye popped open and then he set her on the ground. “Babe… this is Maddie!” He pointed at her with all his fingers and waited as if at any moment I would recognize her and understand that it was all totally normal another woman had my husband sandwiched between her thighs.
Trenton took a few steps toward me, showing me his left forearm. “Maddie!” he said, pointing to the small script that read Mackenzie he’d had tattooed on his arm almost a decade ago. When I still seemed confused, he hugged her to his side. “Maddie is Mackenzie’s baby sister!” He looked to her, placing his palm on the top of his head. “Holy shit. You’re my next client? I can’t believe you’re even old enough to get a tattoo. I still remember you as like ten.” He removed his hand from his hair and held it in front of him, waist high.
“Eleven,” she said, still all smiles. “Just turned twenty-three,” she added, simultaneously—and maybe unconsciously—puffing out her perky tits to prove it, “and, of course, my first ink had to be you.”
A lot of women wanted Trenton to pop their ink cherry, the same way he had mine, and many of them were as stunning as Madison.
But none of them had wrapped their legs around my husband.
“You’re like… a whole ass adult now. Can you believe this, Cami?” Trenton asked, folding his fingers on top of his head while he stared at Madison in disbelief. “Oh, shit… come on back. We can catch up back there. Do you have an idea what you want?”
“I know exactly what I want.”
They chatted as they disappeared into the hall and back to his room.
Hazel rounded the corner.
“You did not just leave your client to eavesdrop,” I snapped.
“I know, but I heard the commotion, and then I saw what I saw, and I can’t unsee what I saw and I have to know how you feel about what I just saw.”
“Not now,” I seethed.
Hazel’s eyes widened and she folded her lips in before making a popping sound when she opened them again. “Oooookay then,” she said, retreating to her room. On the way back, I heard her hiss at Trenton, “You’re fucked.”
Seconds later, Trenton came out, still gloved up. “Everything okay?”
I instantly grinned and turned to him. “Everything’s fine.”
“Oh, shit. W-What did I do?”
“I’ll tell you later,” I said, still grinning.
I turned to face the computer, and then Trenton sighed as if the air had been knocked out of him.
“I’m fucked,” he said, returning to his room.