4. Camden #3
He had missed dinners before. He had broken plans. Tess had gotten angry, made him sit through the argument, then accepted the apology once he proved he understood what he had done.
Tomorrow needed to be bigger.
The tennis bracelet.
She had paused over one in a catalog last month, turning the page back before shutting it and leaving it on the kitchen counter. Camden had noticed. He noticed things, even if Tess kept accusing him of living with half his attention somewhere else.
He could have Marcus secure it first thing in the morning.
No assistant handing it off in some shipping box. Camden would take it home himself, put it in her hand, and own the anniversary screwup without hiding behind football.
One ruined meal did not erase three years.
One campaign dinner did not erase a marriage.
He pocketed the phone.
Chloe tipped her glass toward him. “You disappeared for a second.”
“Checking the time.”
“And?”
Camden picked up his pint. “This campaign better earn its keep. Fixing tomorrow morning is going to cost me.”
Marcus gave him a brief look across the table but returned to the executive beside him.
Camden drank.
He drained the beer in one long swallow, lowering the empty glass with the date still fixed in his mind.
Tomorrow would fix it.
Camden followed Chloe toward O’Malley’s front door with one goal left for the night: get into the car and go home.
The door opened onto a wall of flashes.
Stringers crowded the sidewalk behind the curb, cameras already raised. Questions crashed over one another before Camden cleared the threshold, and the space between the bar and the waiting car shrank beneath bodies, lenses, and reaching microphones.
“QB1! Chloe! Give us the crossover shot!”
“Keep moving,” Camden said. “Car’s right there.”
Chloe matched his pace. “Then stop walking like you’re escaping a fire.”
Camden angled toward the vehicle.
Her hand slid down his arm.
Before he could pull away, Chloe threaded her fingers through his and drew their joined hands between them. Another burst of shutters followed. She stepped closer until her side pressed against his, turning both of them toward the nearest cameras.
Pull away.
Camden started to shift.
A photographer moved closer, lens fixed on their hands.
“Come on, QB1! One kiss for the timeline!”
Chloe tilted her face toward Camden. “Relax. Marcus is going to use every shot they get.”
“This wasn’t part of dinner.”
“Neither are fifty photographers on the sidewalk. We’re already here.”
She rose toward him.
Her lips pressed against his cheek.
She stayed there just long enough for the sidewalk to erupt.
Camden’s first instinct was to step away, but flashes were firing close enough to bleach the people in front of him into white shapes.
If he jerked free now, that would become the clip.
Campaign partners fighting outside the launch dinner.
Chloe rejected by the franchise quarterback.
Marcus would spend tomorrow feeding explanations into every sports desk in the country.
Another few seconds bought the exit.
That was all.
Chloe stayed tucked against his side while the shutters kept going. Camden left their fingers linked and turned toward the cameras, keeping his face blank and letting them interpret the lack of reaction however they wanted.
It means nothing.
The kiss had landed on his cheek. Their hands were linked because photographers had demanded a picture. None of this had anything to do with the life waiting at home.
Tess would understand once he explained it.
Tomorrow, he would tell her about Marcus cornering him at the facility. He would own the anniversary mistake. He would bring the bracelet, take whatever anger she threw at him, and shut the campaign out for the rest of the day.
A camera operator called for another kiss.
Camden reached for the door handle instead.
“They have enough,” he said. “Get in the car, Chloe.”
She kept smiling for the lenses. “Two more seconds.”
“No. We’re done.”
Camden let go and stepped back.
The nearest stringers surged forward the second he pulled away, shouting questions about the campaign, Chloe, and whether the two of them were making the partnership official. He crossed the last stretch of sidewalk and reached the car.
Chloe slipped into the backseat from the other side.
Camden followed, careful with his sore shoulder as he lowered himself inside. A photographer leaned toward the open doorway, camera raised.
“Camden! One word! Is Chloe coming home with you tonight?”
Camden caught the inside handle.
“No.”
The answer disappeared beneath another barrage of questions.
He pulled the door toward him. He knew that single kiss outside was already locked away on a dozen cameras, frozen into whatever story the people on the sidewalk wanted to sell.
Camden stared straight ahead as the car moved from the curb.
Tomorrow he would fix the anniversary. Tomorrow he would explain the dinner. Tomorrow Tess would understand that none of this had been real.
Camden leaned back into the leather, letting the tinted glass cut off the flashes.