Chapter 23
It turned out that orgasms made her sleep extraordinarily well.
Sunday morning, Cami rolled out of bed with a lazy smile.
She was in her comfiest pajamas, and her body was loose and relaxed.
The warm sunlight streaming in through her windows gave the apartment a cozy cottage feel.
She would have some tea and toaster strudel, then she’d do her weekly sweep and mop before relaxing with YouTube and its plethora of cat videos.
If she was feeling ambitious, she’d draw herself a bath with those lavender-scented candles she liked so much.
There would be no thinking about Dad or Lenny.
It was going to be a good day. She could feel it.
She pulled up a streaming radio station on her laptop for something to listen to while she cleaned. Then she tied her hair back, and while the water boiled and her strudel toasted, she grabbed the broom. Might as well get a head start.
She hummed along to the music, hips swaying while she swept. Under the table, along the baseboard, and behind the bed skirt she went. She worked the week’s dust, dirt, and shed hair into a small pile ready for the dustpan.
As she was dragging the broom under the couch, her gaze snagged on something small and dark was caught under the back foot.
The toaster popped.
She pulled the broom over the object, hoping to dislodge it, but it only swiveled under the wooden sofa leg. She propped the broom against the back of the couch, then crouched to retrieve the errant garbage.
The tea kettle started to whistle, high-pitched and grating.
It was a shiny, rectangular piece of cardstock and weighty in her hand. A business card she didn’t recognize.
She turned it over.
In embossed gold font, she read: Desmond Blake, Co-President, Calogistics Acquisitions.
A prickle crawled over her scalp one hair follicle at a time. The tea kettle continued to screech, but she could barely hear it over the rush of blood in her ears.
She took a deep, intentional breath, and sat back on her heels.
There was no need to panic. She could text Des.
It would be simple enough to ask for clarification.
In retrospect, she was surprised it hadn’t come up earlier—the name of the company he worked for, his job title.
Literally any useful bit of info. Calogistics didn’t sound like the name of a company that made sex toys, but she wasn’t an expert in the field.
But co-president? Would Des be on door-to-door sales duty if he helped run the company?
Maybe, she supposed, if it was small enough, but if it was that small, how could he afford that house of his?
She just couldn’t wrap her brain around it.
And if, as she suspected, Calogistics wasn’t in the business of manufacturing adult toys, then Des had lied to her. Had been lying to her this whole time, from the moment they met. Just like Lenny. As if one large-scale betrayal wasn’t enough for the week.
After her thighs began to burn, she rose, turning to the best and most loyal friend she’d ever had: Google.
She switched off the stove and dragged the kettle to the side.
With a cup of tea in hand, she sank onto her couch and waited for her laptop to boot up.
There had to be a simple explanation for this.
She couldn’t overreact without knowing all the info.
That would be silly. But her hair still prickled, as if her instincts were on high alert.
‘DESMOND BLAKE CALOGISTICS SANTA MONICA’ she typed. Her fingers were shaking as she hit Enter.
The results populated her screen with blue links and black text. At the very top of them was a link to the Calogistics website. She clicked it.
The site was modern and well-designed—attractive and easy to navigate, oozing confidence and success. The owner had no doubt paid handsomely for the design, setup, and maintenance. It was a lovely job. She prayed that someday she’d be talented enough to design something like this.
It was not a site for a sex toy manufacturer.
Some clicking around on the various navigation tabs led to the discovery that Des and his co-president, Gabriel, had been running Calogistics for seven years and had been responsible for “facilitating some of Southern California’s most influential business and real estate acquisition deals.
” They were in the business of buying businesses, like the one Cami worked for.
But what would anybody want with one little adult toy store? Sure, it was popular, but not enough to attract attention. And one storefront in an entire plaza had to be useless from a real estate point of view.
She crammed her feet into a pair of beat-up sneakers that rested on a mat near the entrance, locked the door behind her, and ran to the convenience store where she made all her junk food purchases.
Rodger was behind the counter, as he often was.
She held up her phone to show Des’s headshot from the Calogistics website.
Rodger nodded. “Des? Sure. Nice guy. He’s helping us sell the store to some bigshot in Toronto. Everyone else in the plaza, too, I think. Didn’t Lenny tell you?”
Cami would add this to the long list of things Lenny Seaver had not told her.
Her pulse had been vibrating dimly in her ears since she’d first discovered the business card, but Rodger’s explanation had it roaring to skull-quaking levels.
This entire time, all the months that she’d known him, Des had been working to buy the store.
Every time he asked to see Lenny, it was to try to convince her to sell.
He must have thought getting close to Cami would get him into Lenny’s good graces.
If he succeeded, not only would she have been out of a job, she’d be homeless too.
And he’d coaxed her into bed, all charming flirtation and disarming smiles while promising to keep his hands to himself.
She was such an idiot. Of course he’d lied. Everyone lied. Everyone had an agenda.
When was she going to learn? How many people had to lie to her face or use her for personal gain before she got a clue?
Uncle Archie had disappeared into the sunset with tens of thousands of dollars before she could rip him a new one, but she knew exactly where to find Desmond Blake.
“Thanks, Rodger,” she said, and bought a bottle of water from him for the road. She had a bus to catch.
Des hated to put too fine a point on it, at risk of jinxing himself, but he was in an uncommonly cheerful mood when he arrived at Calogistics that morning.
He made himself a coffee at the machine in the office kitchenette, humming a bouncy tune under his breath as he added a splash of creamer.
Dinner the night before had gone shockingly well, all things considered, and his parting interlude with Cami had left him feeling desirous yet fulfilled in the most curious way.
Being with her wasn’t about getting himself off.
Just seeing her satisfied was all the reward he needed.
Her lazy, sated smile when he’d kissed her goodbye made him clench inside in a way that pleasing Madilyn never had.
He was in love with Cami. It was obvious now.
Everything was easy with her, even the hard things.
He felt free to open up with her, able to share parts of himself that he never would have dared to show anyone else.
She was passionate and dedicated, and she cared so much about the people she loved.
She deserved amazing things, and he wanted to be the one to help her get them.
He couldn’t tell her all that, yet. First, he had to come clean. If he confessed his love before he’d told her everything, it would seem too much like a manipulation. She had to forgive him for his lies before his feelings for her even mattered.
But he had hope. He thought she felt the same.
There was a shine in her eyes when she looked at him that made his body feel lighter and more concentrated all at once.
He used to think he saw love and desire when Madilyn had looked at him.
He’d come to realize it was only calculation.
Maybe there had been an aesthetic appreciation for his body, but when Madilyn saw him as a meal ticket. Cami saw into his soul.
Fingers crossed, everything would be fine. He would explain and beg her forgiveness. He would give her time to think things over, and he would wait however long it took. He hoped love would win out in the end, but if she never forgave him, it would be his fault and he would have to deal with it.
Maybe she’d be free tonight. He could bring her dinner, something lowkey but delicious, and they could chat in her apartment, where she was most at ease. He could explain, then leave her to her thoughts, give her some space. Yes, that was the best way to go about it.
He unlocked his phone, leaning back against the counter in front of the kitchenette sink, and pulled up his text thread with Cami. He was about to tap on the Call symbol when the sensor on the office front door gave a ding of warning.
They didn’t have any appointments that day.
It was unheard of for Gabriel to show his face in the office before midafternoon, but they did occasionally get deliveries meant for the photography studio next door, which kept odd hours.
It was probably just a UPS worker trying to drop off a new ring light again.
He took a swig from his coffee as he entered the lobby, but instead of a man in a brown uniform, he found Cami.
She was seething. Her spine was ramrod straight, but her chin tipped down like she was going into battle. He could feel the anger radiating off her from across the room, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. If she was standing in the Calogistics office, then she knew. She knew everything.
The hope that had buoyed him only moments before hardened to a stone in his throat, then sank until it settled, rough and jagged, in the pit of his stomach.
For long moments, neither of them said anything.
He gaped, willing his brain to come up with an apology, an explanation, a single thought at all, but all his mind could manage was the deafening tone of a flatlined heart monitor.
She stared at him, nearly vibrating with rage, but she seemed just as speechless as he was.
Or maybe she was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she wouldn’t be able to control what came out.
Finally, he took a cautious inhale and forced his vocal cords to function. “I was going to tell you.”
“Really?” Even from across the room, the tension in her jaw was obvious. There was a quiver of barely-contained fury in her voice. “Before or after you made me homeless and unemployed?”
He flinched, but took a step toward her. “Tonight. I was going to tell you tonight.” He held up his phone, like showing her the time-locked screen would prove his intentions.
“Oh, very convenient. And would you have screwed me first? Would you have brought out your toys to get me loose and happy and pliable?”
It was doubtless her intention, but the accusation hit him in the gut like a sledgehammer. “It wasn’t like that, Cami.”
“Oh? What was it like, Des?”
He took a careful breath, ignoring the shake in it.
“I didn’t plan what happened with you. It had nothing to do with my job.
” He didn’t know how he could possibly make her understand.
She’d found out on her own, and that was infinitely worse than if he’d told her himself.
He should have told her earlier. Right from the start.
He was so stupid. “Everything between us was—is real.”
She was shaking her head before he’d finished speaking. When he fell silent, she shrugged her shoulders, hands helplessly held out to her sides. “I don’t believe you.”
“Cami.” He started to speak, but at only her name, words failed him. This was bad. So bad. Everything he’d been so hopeful for this morning was crashing down around him, the wreckage of his good intentions.
With a roll of her eyes, she turned away from him, folding her arms protectively over her chest. When she spoke again, her voice was sad and quiet, as though she was talking more to herself than to him. “Everyone I love lies to me.”
“You do love me, then?” He took another step, one hand reaching out though he was still too far away to touch her.
She jerked away, glancing over her shoulder to spit out, “Go fuck yourself.”
It was like she’d slapped him. The venom in her words stunned him into paralysis as she stormed out the office door and disappeared from view.
He could go after her. He probably should, all things considered.
But he didn’t know what good it would do.
She was furious, and she had every right to be.
He’d lied to her, time and again, then taken their relationship to another level without giving her all the information she deserved.
It had been optimistic to the point of hilarity to think she’d forgive him for it, even if he’d been able to tell her himself.
His relationship with Madilyn had ended as a result of the same optimism, but he’d been the one taken advantage of then. How idiotic of him to think this could end any better.
He’d taken this job as a way to clean up the wreckage Madilyn had made of him and caused his own mess to keep it. The hell of it was, he didn’t even want the damn job anymore. Not if this was who it made him.
He slumped into one of the lobby’s armchairs, the cushions providing more comfort than he deserved.