Chapter 22
Instead of texting Cami to let her know he was in the parking lot, Des took the stairs to her apartment two at a time, extra motorcycle helmet in hand, to knock on her door the old-fashioned way.
A muffled “Coming!” was followed by clunking and a vehement curse word before the door jerked open to reveal Cami in a flowy, floral print blouse with elbow-length sleeves and cropped white jeans.
Her hair had been curled in a way that made him feel bad about handing her the helmet.
“You look lovely,” he said, and dropped a kiss to her cheek. “I’m sure the effect of the helmet will only make your hair look naturally bouncy.”
“Hat hair is the cool new look with the youths these days,” she laughed, and trailed him down the staircase to his bike.
The ride from her apartment to his parents’ house in Malibu wasn’t exceptionally long, even on a Saturday evening.
He weaved carefully through traffic on Pacific Coast Highway as she clung to his waist, her face pressed against his shoulders so she could watch the coast as it passed.
He didn’t know how comfortable she was on motorcycles, but given what he knew of her past, he doubted it was a lot.
Still, she didn’t squeak in his ear or tighten her hold on him when he leaned to take a gentle turn.
Maybe she was just unconcerned in general, but he liked to think he could chalk it up to trust. He wanted her to trust him.
When they pulled onto his parents’ street, he slowed.
She eased away from him to turn her head and look around.
She’d only been in California for a year and didn’t have transportation of her own.
Had she even been to Malibu before? Maybe he’d take her for a day trip soon, let her enjoy the beach before the summer faded away into the chillier, foggy autumn mornings where the only people who braved the water were the surfers.
Olivia’s car was nestled in the wide drive, pulled up snug to the closed double garage doors which shielded his parents’ twin SUVs. The house was too big for them. He wondered, as he parked next to Liv’s car and killed the engine, if Cami would find the excess wasteful.
“I know it’s big,” he said once he’d removed his helmet.
“They bought it a couple years back in anticipation of their forthcoming—” Air quotes.
“—retirement. Three bedrooms for one couple? Yeah, right. They’re hoping for grandkids.
” He climbed off the bike, slid his helmet onto one of the handlebars, and offered her help getting off.
As she took his hand, he winked. “No pressure.”
“What? Me, feel pressured by the obscenely rich surgeon couple with the multi-million dollar home?” She pulled her helmet off and then laughed too loud, her face screwed up in adorable anxiety that belied the laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. This dump would fit in my childhood bathroom.”
“Of course. How pedestrian of me.”
As they approached the front door, his hand migrated from grasping her fingers to settle against the curve of her back.
He knocked once, perfunctorily, but hesitated, apprehension gripping him for one long beat.
He hadn’t yet told Cami the truth about his job, and also hadn’t warned his family about his lie.
There was a slim possibility that one of them might mention the truth in front of her, at which point the house of cards he’d built with the blonde next to him would come crashing down.
The only reason he’d allowed this dinner to get this far was that he was fairly certain none of them understood what he did, and therefore couldn’t bring it up in detail.
Essentially, he was betting this fledgling relationship on the disinterest of his family holding out long enough for him to tell her the truth.
He should have done it earlier this week, when he’d had Cami all to himself, but they’d had two semi-serious conversations that night, and, frankly, after disclosing his affair with Madilyn to her, he’d been sort of drained on the conversation front.
Then a few busy days had passed where they hadn’t been able to see each other, and his career wasn’t the kind he could explain in a text message.
He should have found a way to pick her up earlier today, to tell her the truth and give her the chance to back out of dinner.
Maybe he could have convinced Lenny to let her out of her shift. ..
Cami nudged him with her shoulder, a conspiratorial smile on her face. “Are you going to knock, or are we going to make a break for it?”
He heaved an exaggerated sigh and made a show of glancing forlornly over his shoulder at his bike. Then he gave a sharp knock and let himself in.
“Hi,” he called to the empty foyer, “we’re here!”
“Desmond!” his mother answered. He couldn’t tell where she was, but it was far enough that her voice rang off the walls as he and Cami removed their shoes. “We’re in the parlor!”
“There’s a parlor?” Cami whispered.
He stifled a smile. “It’s a living room,” he replied. “She’s just being pretentious. Come on.”
He led her farther into the house, through the pale painted hallway and past the kitchen, which was emanating the aroma of something mouthwatering.
The living room was open to the rest of the house, with no doorways to speak of, unless you counted the step down into the recess that contained it.
The floor was plush cream carpet that never would have survived in a home with young children, and the idea of having kids of his own and bringing them here made him equal parts giddy and anxious over the state of his parents’ décor.
Their home had been smaller growing up, but they’d still had a nanny keeping a watchful eye over him and Olivia to stop them from drawing on the walls when Mom and Dad were on 72-hour shifts at the hospital.
Grandkids were pretty far on the horizon, though, given that he couldn’t even tell Cami what he did for a living.
She stiffened next to him as she took in his family, seated around a polished cherry coffee table, each holding a tumbler of booze.
“Cami, this is my mom and dad, Jade and Alec Blake.”
Mom had her hair, still shiny and black despite her age, swept up elegantly on top of her head, with gold hoop earrings she could never wear at work dangling from her lobes.
Her top and slacks were both black, but she had a bright yellow cardigan on over them that made her cheeks look rosy.
Next to her, Dad surveyed the two of them, one hand idly swishing the bourbon in his glass.
He was wearing the browline glasses he wore at the hospital, not the horn-rimmed ones he saved for home.
Likewise, he was dressed in his standard under-the-white-coat outfit, including sweater vest and pressed slacks. He must have gone to work that day.
At his introduction, Dad raised his glass and dipped his head in a nod, but remained silent and seated.
Liv was in the chair kitty-corner to the loveseat his parents shared. He gestured to her, made a show of rolling his eyes. “And you know my sister, Olivia. Family, this is Cami Sutherland. Please don’t embarrass me in front of her.”
“Oh, I think you can handle that much on your own,” Liv quipped, rising from her spot by the fireplace. She leaned in to wave Cami forward and give her an air kiss on the cheek, which, if the look Cami shot him was anything to go by, baffled her completely.
“You’re hilarious,” he said, smothering his laugh at Cami’s expression.
“Now, now, children. Play nicely.” His mother climbed to her feet and offered Cami a hand to shake over the coffee table between them.
Cami took it with a gracious smile. “It’s nice to meet you, dear.
Desmond never brings anyone home.” She cocked her head and turned to Des, then added, “In fact, he rarely comes home himself.”
He checked his watchless wrist. “What is that, thirty seconds? Thirty seconds to start guilting me after I walk through the door?” He grinned, then leaned in to give her a one-armed hug. “How’ve you been, Mom? Not working too hard I hope?”
She answered with a noncommittal noise and a wave of her hand. “Oh, I’m not the one you need to worry about, dear. That’ll be your father.”
Dad huffed. “Hardly.”
“Having met you both, I think it’s perfectly fair to worry you’re working yourselves into the grave,” he countered. “Liv, too, for that matter.”
“Hey, leave me out of this.” Liv stepped around Cami toward the bar. “Do either of you want drinks while I’m up?”
“Please, have a seat,” Mom interrupted, gesturing to the sofa opposite Liv’s chair. “Tell us about yourself, Cami. What do you do for work?”
Des’s pulse stuttered, and he said, “Yes, drinks, please.”
Liv made him his usual neat bourbon and Cami politely ordered a rye and ginger ale, then settled into the sofa per his mother’s request. He sat next to her, carefully leaving a foot of space between them out of some misplaced teenage instinct.
Sitting adjacent to his parents next to a woman he cared about, as though awaiting judgment, made him feel like he imagined high school boys did when they were getting judged by their prom date’s dad.
Cami appeared to feel no such pressure. Or, if she did, she was hiding it remarkably well. “I’m a student, primarily,” she told them. “I’m taking Computer Information Systems at Santa Monica College, and I work part-time at a retail store.”
Well, that was a diplomatic way to phrase it.
When Liv handed each of them their glasses, he gave a grateful salute with his own. Cami took hers, sipped from it, and then cradled it in her hands.
“Oh, that’s nice that they’re able to work with your school hours,” Mom said.
Dad nodded mildly. “What is it you hope to do when you finish your program?”