Chapter 5 #2
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and think about how to answer that question. I like Camille, and I want her to like me, too. The last thing I want is for her to feel sorry for me. I wince at that thought. How could I possibly think such a thing after what she shared with me?
“Divorced,” I say. I can’t seem to find the right words to start, so that’s all I say.
“I’m sorry.” She tilts her head and leans against the headrest of her seat. “How long?”
“Fifteen years. We’d been trying for kids, but she couldn’t get pregnant.
Or so I thought. We tried for a few years before I finally suggested we see a fertility expert.
That’s when she freaked out on me. Without discussion or warning, she asked for a divorce.
Turns out she wasn’t as invested in our relationship as I was.
A year after our divorce was finalized, she got remarried to a man I later found out she was having an affair while we were still together.
She has three kids with him now. Turns out, she did want kids, just not with me. ”
“Oh, Adam.” She reaches across the cab and rests her hand on my forearm. A tingling sensation spreads from the warmth of her hand and up my arm. It’s an unfamiliar feeling but one I want to feel again and again. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
“It was a long time ago. I’m over it, mostly. I hate that I missed out on that part of life, though. The kids and all. I always wanted kids, but I guess that wasn’t in the cards for me.”
“You never know. Men aren’t like women. You could always find yourself a young woman who could give them to you.”
“Ha,” I snort. “Very funny. I’m more attracted to women closer to my age.”
I cut my gaze in her direction, and when our eyes lock, her pale blue eyes turn the same stormy gray I’d seen the day I met her. The tension in my truck still weighs heavy, but for a different reason now.
I want her, and I’m almost certain she wants me, too.
By the time we make it back to Watercress Falls, it’s well past dinner. We grab fast food on our way out of Kalispell and eat on the road. I offer to take her somewhere we can sit and enjoy a nice meal, but she insists fast food is fine.
Working with Camille is proving to be easy.
I like that she knows what she wants and makes quick decisions.
She isn’t one to waver or ponder options for hours on end.
It took her ten minutes to decide on appliances, another fifteen to narrow down the cabinets, and about two seconds to point out the tile flooring she wants in the kitchen and foyer.
I’ve never seen anything like it. We even managed to make it to the countertop specialist to pick out her granite and slate slabs.
Once the cabinets arrive and are installed, all I have to do is message him with the dimensions.
It’s been a productive day to say the least.
I pull in next to her car outside my office and put the truck in park. With the sun setting, the temperatures have dropped, and frost is forming on surfaces. Her car is one of those frozen surfaces. “Give me your keys, and I’ll start your car for you.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I can start my own car, Adam.”
“I know you can.” I hold out my hand, waiting for her keys. When she doesn’t move to give them to me, I add, “It’s cold out there and your windshield is frozen over. Let me start it for you so it can warm up.”
She stares at me with a faint smirk on her face. Either she’s messing with me, or she’s really not used to people doing things for her. For a second, I think she’s going to object again. Then a smile forms on her lips, and she hands them over.
I slip out of the truck, start her car, and get to work scraping her windows.
Camille is an independent woman, and I respect that. But I’m filled with an unfamiliar need to take care of her. Warming her car for her doesn’t seem like that big of a deal, but maybe it is to her.
I squeeze my eyes shut. While I’m focused on being a nice guy, she’s probably fighting back memories of her husband. I’m such an asshole.
Once her windows are clean, I slip back in my truck and hold my now frozen hands in front of the vents.
“Thank you.” The words come out of her mouth as a whisper. She smiles, but it isn’t enough to hide the sadness that keeps taking over her expressions.
“Of course.” I focus on keeping my voice calm even though I’m anything but calm right now. This woman does things to me that I want to explore. But I have to proceed with caution. If I screw this up, I may never get another chance. “It should be warm for you in a few minutes.”
She turns away from me and stares out the side window. Her breathing increases, and her hand is clenched into a fist. The air in my cab suddenly weighs down on me again, and the silence is harsh. I’ve never understood the phrase deafening silence until now.
Camille takes a deep breath before she speaks. “I’m sorry. I’m being silly. You cleaning my windows and starting my car for me shouldn’t be a big deal. But to me, it kinda is. No one’s done those things since Mark died. It just feels weird having someone help.”
“No need to apologize. I get it. After Irene left, there were certain things that were harder than others to accept help on. It takes time.”
“But how much time? I feel like I should have moved past some of these things by now.”
“You can’t put time constraints on dealing with loss. When you’re ready, you’ll move past it. Until then, you keep living. That’s all you can do.”
When she looks back at me, the spark returns to her eyes. “So, you’re not only a talented architect, you’re also a wise counselor?”
“I don’t know about wise.” I chuckle and rub my hands together until the numbness is almost gone.
“Just experienced, I guess. Loss of any kind does crazy things to our emotions. A few years after Irene left me, my dad passed away unexpectedly. I hadn’t accepted the loss of Irene, and then I had to help Momma deal with the ranch, my younger siblings, and my business.
There was so much to help with that I pushed my emotions aside and didn’t deal with them for the longest time. ”
“That sounds awful. I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“Thanks, but it's no more awful than what happened to you. My point is, don’t be too hard on yourself for taking time. Time is good as long as you're still living.”
She nods and looks back out the window. How many times did my friends and siblings tell me I had to keep living back then?
I mourned the loss of something I never had.
I was upset Irene left me, but what I was really upset about was the loss of a family.
The chance to have children and grandchildren. I still mourn that loss today.
“How many siblings do you have?” she asks without looking in my direction.
“Three. Two adopted brothers and a sister.”
She snaps her head in surprise. “Really?”
“Yep. I was eighteen when my parents gave up on trying and chose adoption. They just finalized the adoption papers for an infant when Momma found out she was pregnant. My sister was a complete surprise. Didn’t think she could have more.
It ended up feeling like raising twins with two infants only a few months apart in age.
Matt came along later. He was twelve when he came to live with us. We’re an interesting bunch.”
“Sounds like it. Are you all close?”
“Very.” I chuckle. “We’re probably in each other’s business too much.”
“I can’t imagine what that’s like. I’m one of seven, and we’re not close at all. I haven’t seen most of my siblings in years. They didn’t even come to Mark’s funeral.”
I drop my smile and pinch my lips together to keep my chin from dropping in shock. “Now, I can’t imagine what that’s like.”
“My family is … How do I say this? Selfish and cold. No one but my daughter supported my decision to move here. So, I’m really on my own.”
“Just one kid?”
She nods, and I think I see tears in her eyes before she hides her face by turning away from me. “Elizabeth, but she prefers Lizzy. She’s twenty-five. We’re close.”
Her voice cracks, and I definitely hear a sniffle.
It takes every ounce of strength to keep to my side of the truck.
The urge to reach for her and hold her is overpowering.
I open my mouth to ask her if she’s okay a few times, but nothing comes out.
I don’t know what brought on her tears, but it doesn’t feel right to ask her.
She lets out a low breath and wipes her face before grabbing her purse from the floor. “Before I forget, I had an extra key made for you. I’ve got some travel planned in the coming months for work, and I don’t want my absence to hinder your ability to keep working.”
I stare at the key in her hand a few seconds too long before I reach for it.
Not because she’s giving me a key—lots of clients did for similar reasons.
But because I have no clue what she does for work.
We’ve talked about a lot of things, but never about her career. “Can I ask what you do for a living?”
She leans back and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth before she answers me. “I’m a writer. A novelist, actually.” A shyness I haven’t seen before breaks through her otherwise confident demeanor.
I don’t know what I’m expecting, but that isn’t it. To be honest, I haven’t spent any time thinking about her profession. All my thoughts have been otherwise occupied. “Wow. I’ve never met a novelist before. What do you write?”
“Mostly science fiction.”
“Oh, wow.” Can this woman get any more intriguing? “Anything I would’ve read?”
“Possibly.” Her voice is low. Based on her body language, she’s nervous to tell me more. I start to tell her it’s okay, but she continues. “Ever read the Frontier Rising saga?”
My eyes widen and my jaw drops. “No way. You’re C.L. Barnes?”
Frontier Rising is one of the most popular science fiction book series in years. I may not have read them, but anyone breathing has heard of these books.
And I’ve been pining over the author for weeks like a lovesick puppy dog.
“Please don’t make a big deal out of it. I’m still just Cami—the same klutz who ran into you outside Sweet Cakes.”
I shake my head and regain control of my emotions. She’s right. While this makes her even more fascinating to me, it doesn’t change a thing. “Sorry. You surprised me is all. I wouldn’t dream of treating you any differently than I have been.”
“Thank you.” Her expression softens, and she gazes at me like she’s about to say something else, but doesn’t. Instead, she wraps her scarf around her neck and hugs her purse to her chest. “My car is probably warm by now. I should let you go.”
I rub my hands down my face, my next breath heavy. I don’t want her to leave, but I can’t think of any reason to ask her to stay.
Instead, I nod and say goodnight. “I’ll keep in touch about the supplies we ordered today. Should be able to start in a few weeks.”
“Sounds good.” She starts for the door handle, then pauses. “Thanks for letting me share today. That’s not easy for me.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll always lend an ear if you need to talk.”
She tosses me a faint smile, and I don’t miss that her hand is shaking when she opens the door. Is she shaking because of me or the cold?
Fuck, I hope it’s me.
I watch Camille as she gets in her car and backs out of the parking lot.
I sit in my truck long after she’s out of sight, unable to get my arms and legs to move so I can drive home.
I want her, and I don’t know how to get her.
I can’t just ask her out like I would any other woman, can I?
That’d probably scare Camille off. But then she looked at me the same way I looked at her.
I didn’t mistake the attraction and heat I saw in her eyes.
That was as real as me sitting here, freezing my ass off.
“Damn, I thought dating was hard when I was young,” I mumble to myself as I put the truck in reverse. There’s nothing I can do about this tonight. Camille’s not going anywhere, and neither am I. I’ve got time to figure this out.