Chapter 14
OWEN
I’m reeling. From the kiss—the feel of Thea under my lips and her taste on my tongue—but also from her comments.
I’m angry that she sees herself that way.
I’m hurt by her saying I have no sense of humor when it felt like she understood me.
And I’m so turned on I don’t think I’ll ever feel anything else.
I let myself have one last look at her, but it doesn’t make me feel better. She’s tugging on her lips, still swollen from mine, while gazing off into the distance.
I sigh, jogging down the hallway and away from her without another word. Camila’s only a few feet away when I turn the corner, too focused on her fingers flying across her phone screen to keep up a normal pace.
I speed up behind her, plucking the phone out of her hands before she can do any more damage. I see one of the dozens of cousin group chats—this one called Gossip Girls—with a text from Camila saying, you’ll never guess who I just caught canoodling in the hallway.
A half-dozen replies have already come through, begging Camila for the latest gossip and throwing out their guesses. I’m relieved to see that none of them are about me. Who would guess I was the one acting inappropriately in public?
Camila lunges for her phone, and I place a hand on her forehead, holding her back with ease.
“Don’t make me wrestle a pregnant woman, Cami,” I say with a sigh.
She stands up straight, crossing her arms, her forearms resting on the small bump. “You can’t keep my phone forever.”
I take a step back, farther out of her reach, and toss the phone up and down a few times. “Do you think this phone should go for a little swim in the pond?”
Her eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I widen my eyes. “Of course I wouldn’t do it. I’m responsible, sweet Owen. But accidents do happen.”
She calls my bluff. “Fine, ruin my phone. I can’t text everyone tonight, but I don’t know how you expect to keep me from telling them tomorrow.”
I slip her phone in my back pocket, holding on to it so I have time to explain, blackmail, or beg.
“Look,” I say. “It wasn’t what it looked like—”
“It looked like you two were having a moment.” She says the last word in that singsong voice she knows drives me crazy and starts making kissing noises.
“Thea doesn’t think about me like that anymore,” I say, desperate to get Camila off our case. “She turned me down, okay?”
Camila’s eyes narrow, and it feels like she’s a telepath, poking around in my brain. “I don’t buy it. What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.” I cross my arms, belatedly remembering that she used to tease me about that tell whenever I was lying, but if I uncross them now, it’ll look even more suspicious.
She points an accusing finger at my arms. “I know you, Owen Hayes. What aren’t you telling me?”
During those summers when we were young, Camila and I had been inseparable.
And even though I’d never admit it outright, she’s my favorite cousin.
It’s natural with a family this big to find little pockets.
I love all my cousins, but realistically I can’t be close with every one of them, and Cami’s only a month younger than me.
We’d run like little heathens through the vineyard as kids.
She was the person I told about my first—tragically unrequited—crush.
My first sip of alcohol was from a wine bottle she stole out of her parents’ tasting room.
It had been wild and comfortable at the same time.
But life became more complicated as we got older, and by the time I was old enough to drive, I had too many other responsibilities pulling me away from our adventures.
I want to trust her, to have someone to discuss this with, but I also can’t leave Thea unprotected.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I say, trying for nonchalance.
Camila’s face drops. “I know we haven’t spent as much time together in the past few years, but I still considered you one of my closest friends.”
My heart tightens. “That’s some strategic use of the past tense there.”
Her eyes flash. “What do you expect? You almost never come up anymore. When you do, you spend half your trip on your computer. Now you’re here lying to my face, and I’m supposed to believe that our friendship is something you value?”
She’s right. God, I hate it when Cami’s right. As the business has grown, I’ve been more and more overwhelmed with work. I spend a week up here every year, but don’t feel comfortable stepping away fully when there’s so much pressure to maintain the success.
But my relationship with Camila is more than a few distracted visits. It’s a lifetime of secrets, and she’s never broken my trust when I needed her.
“Remember when we were fifteen and you told me you were gay before you were ready to tell everyone?” I ask, and her eyes narrow, knowing where this is going. “You told me that if I ever had a secret the family couldn’t know, I could come to you and you’d take it to the grave.”
“That’s not fair! You can’t use things I said against me when I was a baby.”
“You can’t tell any—”
“Except Mira,” she says with pleading eyes.
“Fine, yes, except your wife. But no one else. Swear it on the future of this hotel.” She rolls her eyes, but I push. “I’m serious, Cami. This isn’t just about me. I need to know I can trust you with this.”
Camila whines, shaking her arms a bit. “Fine, I swear on the future of the hotel.”
“Thea and I…” I suck in a breath as I glance up and down the hallway one last time, and Cami leans forward like the pause is a black hole sucking her in. “We never dated.”
Her eyes flutter so quickly that she probably just blinked more in three seconds than I do in a whole day. “I’m sorry, what?”
I shrug. “It was fake.”
“But … why?”
I run a hand down my face. “Why do you think? Don’t you remember the list my mom asked you to make of eligible women invited to your wedding? I just needed a break.”
She groans, her body collapsing back against the wall. “Fuck, Owen, this is the best gossip this family’s had in forever, and you want me to keep it secret?”
“I swear, Cami, if you tell anyone but Mira, I’ll kill you. Thea’s worried about the fallout affecting Addy. God only knows how my mom would react.”
Camila’s face pales a bit, and I wonder which of my mom’s dramatics she’s playing out in her head.
“Please,” I beg, throwing myself on her mercy. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“But…” she starts with a little whine in her voice. “Fine.”
I hold her phone out, a show of trust, and she takes it back with a sigh.
She types something, then holds it up. Another dozen texts have come through asking Camila where she went, but at the bottom of the chain is a new message from Camila that says, Harrison and Addy, going at it in the hallway like they were teenagers trying to get in one last grope before curfew.
I grimace at the image presented. “Really, Camila?”
She shrugs, a self-satisfied smile playing over her lips. “I’ve gotta get my fun somehow.”
I shake my head, but my body sags in relief. “How are you both the worst and the best?”
The sound of my mother’s voice from down the hall makes me jump. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you two getting up to mischief.”
Camila looks at me frantically, then to my mother, then back two more times before either of us speak.
“Yeah, we’re just having a grand old time,” she says, rolling the r like a leprechaun.
Real smooth, Camila.
The upward curve of Mom’s lips is paired with a confused furrow of her brows as she looks between us. “What are y’all chatting about?”
“Work,” I shout.
Camila’s eyes brighten, clinging to the topic. “Yes! Work! I was just telling Owen I’m taking over the inn after my maternity leave so Dad and Mom can retire.”
Mom clutches Cami’s hand. “Oh, darling, that’s wonderful. You’ll do such incredible work, and it’s so rewarding carrying on the legacy.”
The difference between me and Camila is that she’s always wanted to take over the inn.
She’d force me to play hotel with her, setting up a little table next to the inn’s check-in counter so she could walk me through the process.
Her parents demanded she work at other hotels before committing to the inn.
They didn’t want her to wake up one day and feel trapped.
It may look like the same situation on the outside, but it couldn’t be more different.
Tears swim in my mom’s eyes, and she doesn’t swipe them away when they roll down her cheeks.
“I hope it’s not for a long, long time, Camila, but when your parents are gone, you’ll be so happy you’re continuing their work.
It will let you feel like they’re still with you, like you’re keeping them alive. Right, Owen?”
I smile, but it’s tight. She and Camila are both watching me, and I can’t just say nothing, so I force out a soft “Yes.”
Mom doesn’t need more than that and starts raving about the importance of maintaining legacy while I zone out. I’m not sure how long she talks when she finally says, “It’s way past my bedtime, so I’m going to hit the hay. Don’t stay up too late. We have plenty of work tomorrow.”
Camila waits until she rounds the corner to nudge me. “Are you ever going to tell her you don’t like your job?”
I shift on my feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Sure. If you ever need someone to talk to, you know I’m here, right?”
I pull her in for a hug, popping a kiss on her head. “Says the family gossip.”
She laughs and pokes me in the side. “This isn’t gossip. It’s your life.”
“I appreciate it,” I say, and I genuinely mean it, even though I won’t take her up on it.