Chapter Twenty-One
Cam
I was probably one of the very few people in America who was working on a Sunday night at nine, but I had a lot of work to catch up on.
Hours ago I’d heard Sue’s friends arrive, and judging by the loud voices and giggles coming from next door, they were still there.
I was grateful for this time to myself. Sebastian had left for Houston that morning, and I appreciated having the place to myself for the next four weeks.
The first thing I’d done was to clean the place, change the sheets and move into the bedroom.
Sebastian’s couch had wrecked my back, which was already sore from too many workouts.
I needed an outlet, and since I wasn’t getting laid, I spent an hour in the gym every day.
I’d installed my laptop at Sebastian’s desk and had done a decent couple hours of work. I was beyond excited by the current projects I was working on.
My focus was on one in particular: ReadNest, an AI-based reading companion for kids who didn’t have parents hovering over them with bedtime stories and homework checklists.
I knew that kid. I had been that kid, and later that teenager who lived in the public library, who taught himself to code by sneaking hours at an internet café while his mom worked two jobs and his dad slowly faded away.
I’d spent months refining its framework.
ReadNest wasn’t just software, it was a lifeline. A friendly flashlight in the dark.
I toggled through the beta feedback. Most of it was basic—UI glitches, translation bugs—but then I saw a comment from a school in rural Oregon: “My student didn’t speak in class until she read with the AI raccoon.
Now she won’t stop asking questions.” I grinned from ear to ear.
A deep string in my heart vibrated, the way it did every time I knew I’d changed someone’s life for the better.
Roscoe the Raccoon had been modeled after a mangy stuffed animal I’d had as a kid.
He only had one eye and looked like he’d survived a bar fight, but he was mine.
My dad had bought it for me when I was five, which turned it into my most prized possession.
I still had him in one of my many boxes back in Denver.
I never imagined he’d end up a literacy hero.
A knock on the door jarred me out of my reverie. When I went to open it, Sue was standing there. She was glowing, her cheeks flushed, her smile sunny. Her presence was always like a blast of sunshine and happy music.
I opened the door wide. “Finished with the girls?”
“Yep.” She stepped inside, carrying the scent of wine and candlelight. “How was the conference call?”
“Productive.”
“I brought food, if you’re hungry.”
She set a takeout bag on the coffee table. “Pasta and tiramisu. I kept the pasta in the oven so it’s still warm.”
I placed a hand on my stomach. “Thanks, you’ve read my mind. I’m starving. Didn’t realize it until now.”
“See, that’s why you need a fake fiancée to take care of you.”
She plopped down on the couch, and I sat beside her, stretching out my legs.
The cushions dipped slightly beneath us, narrowing the space between our shoulders.
Up close, I spotted a dusting of freckles on her nose that softened her features and stole the edge off her usual teacher-serious expression.
In the low light, she glowed effortlessly beautiful—the kind of face you’d see in a skincare ad and wonder if it was real.
Despite my best efforts to switch it off, my awareness of her sharpened like a spotlight.
I shifted slightly, resisting the ridiculous urge to close the last few inches between us. “Did your friends see the paper?”
“Oh yeah.” She blew out a long breath. “I told them the truth. They swore they wouldn’t tell anyone.”
I shrugged. “If you trust them, I trust them. They seem fun.”
“Fun and completely insane, but yeah, they’re amazing.” She giggled. “Jesse filled us in on your meeting four years ago. I would love to know what happened after she left.”
“Oh, that.” I scratched the back of my neck, the ghost of a grin tugging at my lips along with the memory. “It wasn’t pretty. After Jesse stormed out, Sebastian’s girlfriend showed up. Lola something. She’d seen Jesse, and she was furious. Seeing me just confused her further.”
“I can imagine.”
“She demanded to know where Sebastian was. I pointed down the hall, then ducked into the bathroom. Thirty seconds later, all hell broke loose. That woman had some pair of lungs on her.”
She chuckled. “I’ll bet.”
“Apparently, Lola thought Jesse was the main course, and she was being served leftovers. She transferred a good chunk of whipped cream from Sebastian’s crotch to his face, chucked the keys out the window, and stormed out.”
Sue was doubled over with laughter. “Oh my God! What happened next?”
“You mean after I took a picture?”
She gasped. “You didn’t.”
“Sure I did. It’s what guys do. Then I went to find the keys, set him free, he cleaned up, and neither Lola nor canned whipped cream has ever been allowed back in this apartment.”
She shook her head. “Who thinks Cock à la mode is a good idea while handcuffed?”
“With Sebastian, nothing surprises me. One minute he’s all business, next he’s plotting death-defying stunts—or whipped cream sexcapades.”
“He needs the love of a good woman.”
“At least once a week. He got badly burned when he was young, so monogamy isn’t his thing now. I do think he’s got a soft spot for your friend Jesse.”
“We’ll never know. She can’t stand him.” She pointed to the food. “Shall we?”
I looked around. I’d almost forgotten I had a surprise for her, and this wasn’t the setting I needed.
“Actually, do you mind if we eat at your place?” I said. “It’s cleaner.”
“Sure. I’ll go set the table.”
“Give me ten minutes, I’ll be right over.”
After she left, I went to the bathroom, splashed cold water over my face and brushed my teeth. Shit, I looked tired. But I didn’t feel tired. Excitement pumped through my veins as I went to the bedroom and dug up the treasures I’d prepared for her.
When Sue told me she loved sunflowers, I had made it my life’s mission to bring her some.
Finding sunflowers in April in Manhattan on a Sunday night turned out to be a challenge, but not impossible.
A boutique florist in Brooklyn had a dozen left, hidden in the back cooler.
I convinced the woman to part with them—and to throw in a decent vase—by overpaying and sweet-talking her delivery guy into hopping on the subway.
I also bought chocolates. I told myself it was to cover my bases, but the truth was that I wanted to please her. A spark of happiness in her eyes was a whole damn rainbow in my heart. I wanted her to know that I cared, I listened, I paid attention.
By the time I stood in front of Sue’s door, flower vase in one hand, ribbon-tied box in the other, my heart was doing something embarrassing in my chest. I hadn’t done any grand gestures in a long time, and today I’d already done several. What if she thought I was an idiot?
She opened the door and froze. Her eyes went wide, and then softened, liquefied like flower petals in mist.
“Oh my God,” she squealed, taking the flowers. “Where did you find sunflowers in April? And on a Sunday night!”
She cradled the vase to her chest and I knew I’d done the right thing.
My smile was a mix between cocky and modest. “I made a few calls.” I held out the chocolates. “Flowers felt a little too predictable, so I brought chocolate, too. Just covering all my romantic clichés in one night.”
She let out a breathy laugh. “You’re going for the full Nicholas Sparks starter pack?”
“No idea who that is.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Her voice caught just slightly, and she blinked a few times. “They’re gorgeous. Thank you.”
She cradled the vase to her chest, closing her eyes as she buried her nose in the flowers.
I chuckled. “See, this is what I mean. The look on your face is worth way more than the cost of things. You’re happier about the flowers than about the ring.”
“Well, the flowers were a heartfelt present. I don’t need expensive things to be happy, I already told you that.”
“You did.”
She looked up at me, her expression soft. “I guess that’s hard to believe after being burned by a woman like Britt, huh? But it’s true. These flowers are probably the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever gotten.” She realized we were still standing in the doorway. “Come in.”
She set the vase on the coffee table and leaned in to inhale the fresh, sun-warmed scent.
“My God, these remind me of summers back home, of open fields, bare feet, and skies that never end.”
“Wow.” I was impressed. “That was very poetic. I’m afraid I can’t compare.”
At her blank look, I gestured to the card nestled between the flowers.
Sue pulled it free and opened it. “Thank you for being you—Cam.”
She paused for a second. I was afraid the message was too short and silly, but her smile was brilliant as she turned to me.
“Thank you too, for being you, and for the flowers. I love them.”
My gaze was steady on hers, my voice serious. “My pleasure.”
“There’s a little wine left, if you want some.”
“Sure, thank you.”
As she poured the wine, I looked around. The lights were dimmed to a soft amber glow, the air carried a warm hint of something floral and nostalgic—roses maybe. The stereo played mellow soft rock in the background.
Candles flickered from the table, their flames casting golden highlights on the clean dishes and half-finished bottle of merlot.
She’d set everything out—napkins folded, glasses gleaming.
The atmosphere was romantic, almost seductive.
Had she done this for me? How did she expect the night to end?
The past forty-eight hours had been a blur of improvisation and intensity, too fast to stop and think, let alone figure out how she really felt.