Chapter 8
eight
Cameron
Ifeel like I need to shake my head again or rub vigorously at my eyes to make sure she’s not a figment of my imagination.
I knew Rosalie was heading this way on her drive the other night, but I only hoped she would live close enough that we could see each other again.
I never imagined she would be living in my hometown, let alone standing here with one of my closest friends.
Elodie cocks her head at my “Dr. Rosalie” comment and slowly turns to Rosalie, whose face is an adorable shade of pink, and then back to me.
“Cameron.” It’s said slowly with a curious lilt.
“Yes?” I drawl.
“How do you know Dr. Whittington?”
I see Rosalie’s face twitch, and I can’t tell if it’s because Elodie has unwittingly given me her last name or because she’s finding it humorous that I’m going to have to explain how we met.
“Well, you see,” I start with a dramatic flair, “I was driving home from Carlsburg the other night when I saw this damsel in distress on the side of the road.” I hear Rosalie scoff and I turn my gaze to her just long enough to see it’s paired with a disbelieving smile and a raised eyebrow, so I continue.
“Her tire was completely blown, and she had no clue how to fix it. I, being so incredibly chivalrous, pulled over and used my manly muscles to help her change it.”
At this, Rosalie can’t help but double over in laughter. She and I are both well aware that’s not how our meeting went down. At all.
“Okay there, Mr. Darcy,” Elodie retorts. “Based on Rosalie’s reaction, I’m guessing that’s not actually what happened.”
She turns to Rosalie, who can barely breathe through her laughter.
“Care to share what really happened?” she asks, looking expectantly at her.
Rosalie takes a deep breath and shakes her head at me in disbelief before focusing on Elodie.
“His story isn’t entirely inaccurate.”
“Ha,” I say to Elodie, crossing my arms in triumph.
Rosalie clears her throat loudly, effectively pulling our attention back to her as she continues. “But I was far from being in distress and he left out the part where he hit his head on the chassis of my truck while helping retrieve my spare tire.”
At this, she gestures to the slightly yellowish bruise I still have on my forehead, and I impulsively reach up to rub at it.
Elodie’s gaze is jumping back and forth between us, and Kara is leaning even farther over the welcome desk, mouth agape at the entertainment we’re providing.
“Okay,” Elodie says slowly. “So, did you come here to see Rosalie?”
Rosalie’s face immediately drops at the comment, and I can only imagine what she’s thinking. If Elodie jumped to this conclusion, I’m sure the thought is crossing Rosalie’s mind, too.
“Oh no, definitely not,” I say reassuringly. “I had no clue Rosalie lived in Winhaven, let alone worked here. I came to meet Mr. Faegan. He requested I drop off some files in person.”
Elodie shakes her head. “Of course he did.”
It appears Mr. Faegan has the same difficult reputation here as he does with us.
“Um, excuse me,” Rosalie says. “I’m so glad we cleared up how Cameron and I met, but may I ask how the two of you know each other?”
I shoot Elodie a look that I hope conveys she share only the bare minimum, rather than our whole intertwined life story. I’m not ashamed of my past, and it’s been long enough that I can handle when others bring up my loss, but I hate the pitying look they give me when they find out I’m a widower.
Luckily, Elodie seems to read my hesitation.
“Cameron and I went to high school together. We were part of the same social circle and became close when he dated one of my best friends.”
She leaves out the part where I fell in love with her friend, married her, had a beautiful daughter, and had a wonderful life before she was diagnosed with cancer and was taken from us.
I subtly dip my head to Elodie in gratitude.
“Huh,” Rosalie says, clearly mulling over this new information. She looks as if she’s about to speak when a booming voice comes from behind us.
“Mr. Brown, I’m so glad you were able to make time to meet me today.”
Elodie winces, placing her hand on my shoulder with a muttered, “good luck,” as she backs away.
Rosalie’s eyes catch mine and she raises her hand with a quick wave and follows Elodie’s lead, making a quick exit from the lobby.
“It was good to see you again, Cameron.”
I’m about to respond with a wave of my own, but just as I raise my hand, a meaty palm connects with mine and gives it a rough shake. Reluctantly, I pull my gaze away from Rosalie and focus on the man in front of me.
“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Faegan. I’m glad this worked out. I have the files you discussed with Tom. We can head over here to look them over and get them signed,” I say, gesturing to one of the tables nearby.
As we sort through the papers, Mr. Faegan signs each one without even looking over them thoroughly, and my mind drifts back to Rosalie. I’m still in shock. What are the chances she’d live in my hometown?
I’m mindlessly watching the tip of the pen glide over each page when I feel a presence at my back.
Optimistic it’s Rosalie, I turn quickly in my chair only to be faced with Elodie’s other colleague, Rowan.
He’s quite the broody bastard, but we’ve hung out a time or two at the Bluegrass Brewery and Pub and, contrary to what Elodie thinks, he’s not all bad.
“Cameron,” he says, slapping my back a bit forcefully, although I don’t think it was intentional.
“Rowan,” I reply, sticking out my hand for a shake.
“Mind if I borrow Mr. Faegan here? I have his stud, Dudley, back here and I need to go over a few things with him.”
He named his stud Dudley?
It takes everything in me not to snicker.
And it appears I’m not the only one trying to hold it together, as even Rowan has his hand over what I assume is his version of a smile.
Who in their right mind wants a stud with the name Dud in it?
If I had a stud, I would name him something more promising, like The Finisher or Straight Shooter. Anything is better than Dudley.
Gathering my professionalism, I turn to Mr. Faegan, who is already stuffing the signed papers back into the folder and shoving them toward me. “Of course not. Mr. Faegan, do you have any questions?”
“Nope, none. Well done.” He grabs my hand once again and rapidly pumps it up and down before turning to Rowan, who leads him away.
Well, I’ve never been given that level of compliment from Mr. Faegan before, although I think it has more to do with his excitement over whatever Rowan has to say. Regardless, I take it as a win.
I give one more hopeful glance toward the hall where Rosalie and Elodie disappeared before waving to Kara and heading for my Jeep.