Chapter 9 #5
The admission lodged in my chest, a tender ache for the boy he must have been. Always having to adjust, always watching for clues about how to belong to the latest iteration of his own family.
"You don't have to do that with me," I said softly. "I like the real Cam."
His eyes found mine, intense and searching. "Do you even know who that is?"
The question was weighted with more meaning than I was prepared to face.
Because the truth was, I wasn't sure I did know the real Cam.
At least not fully. I'd spent so much time filling in the blanks in my own mind after that night in Boston so many years ago, and then crafting an image of him for public consumption so vivid I believed it myself, that I'd really never properly looked below the surface.
"I'm starting to," I said honestly.
A small smile curved his lips. "Better late than never, I guess."
The sun was nearly gone now, just a sliver of fiery pink on the horizon, the sky deepening to purple above us. A solitary gull flew overhead, its cry echoing across the water as it banked toward the distant pier.
"It's beautiful here," Cam murmured, his gaze following the bird's flight. "Peaceful. I see why your family has held onto this place for so long."
"It's my favorite spot in the world," I admitted. "No matter how crazy life gets, I always feel calm here."
"Even with me disrupting your calm?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice.
I looked up at him, really looked, taking in the relaxed set of his shoulders, the softening around his eyes, the way the fading light gilded his profile with burnished gold.
"You're not disrupting anything," I said softly. "You fit here."
His eyes met mine, and something electric passed between us – a recognition, a possibility, a bridge spanning the careful distance we'd maintained.
He took a half step closer, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, smell the subtle notes of his cologne mingling with salt air. .
"Lana," he said, my name little more than a breath. He raised his hand, gently brushing a strand of hair from my face, his fingertips grazing my cheek. "You have sand..."
The touch was brief, but it sent shivers racing down my body, cheeks flushed, nipples hardening, goosebumps rising on my arms despite the lingering warmth of the day.
His hand lingered, cupping my face with a tenderness that made my heart stutter.
Time seemed to slow, the space between us charged with something fragile and dangerous and inevitable.
He leaned in, his eyes never leaving mine, giving me every opportunity to pull away.
But I didn't. I couldn't. Some magnetic force held me in place, tilting my face up to his, my breath catching his in anticipation.
The universe suddenly narrowed to just us: his face inches from mine, the warm brush of his breath against my lips, the roar of blood in my ears drowning out even the sound of the waves.
His lips hovered a breath away from mine "Is this okay?" he murmured, his voice rough with a want that mirrored the ache building in my own chest.
Reality crashed back with jarring suddenness. What was I doing? This wasn't part of the plan. This wasn't pretending for an audience. We were alone on the beach, no cameras, no family watching. Just us. Just real.
I stepped back abruptly, breaking the connection, a sudden emptiness filling the space Cam had filled just seconds before. "We should head back," I said, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears. "It's getting dark."
Confusion flickered across his face, followed by something that might have been hurt before he masked it with a careful neutrality. "Right," he said. "Of course."
The walk back to the house was silent, a new tension strung between us like high-voltage wire.
I kept my arms wrapped tightly around myself, as if I could physically hold in the riot of emotions threatening to spill over.
Cam maintained a respectful distance, hands in his pockets, eyes focused ahead.
I'd almost let him kiss me. Worse, I had wanted him to. Not for show, but for me. Because standing on that beach with Cam Murphy, bathed in the golden light of sunset, I'd felt something dangerously close to real.
I couldn’t do it again. I'd spent ten years trying to get over him after he'd walked away the first time, and I didn't have it in me to survive another Cam-shaped hole being torn through my heart when this charade inevitably ended.
When the photo ops were completed, the contract signed, and the cameras stopped rolling, he'd move on to his next conquest, professional or otherwise.
This connection between us would vanish into thin air, as if it had been nothing but a mirage.
And I'd be left picking up the pieces of my professional reputation and my bruised heart, once again wondering if what had felt so true, so real to me had been completely one-sided – if I'd imagined the spark in his eyes when he looked at me, manufactured the electricity in his touch to satisfy some pathetic fantasy that had never quite died. The image I’d created of Cam was so powerful, so magnetic, it had even worked on me.
The moon was rising as we reached the deck, casting long silver shadows across the weathered boards. Inside, I could see my family gathered around the table, laughter spilling out through the open windows along with the warm glow of lights. Normal. Safe. Real.
Cam paused at the bottom of the steps. "Lana… I’m sorry, I…"
I shook my head, cutting him off before he could say whatever truth or lie was about to leave his lips. "Let's just get through this weekend, okay? Keep things simple."
He studied me for a long moment, then nodded once, his expression unreadable in the gathering darkness. "If that's what you want."
It wasn't what I wanted. Not even close. What I wanted was for Cam to take me in his arms on the beach and kiss me so hard I lost the ability to make good decisions. But it was what I needed if I was going to survive this with my heart intact.
I climbed the steps without looking back, steeling myself to rejoin my family and pretend that everything was fine. That I hadn't just come dangerously close to crossing a line that would change everything.
That I wasn't already wondering what Cam's lips would have felt like against mine, ten years after I'd first tasted them and spent every night since trying to forget.