Chapter 18 #2
When he finally leaned back, he searched her face like he was memorizing it. He wiped her tears with the back of his thumb. Then he kissed her.
Soft. Careful.
Then less careful.
The restraint snapped and his mouth claimed hers with all the things he hadn’t said. She kissed him back just as fiercely—aching, desperate, terrified.
But beneath the longing was the question.
She pulled away, breath unsteady. “Have you forgiven me?”
He hesitated. Swallowed. “Sure.”
It was the wrong word. “Do you trust me?”
His hands slid from her waist.
“I’m trying to,” he said quietly. “I want to. But trust doesn’t come easily when it’s broken.”
She stepped back. “I see. You don’t trust me.”
“Camille—”
“I want to be with you,” she said, tears falling freely now. “But not like this. Not while you’re bracing for me to disappoint you. I want you to trust me. Fully.”
“And I want to trust you again,” he said. “But it’ll take time. Maybe we take it slow. Start over. Get to know each other properly.”
She tilted her head. “You’re saying we should just be friends.”
He didn’t argue.
“Is that what you really want, Aaron?”
A beat. Then a short, reluctant nod. “It might be best.”
A wry smile curved her mouth, though her eyes were wet. “I think I preferred it when you wanted us to be enemies.”
He almost smiled. Almost.
“But fine,” she said softly. “If that’s the route you want, fine. Just remember—you asked for this.”
She stepped around him.
This time, he let her go.
Her heart ached with every step down the corridor, but beneath the ache was something steadier. She had told the truth. She had not begged. She had not twisted herself smaller to keep him.
She would not break.
If there was a way forward, God would make it.
~*~*~*~
The clang of weights echoed through Aaron’s home gym, sharp and rhythmic beneath the low pulse of music coming from the speakers. The air smelled faintly of rubber mats and clean steel.
Aaron lowered the bar to his chest again, jaw tightening as he pushed through another rep.
“One more,” Adam said automatically from behind the bench.
Aaron exhaled hard and shoved the weight upward.
The bar clanged back into the rack.
Adam stepped back as Aaron sat up slowly, breathing heavily. Sweat dampened the collar of his T-shirt.
“Dude,” Adam said, shaking his head as he grabbed a towel off the bench nearby, “there is no way you told her that.”
Aaron took the towel from him and dragged it across his face. “What was I supposed to say?” he shot back between breaths. “‘Let’s just rewind to before you broke my trust’?” He tossed the towel over his shoulder. “I can’t do that, Adam.”
Adam nodded once, then moved toward the weight tree, sliding another plate into place with a muted clink.
“Okay,” he conceded. “Fair.” He straightened. “You can’t pretend nothing happened.”
Aaron reached for his water bottle and took a long drink.
“But attempting a platonic friendship,” Adam continued, “with a woman you are clearly still in love with?”
He let out a short laugh.
“That’s… brave.”
Aaron screwed the cap back onto the bottle. “I can handle it. I believe in myself.”
Adam barked out a laugh.
“That’s great. Confidence is key.” He smirked. “Self-delusion is even better.”
Aaron rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe people actually pay you to counsel them.”
Adam pointed at him. “Are you paying me?”
“No.”
“Exactly. Pro bono sarcasm. You’re welcome.”
A reluctant smile tugged at Aaron’s mouth as he stood and moved toward the pull-up bar.
He jumped up, gripping it, shoulders tightening as he started the first rep.
Adam leaned back against the rack and waited until Aaron dropped back down before speaking again.
“All jokes aside,” he said, “the chemistry between you two on that television show?”
Aaron grabbed the towel again, wiping sweat from his face.
“It was noticeable.”
Aaron scoffed. “It was not.”
“It absolutely was,” Adam said. “You’re lucky it was Christian TV. If you’d been on some unfiltered late-night show, the host would’ve had a field day.”
Aaron groaned softly and paced toward the dumbbell rack.
“Don’t say that. We’ve got the radio tour soon,” he muttered.
Adam handed him his water bottle.
“Physical travel or virtual?”
“Both.” Aaron drank deeply before continuing. “We’ll hit a few major cities in person. New York. Atlanta. Texas. Maybe Chicago.”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“But most of it’s radio media-tour style. You sit in a studio and knock out interviews back-to-back. Twenty cities before lunch.”
Adam gave a low whistle.
“So you and Camille,” he said slowly, “in close quarters for…?”
“About a week.”
Adam took his time unscrewing his own bottle.
“And you’re just… friends.”
Aaron shot him a look. “That’s the plan.”
Adam shook his head slowly, clearly unconvinced.
They moved into stretches afterward, the intensity of the workout finally easing. Aaron sat on one of the mats near the wall, elbows resting on his knees as he caught his breath. Adam stood nearby drinking from a sports bottle.
“I am genuinely looking forward to your return,” Adam said finally.
Aaron glanced up. “And why is that?”
Adam grinned. “Because I am deeply curious to see how this ‘friends’ narrative holds up after seven days of airports, hotels, shared press junkets, and people asking if you’re secretly in love.”
Aaron snorted softly. “We’re professionals.”
“Sure you are.”
Aaron leaned his head back against the wall with a tired laugh. “You done?”
“Not even close,” Adam said cheerfully. “But I’ll pace myself. One week isn’t that long.”
Aaron shook his head as Adam grabbed his things and headed toward the door.
The gym fell quieter after he left.
For a moment, Aaron just sat there on the mat, sports bottle dangling loosely from his hand, the steady hum of the speakers filling the room.
What was Van Morrison singing? Slipping and sliding all along the waterfall with you, my brown-eyed girl…you, my brown-eyed girl…so hard to find my way, now that I’m all on my own. I saw you just the other day…
Why did all roads seem to lead back to Camille?
~*~*~*~
“What’s that you’re listening to?”
Aaron slid into the wide leather seat beside Camille as the last of first class settled.
The Delta flight from L.A. to New York to attend the first series of radio shows hummed with pre-departure energy—overhead bins thudding shut, flight attendants doing final checks, the low murmur of business travelers already negotiating deals over email.
Camille had boarded before him. Of course she had. She was already tucked in, seatbelt fastened, tote neatly stowed, a bottle of water in the side compartment. No chaos. No rummaging.
She looked… serene.
At the airport earlier she’d given him a casual wave. Friendly. Polite. Distant. If they were doing “friends,” she was apparently letting him define the tone.
Fine. He could rise to the occasion.
She glanced at him now, slipped off her headphones, and—unexpectedly—held them out with a smile. “Listen.”
He hesitated only a second before placing them over his ears. As he adjusted them, he caught a faint scent—something light and warm. Perfume? Lotion? Camille.
Then—
The opening synth of I don’t want to Miss a Thing blasted into his brain.
He mouthed along and imitated the performance as far as the cramped aisle space allowed, unable to stop himself. “…Lying close to you, feeling your heart beating. And I wonder what you’re dreaming, wondering if it’s me you’re seeing….”
Camille burst out laughing, covering her mouth as he committed fully to the performance.
A flight attendant paused mid-aisle, amused.
When the song tapered off, Aaron slipped the headphones down and handed them back. “Aerosmith? Really? What other secrets are you hiding?”
She looped the headphones around her neck. “Musically? While you prefer seventies pop, I lean toward rock.”
He scoffed. “Excuse me. I appreciate rock. The Who, for example?”
She swatted his arm. “Get out. Really? Baba O’Reilly is one of my favorites.”
“Mine too.”
Her eyes widened. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, my word. We’re sharing Spotify lists immediately.”
She had turned toward him fully now, knees angled his way. He mirrored her without thinking. She was dressed in a soft khaki lounge set, effortlessly put together. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders.
“You look beautiful,” he said. It slipped out before he could stop himself.
Her eyes widened—then warmed. A slow smile spread across her face. She ran her fingers through her hair, shaking it out playfully. “Why sir. What a sweet thing to say.”
He quickly glanced away and reached for his phone. “You’re impossible,” he said because that was safer than reflecting on what her gesture had just done to his heart rate.
The engines roared to life. The plane began its slow taxi. Outside the window, the L.A. sunset streaked the runway in orange and pink.
“How’s Madison?” she asked, her tone softening.
He turned back to her. “She’s great. She’ll spend the next seven days being thoroughly spoiled by my parents.”
“As though she isn’t already thoroughly spoiled by her father.”
He frowned slightly. “Do you really think I do that?”
Camille smiled gently. “She’s not terribly spoiled. But I don’t think you can help spoiling her at least a little. My mom used to say my dad spoiled me. He always denied it.”
Aaron remembered what he knew of that man—the financial betrayal, the manipulation. He didn’t ask what “spoiling” had meant in her house.
“How’s your relationship with him these days?” he asked instead.
She folded her arms and leaned her head back against the seat, staring at the seat in front of her as the plane lifted off.
“I pray for him,” she said after a moment. “Often. But I’m cautious. I can’t just… let him back in after what he did.”
“Hmm.”
The weight of that lingered between them.
Irony of ironies. Did Camille understand that this was exactly the predicament in which Aaron had found himself?
He loved her. But he was trying to protect himself from her at the same time.
He studied her profile—the strength in her jaw, the vulnerability she tried to hide. When he considered her upbringing, he understood more clearly why she defaulted to self-protection. God would have to unteach some of that. Just as He was unteaching things in him.
“Does she mention me?” Camille asked softly.
He knew she meant Madison.
“She did at first,” he said carefully. “Not as much now.”
“Oh.”
It was small. Barely there.
“But she’s young,” he added quickly. “She doesn’t attach quickly. That’s probably healthy.”
Camille nodded. “I miss her.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” A pause. Then, quieter, “I miss her father too.”
His heart slammed hard enough to steal his breath.
For a second he just looked at her.
Then, almost without thinking, he extended his hand across the armrest.
After a moment’s hesitation, she slipped hers into it.
Her fingers were warm. Soft. Familiar.
He squeezed gently, savoring the simple rightness of it. It felt like home.
They stayed like that as the plane leveled off, the city lights shrinking beneath them.
A flight attendant approached with the beverage cart. “Drinks?”
They separated slowly.
Aaron ordered sparkling water. Camille asked for tea.
As the cart rolled on, he glanced sideways at her.
Adam would absolutely die laughing at him.
He hadn’t even made it an hour before complimenting her on her looks and holding her hand.
Heaven help him.