Chapter 19
New York
It was intimate, high energy, and interactive. The studio lights were warm but not harsh, the kind that made everything feel close, almost conspiratorial.
Brian leaned back, studying Camille. “Submission is a controversial word these days. How do you sell that to a modern woman?”
Camille didn’t rush. “By telling the truth,” she said simply. “Submission to God isn’t weakness. It’s strength under control.”
Brian nodded slowly. “That’s… not the usual answer.”
She smiled lightly. “It wasn’t my usual thinking either.”
Aaron glanced at her then—really looked at her.
Brian shifted. “And how did you prepare for a role like this?”
“I stopped trying to control it,” she said. “I studied, I prayed… and then I followed the lead I was given.”
She tipped her head slightly toward Aaron.
Brian’s grin returned. “Convenient lead.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the room.
The rest of the interview moved quickly after that—questions about scale, production, faith, the usual circuit—but the tone had shifted. Camille answered with a calm certainty that hadn’t been there before.
And Aaron felt it.
Not just in what she said.
In who she was becoming.
~*~*~*~
On their way back to the hotel in the chauffeur-driven car, Aaron turned to Camille.
“That was amazing.”
“What was?”
“The way you answered those questions. In particular, the one about submission. That had me floored. I didn’t realize you felt that way.”
“I didn’t always. But that Sunday afternoon when we had that conversation at your house, it set me thinking.”
“You mean when we were speaking about how Scarlette quit cheerleading because both of us couldn’t be on the same team.”
“Yeah.”
He let out a soft breath. “Didn’t realize you agreed with me.”
“Maybe not completely at first, but as I mulled over it and studied the scripture, I came to that same position.”
“Mmm,” he said, nodding, watching her more than the passing city lights. “So, what are you doing for the rest of the night?”
“Watching TV and then going to bed.”
“You’re not going to have dinner?”
“I don’t usually eat very heavy at night.”
“Unless you’re nervous, right? Alas, gone are the days when I make you nervous.”
She laughed and shook her head. “No, you make me good nervous now, not bad nervous. I get ravenous when I’m nervous in a bad way. When I’m nervous in a good way, I lose my appetite.”
He leaned down and whispered intimately, “What’s good nervous, may I ask?”
“It’s the type when the whiff of his perfume means he’s near and your heart begins to race. When the sound of his voice makes your palms sweat. When the sight of him makes you ready to swoon.”
He didn’t say anything. He sat back, still as stone, and then his breath came out in a whoosh.
The car had stopped and the driver opened the door for them to get out.
In the hotel elevator there was enough tension to cut with a knife. They were on the same floor, a couple of rooms down from each other. Her room was first. She stopped and inserted her key card. The door made a soft whirring noise and clicked open.
She turned back to watch him. His expression was intense. His eyes hungry. She gulped.
“Are you alright?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m great. Have a good night.”
“You too. Sleep well,” she said then slipped inside.
~*~*~*~
The next day Aaron and Camille left the hotel early to board a flight to Chicago.
In the hotel lounge area, they didn’t really interact.
Out of necessity, Aaron spent most of the time on the phone with Ray and also Chris.
The plan was for Ray to meet up with them for the radio interviews in Houston.
After that they would travel to Phoenix and then return to L.A.
, where the entire crew would not only meet with a couple of DJs but also have several virtual interviews in the studio.
On the flight, this time Aaron was seated behind Camille.
He helped her store away her luggage, then she settled into her seat.
“Do you need anything?” he asked, leaning over her.
She glanced at him with a smile. “Are you my stewardess now?”
He laughed. “Can I be your stewardess?”
She wagged a finger at him. “Now, now Aaron, don’t be naughty.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Just kidding around.”
“Hmm,” she said, reaching for the headphones in the compartment and unwrapping them. “Did you have a restful night?” she asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
He didn’t respond, and just then the flight attendant was right there behind him asking for an excuse, which gave him the perfect one.
“I’d better get seated. Other passengers coming down the aisle,” he said.
He took his seat behind her and watched as she slipped on the headphones.
He didn’t know if she was going to watch an in-flight movie or listen to her Spotify list. Either way, he felt a little isolated from her.
They were friends. Just friends. He had asked for this. Yet it was beginning to get to him.
He wanted more.
Did he have a restful night? Restful indeed. He had tossed and turned. Thinking of her. Wanting her. Asking himself if it was worth it trying to slow things down between them. It was next to impossible.
Chicago
They hit Chicago and chatted with Michelle Browne, a prominent Chicago-based radio and television personality best known for her work on 93.
9 WLIT-FM. She had made history as one of the few women to lead a major morning radio show and was the first to simultaneously host both morning and afternoon drive slots.
Michelle greeted them with warmth and an appraising smile that suggested she noticed far more than she said. The studio was sleek, the lighting soft but professional, cameras positioned to capture every reaction.
They settled into their seats—Aaron on Michelle’s right, Camille on her left. Yet somehow, despite the distance, there seemed to be a current running between them. Michelle clocked it immediately and tucked the observation away for later.
Michelle leaned forward, eyes bright. “What was the most memorable scene to film?”
Camille didn’t hesitate. “The wedding night.”
Michelle blinked—then laughed. “Esther?”
“It’s tender,” Camille said, softer now. “Not just romantic. Trusting.”
Michelle turned slowly to Aaron, delighted. “Well. That wasn’t the answer I expected. What about you?”
Aaron smiled, but there was a faint tension in it. “I’d say the confrontation with Haman. That moment when Xerxes chooses to believe Esther—without proof.”
Michelle tilted her head. “So… trust again.”
Camille’s gaze flicked to Aaron before she could stop it.
“Trust is everything,” she said. “But people don’t always give it right away. Sometimes… they’re waiting to know it’s safe.”
The air shifted.
Michelle noticed.
“And when they finally take that risk?” she asked lightly.
Camille held Aaron’s gaze a fraction too long. “Then you find out what kind of person you’re dealing with.”
Silence—brief, but loaded.
Michelle leaned back slowly, a knowing smile forming. “You two didn’t just act this movie, did you?”
Camille let out a small laugh. “We… understood the characters.”
Aaron nodded. “Very well.”
Michelle’s smile deepened. “Mm-hmm. It shows.”
The rest of the interview blurred—questions about production, scale, audience—but the room never quite lost that edge.
~*~*~*~
“Was that meant for me?”
Aaron didn’t wait long after they stepped outside.
Camille glanced at him, though she already knew what was coming. “Was what meant for you?”
“That answer,” he said. “About trust.”
She exhaled slowly, turning to face him. “Aaron—”
“No.” His voice wasn’t raised, but it was firm. “I need to understand what you meant.”
Her brows drew together slightly. “I meant exactly what I said.”
“That you can keep things from someone and still be trustworthy?”
A flicker of irritation crossed her face. “That sometimes people don’t tell the whole truth because they’re not sure it’s safe yet,” she corrected.
He studied her, unmoved. “And is that what you’re saying about us?”
She hesitated.
That was enough.
Aaron let out a quiet breath, something tightening in his chest. “Camille, what happened between us wasn’t strategy. It wasn’t timing. You said yourself—you were wrong.”
“I was,” she said quickly. “I was wrong to lie to you. I’ve never denied that.”
“Then don’t soften it now.”
“I’m not softening it,” she shot back, sharper now. “You keep saying that like it’s simple. Like I woke up one morning and decided to deceive you.”
His jaw tightened. “Then help me understand it.”
She held his gaze, something more vulnerable flickering beneath the frustration.
“I didn’t trust you yet,” she said. “I cared about you—more than I was ready for—and that made me careful. Maybe too careful. I made the wrong decision, yes. But it wasn’t because I didn’t value you.
” Her voice softened, but didn’t break. “It was because I was afraid to trust you.”
He didn’t look away.
“I took that choice away from you,” she continued. “I know that. And I hate that I did.” A small pause. “But I’m not doing that anymore.”
Silence stretched between them—longer this time, heavier.
Aaron exhaled, slower now. “I don’t know how to just… forget it.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
His eyes flicked back to hers.
“I’m asking you to decide if you can forgive it.”
That landed.
Not defensive. Not pleading.
Just… true.
Before he could answer, a handler appeared at the door, waving them inside for the next segment.
~*~*~*~
The host, Ray Jay, didn’t help.
“Camille, you are absolutely stunning in this film,” Ray Jay said, leaning forward across the console, his voice dropping a register. “But I have to say, in person? You are dangerous.”
Camille laughed. “Thank you.”
“No, seriously,” he pressed, his eyes lingering a second too long. “If Xerxes didn’t fall in love with Esther, I would have questioned the man’s sanity. Aaron, you had to work real hard pretending this was just acting, huh?”