Chapter Eleven
Cam
The waiter showed up and I reluctantly let go of Sue’s hand.
“Have you decided on your meal?” he asked.
“We’ll have the Land and Sea dinner,” I said.
He beamed, probably sensing this was going to be a big bill and a generous tip.
I had no doubt the meal was going to be a production, which was exactly what I wanted.
Maybe I was showing off for Susanne, but sometimes the best way to say I like you is with lobster and excellent wine.
Hell, it’s the best way men either have at their disposal, or work for.
The waiter launched into the menu as though he was reciting poetry. Oysters Rockefeller, Escargots au gratin, Scallops Pernod with seasonal greens… lobster, filet mignon, crème brulée, cheese, wine. Six courses, or in other words, six opportunities to make Sue smile.
I watched her face as he spoke. She started off amused, then she looked slightly alarmed. No doubt she was calculating how many hours she’d need on the treadmill afterward. I could almost hear her inner monologue.
“What do you say?” I tried to encourage her to voice her thoughts.
She hesitated, then gave a casual shrug that didn’t fool me. “Why not?”
I grinned. “Good choice. I appreciate a woman who eats and doesn’t just pick at her food.”
I confirmed the order with the waiter, and watched him disappear with the promise of indulgence trailing in his wake.
As the clink of glassware faded into the background, I reached across the table and took her hand again. I’d noticed the ring earlier—an elegant, delicate band on her fourth finger that had fooled me too before Sebastian set me straight.
“I noticed this ring before.” I brushed my thumb gently over the amethyst. “At first, I thought it was an engagement ring. When I asked Sebastian about you, he assured me you weren’t seeing anyone—as far as he knew. Is this something you wear to keep unwanted men at bay?”
She smiled. “If only it would work.” Then her eyes dropped to the ring and her tone softened.
“It is an engagement ring, but not mine. My grandfather had it made for my grandmother on their fiftieth wedding anniversary. He couldn’t afford to give her one when they were young.
She left it to me in her will. I keep meaning to have it enlarged so that I can wear it on my right hand. ”
I let the words settle between us. That was the kind of love story that had made me not give up. Fifty years of old-school loyalty was mind-blowing. If that stuff existed, maybe anything was possible. I was sure I wanted to have that with the right woman.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “But I’m glad it’s not your engagement ring.”
That prompted a little chuckle. “My mom’s desperate to change that.”
“She sounds… determined.”
“She’s scary as hell.”
I laughed at the fear-tinged conviction in her voice. “What about your dad? Is he like that too?”
Her expression changed, turning fond and wistful. “Not like that, no. He’s an old-fashioned Italian winemaker who values family above all, but doesn’t push me to do anything I’m not comfortable with. He was the only one who supported me when I decided to move to New York and become a teacher.”
I liked her dad already. “He sounds amazing. I can’t wait to meet him.”
“That’s going to be interesting,” she murmured. “So, how come you chose MIT?”
I wasn’t usually one to spill personal history on a first date, but something about Sue inspired honesty. Not the kind of forced vulnerability you cough up for sympathy points, but the kind that made me feel I wanted her to know the real me.
I smiled into my glass. “Because I was a nerd with no social life and an unhealthy obsession with circuit boards.”
She laughed. God, I loved her laugh. It was genuine, open, with no trace of fake amusement one uses just to be polite.
“No social life? Hard to believe,” she teased. “You don’t exactly radiate awkward loner vibes.”
“Don’t let appearances fool you. I was one hundred percent that kid who spent Friday nights building robots and watching Star Trek reruns.
” I leaned in just enough to keep the tone conspiratorial.
“I applied to Stanford too, but when MIT sent me the acceptance letter, my mom cried. I think she was more excited than I was. She helped me make my choice.”
Her expression turned soft, a warm smile brushing her beautiful lips. “Sounds like she had a lot of faith in you.”
“She still does. She raised us pretty much on her own after… well, after my dad passed.”
I could hear the weight creeping into my voice again.
That damned shadow that still wiped out my smile most of the times I thought about him.
It was so unfair, because my father had been so much more than his illness.
He’d put his fingerprint on me through genetics, education, through the things I’d watched him do for us and which taught me to be a man.
He’d been a handsome, athletic, vibrant man who would dominate a room just through his presence.
I hadn’t forgotten his smile or the million jokes he knew.
But somehow the bad memories were a lot more powerful than the good ones.
I looked down, letting my thumb trace the stem of my glass.
She sucked in a quiet breath, a wave of sorrow softening her voice. “I’m so sorry, Cam. Was it a long time ago?”
“Yeah. Fifteen years.” I didn’t look up right away. “Lung cancer. By the time they caught it, it was already stage four. He passed away six months later, the day I turned seventeen.”
I had never celebrated my birthday again. It wasn’t the day of my birth anymore; it was the anniversary of my father’s death. And still the most painful day of the year.
Sue’s hand slid across the table, her fingers curling gently over mine.
“My God…” she whispered. “That must’ve turned your whole world upside down. Seventeen is such a young age to suddenly carry all that weight.”
She had no idea. But somehow, she seemed to understand enough.
I turned my palm up and held on to her hand—not tight, just steady.
“Yeah. I think I aged ten years that first night.” I closed my eyes, remembering.
“I didn’t sleep at all, just wandered the house in the dark, wondering if my dad’s soul was still around.
I was torn between asking for help and advice, or letting his soul rest after the horrible ordeal he’d been through. ”
Sue didn’t speak, but her expressive eyes shone with compassion. Her silence was inviting, drawing me to open up a little more, to share the burden of that memory just for a moment. She would have made an exceptional psychologist.
I cleared my throat. “My brother Craig was fifteen. And my sister Becky—she was just a kid. Ten years old, and all she knew was that Dad had stopped coming home from the hospital. Mom tried to shield her from the worst of it, but… kids know.”
“They always know,” Sue whispered, the pressure of her fingers on mine increasing slightly.
“I didn’t know how to be the man of the house,” I admitted, rubbing my thumb against hers. “But I knew someone had to step up. Mom worked seven days a week to keep us afloat, Craig spiraled for a while, and Becky needed someone who still believed things would be okay.”
A humorless laugh escaped me. “Seventeen-year-old me thought I could hold everything together with duct tape and a half-grown beard.”
“You probably did,” Sue said gently. “Hold it together, I mean. That’s a hell of a lot to carry.”
I stared down at our joined hands. “You do what you have to do. That kind of loss… it makes you grow up fast. Focus, or fall apart.”
I realized I didn’t want to bring down the whole night with ghosts, so I forced a smile and tore myself away from the memories. This was the first time I talked about this with a date. I still didn’t know what made me open up to Sue.
“Don’t worry,” I said lightly. “I’m not always this heavy. I promise I do more than brood over tragic backstory.”
Sue nudged my leg under the table with hers. “Hey, tragic backstory makes a guy interesting. It’s very Batman.”
That made me laugh for real. “Guess I just need a Catwoman to complete the package.”
She grinned, a playful spark in her eyes. “If we ever go to a Halloween party together, I’ll be your Catwoman.”
“I’ll make that happen just to see you wearing a black leather skin-suit.”
“It’s a deal.”
God help me, I already wanted to see her in a lot less than that. But I’d earned this moment—I wasn’t about to ruin it by getting greedy.
I looked down at our linked fingers. I loved Sue’s hands.
They were soft and feminine, with clean short nails and transparent nail polish.
She was so different from Britt, from all the women I’d dated before.
She undid me with her simple, stunning beauty.
She didn’t need colorful nail polish, or flamboyant makeup.
She glowed from within. I realized now she had what most women chased and tried to fake—natural beauty.
Her voice was warm with curiosity as she urged the conversation forward. “Now, tell me about Becky. What’s she like?”
I felt my mouth twitch into a smile before I could answer. My sister always had that effect on me.
“She’ll always be a brat,” I said fondly. “But she’s a great human being—if you repeat that, I’ll swear you’re a rotten liar.”
Sue laughed—a warm, breathy sound that scattered all the shadows in my heart and quieted all the voices in my head.
Another novelty. When I was with a woman, all I could do was struggle not to be myself, not to notice the spinach in her teeth or the asymmetry of her features.
With Susanne, I felt settled. If I noticed anything out of place, it didn’t bother me.
“My lips are sealed,” she said. “Is she married?”
“Nope. She just wants to experience life, as she puts it, before settling down.”
And honestly? I respected the hell out of that. My sister wasn’t rushing into relationships or clinging to something just because it was expected. She was forging her own path, like she always had.
“I can understand that,” Sue said, her tone thoughtful. “Caring for a family is hard work, and marriages don’t seem to last that long these days.”
I sighed, the statistic already etched in my brain. “I recently read that nearly half of marriages end in divorce.”
She blinked. “That bad?”
“Too many people call it quits at the first sign of hardship. Or they don’t feel their relationships are worth fighting for. I also think society sets unrealistic expectations—especially through social media.”
That got the eye roll I was expecting.
“Don’t get me started,” she groaned. “At least a third of the kids I teach want to be influencers. When I ask what exactly they want to influence, they say they just want to make a lot of money and travel. None of them mention wanting to have families.”
I shook my head. “Unrealistic expectations at such a young age. But hey, who are we to judge? The previous generation to ours probably thought we had silly expectations, too. We seem to have turned out okay. With the technology we have today, the future generation may do some amazing things.”
“Hopefully they’ll improve interpersonal relationships first,” she muttered. “Dating sucks nowadays. Don’t even get me started on dating apps. I’ve read too many thrillers. And met too many creeps.”
I chuckled, though I knew exactly what she meant. “To be fair, it’s women like my ex who traumatize men about the notion of love, marriage and baby carriage. Once burned…”
She lifted a brow. “Not all women are like that, just like not all men are jerks or serial killers. But I get your point. Neil has made me think there’s no such thing as a good man.
However, I’ve watched my mom and dad’s marriage, and I know for a fact that good relationships exist. I just wasn’t lucky enough to have one. ”
“Maybe not yet, just like I haven’t,” I said, raising my glass in a surge of optimism. “But let’s not lose hope.”