41. Cami
Cami
My phone chirps as I step out of the shower, steam curling around my ankles like it’s trying to shield me from whatever fresh panic waits on my screen.
I tug a towel free and twist it around myself, heart thumping in this ridiculous mix of nervous energy I can’t shake.
Maybe it’s Knox. Maybe he’s already on his way back.
Maybe—
Oh. It’s a message from Paxton.
Paxton: Are you alive or will the kittens need to raise themselves?
I huff out a weak laugh even though my stomach is doing somersaults.
I text him back quickly, one-handed, as I reach for my face moisturizer.
Me: I’m alive. Just anxious. Knox is talking to my dad right now.
I set the phone on the counter and stare at my reflection. Damp hair. Flushed cheeks.
A woman who had no idea she’d fall in love this summer and shake the careful world her dad built.
God, my dad. I love him. I do.
But he’s a tidal wave dressed in Tom Ford. And Knox is walking straight into the undertow.
My phone chirps again, and I quickly snatch it up.
Paxton: Oh fuck. Want me to call an ambulance preemptively?
Another text immediately follows.
Paxton: For Knox, I mean.
Breathing out a shaky laugh, I reply with a simple smirk emoji.
All of me wants to believe that Knox can handle Oliver Beaumont and trusts that Dad won’t go nuclear.
But wanting and trusting aren’t the same thing, and right now, I’m not sure which one my heart is clinging to.
Stripe and Shadow cry from the living room, a two-kitten rock band singing about who’s hungrier.
“Coming!” I call out, pulling on Knox’s shirt from last night, letting it swallow me whole. It smells like cologne and the man I love more than words alone can express.
Love. A feeling that’s settled into my bones like it signed a lease.
As I scoop up Stripe, my phone buzzes again.
Paxton: Got the press release draft all written up. Send to your inbox?
Thank God.
Knox walked me through what happened on that late-night call from Jenna, and we stayed up till dawn building a plan. One that protects him, protects me, protects what we’re becoming.
Release the divorce news.
Let a polished photo of us slip into the right hands.
Control the narrative before she twists it into something it’s not.
And Paxton’s the exact person you want crafting words that’ll start a media firestorm.
Me: Yes. And thank you! You’re the best.
Paxton: Damn right.
I smile, grateful we’ve been friends so long. Dad’s been holding a finance role for Paxton at Beaumont Group; his Wall Street internship, and his help with this, should speed things along.
My phone chirps again.
Knox: Not murdered.
A relieved breath hits, pulse leaping.
Knox: He wants to speak with you.
My chest tightens, fingers going cold.
Me: Is he furious?
Anxiety threatens to spike, but Shadow nudges my ankle like she can sense my heartbeat rattling out of rhythm.
Knox: No, baby. We’re headed to you now. Be there in twenty.
I’m halfway into a pair of dark jeans and a striped button-down Pamela had sent over when the front door closes, their voices drifting inside. Knox first, then my dad.
Heart thudding, I fasten the last button and step into the living room, where Stripe and Shadow are planted in front of my dad like newly sworn-in officers conducting their first interrogation.
Dad’s hands hover awkwardly at his sides, like he’s unsure whether to kneel, run, or negotiate with the authorities blocking his path.
Knox meets my eyes, a silent are you okay? threaded through the tension, and I smile in response.
“They don’t bite, Dad,” I tease, stepping forward to wrap him in a hug.
He exhales, one sharp, shaky breath, and his arms close around me with more force than I expect. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
Knox clears his throat. “I’ll take these two into the bedroom,” he says, scooping Stripe as Shadow trots after him. “Let you two talk out here. In private.”
Dad gives him a tight, grateful nod, one that says thank you without surrendering an inch of authority. Knox returns it with equal respect, then disappears down the hallway, kittens chirping in protest as the door clicks shut behind them.
The apartment falls quiet.
Dad’s shoulders drop a fraction as he takes a seat beside me on the couch, the expression on his face saying this conversation is going to matter.
“Frankie,” he says, eyes searching mine. “Start from the beginning. I want to hear the whole story. Your words. Not anyone else’s.”
After a long breath, I explain everything.
How I ended up in Crystal Cove.
The night I bumped into Knox.
The attic noises.
Knox going into the attic to rescue newborn kittens and their mom.
Fostering them together, Stripe and Shadow.
The rules I made—no names, no real life, no falling—to protect my identity and my heart.
Our first date.
And all the dates that followed.
How he was respectful and kind and impossibly loving long before our first kiss.
Millie coming home early.
Not being ready to face New York.
Knox offering me his home, his space, his quiet routines, without blinking.
The hospital.
How he stayed.
And how terrifying that was, realizing someone had chosen me that fully.
Swearing a thousand times I wasn’t falling in love.
Knowing I already had.
Vermont, his mom, his grandparents.
Knox’s first I love you.
Losing the bubble phone.
Being devastated.
Certain we were over.
Until the gala. When Knox looked at me like the universe had handed him back something he thought he’d lost.
By the time I stop, my chest is tight, and my dad is staring at me like he’s seeing me clearly for the first time in years.
“Frankie,” he says, throat working, “I had no idea you were shouldering all of this alone. When I picked you up from the airport…I thought you were just tired. I didn’t realize you were hurting.
” He scrubs a hand over his jaw, blinking hard.
“And I see it now. How much this man means to you. How much you mean to him.”
My breath catches, truth rising before I can hold it back. “I love him so much, Dad.”
He closes his eyes for a beat like the words land somewhere deep. When he opens them again, they’re softer than I’ve seen since my mom died.
“You know…” he begins, tone at ease, “you two remind me a lot of your mom and me. And it only took a month to know I was head over heels for Nora.”
His hand settles over mine, steady, warm, and I smile just as warmly.
“And I think fate played a part with you and Knox,” he adds quietly. “You fell for each other before you knew who the other really was. Before last names and expectations and all the noise.”
Dad exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing, mine easing, too.
“I just needed to be sure you weren’t swept up in something temporary.
That your heart is safe.” He shakes his head, a small, disbelieving laugh leaving him.
“But it’s obvious, you didn’t fall into this, Frankie.
You grew into it.” He squeezes my hand, gentle but sure.
“And if this is who you love…I’m with you. ”
I fold into him, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, breathing him in—comfort that feels both familiar and brand new.
He presses a kiss to my temple. “If he ever steps out of line, I’ll handle it personally.”
I let out a shaky laugh as I pull back. “Dad…”
“Knox filled me in on Jenna,” he says. “And on the plan you two put together.” His gaze searches mine. “Before we loop him back in, I need to hear it from you. Are you certain about the approach?”
My heartbeat steadies as I nod. “Yes. Completely.”
He studies me a moment longer, something proud sparking behind his eyes.
A familiar meow breaks the beat. We both flick our attention toward the hallway as Knox rounds the corner, Stripe tucked under one arm and Shadow trotting at his heels like he’s leading a security detail.
His gaze flicks between Dad and me. “Is this where I’m supposed to pretend I wasn’t eavesdropping?”
Dad huffs, a sound hovering close to a laugh. “Come on, son,” he says, motioning Knox forward. “Let’s walk through the plan once more, start to finish, before we meet with my photographers and my contact at the New York Times.”
I always thought the scariest part of loving someone was the possibility of losing them.
But I was wrong.
The scariest part is realizing the world is about to know something that once lived only in whispered moments—and in the way Knox looks at me when he thinks no one else is watching.
Going public changes how we’ve existed all summer.
Reaching for Knox’s hand, I ease into the fact that this is our new normal. Us. In real life.
Whatever comes next, we’re choosing it together…
Press Release – For immediate distribution
From the Office of Knox Everette Ryder, Founder & CEO, Luxe Properties
New York, NY – Luxe Properties confirms that Knox Everette Ryder and Jenna Blair finalized the terms of their divorce earlier this year. The couple parted ways amicably and privately, choosing to respect each other’s personal and professional lives.
“While I’ve kept my personal life separate from my work, transparency matters,” Ryder said in a prepared statement. “Jenna and I closed our marriage with grace, clarity, and mutual respect. We wish each other well.”
Ryder also requested privacy moving forward regarding speculation or attempts to sensationalize the timeline or circumstances of their separation.
In the same statement, Ryder acknowledged that he is currently in a new relationship.
“I’m grateful for the support I’ve received during this transition,” he added. “I’m choosing to move forward with honesty and integrity, both personally and professionally.”
Luxe Properties will not be commenting further on private matters.
The New York Times – Business & Society Desk
Exclusive Photo: Luxe Properties Founder Knox Everette Ryder seen with Francesca Camille Beaumont amid post-divorce transition.
By Lila Hartmann
Published: September 07
New York
Photo obtained by The Times.
New York’s business elite, Luxe Properties founder, and CEO Knox Everette Ryder, was photographed yesterday in what appears to be an intimate moment with Francesca Camille “Cami” Beaumont, daughter of Beaumont Group President Oliver Beaumont.
The sighting comes just hours after Ryder confirmed, via an official statement, that his marriage to wedding planner Jenna Blair has been formally dissolved. Industry insiders note the divorce had been finalized months earlier but remained private until yesterday’s announcement.
In the photo, Ryder and Beaumont appear relaxed and close, signaling a shift from the typically guarded public image the real estate mogul has maintained throughout his career.
Sources close to the Beaumont family tell us the pair met earlier this summer and “formed an unexpectedly deep connection.”
Behind the romance rumors, industry insiders are equally focused on the business angle: sources tell The Times that Beaumont Group and Everette Hill Reserve Syrup — a legacy brand owned by the Ryder family — have been engaged in partnership acquisition discussions.
If true, the deal would blend the Beaumont empire’s global reach with Everette Hill’s artisanal prestige, creating a sweet synergy investors are already calling “a match made in boardroom heaven.”
While neither Ryder nor Beaumont has commented on the nature of their relationship, their polished appearance and easy chemistry have already sparked interest among media and investors alike, particularly given the powerhouse reputations of both families.
Representatives for Beaumont Group declined to comment, citing respect for the individuals’ privacy.