~Cami~
“I love sleeping in,” I say with a big yawn, and smile at Scoot, who is perched on my vanity desk, watching me get ready for my day.
Landon just left for work, after bringing me a mug of coffee and then letting it get cold while he reminded me just how much he loves me in the shower. Of course, then he was late and had to dash out the door, but I don’t have to hurry today. My work is caught up and I don’t have any meetings or calls until noon.
I sip my now cool coffee, not caring in the least that it’s not hot, and run a comb through my damp hair, slather on some face moisturizer, and while that soaks in, I lift my blow dryer.
I close my eyes and enjoy the warm air, sighing contentedly. My body feels . . . well loved and sated, which sounds corny even to me, like something out of a book, but that’s the best way to describe it. I have sore muscles in places I never even knew I had muscles.
Good job, Landon.
I grin and set the dryer down, then frown when I can’t find the eye shadow I just pulled out of a drawer a minute ago. I glance to the floor, then glare at Scoot.
“Stop pushing my stuff on the floor, you little menace.”
Scoot simply blinks at me with those big, yellow eyes. He’s too adorable to get mad at. At least, now that my wounds have healed, that is. As I reach for a brush to start applying makeup, my package of pills catches my eye.
“Can’t forget this,” I say, and push a pill out of the packet, then wash it down with a sip of the cold coffee. “And I’m almost out. Don’t let me forget to call in for a refill.” I scratch Scoot behind the ears. “You’re the only baby I need around here for a while.”
“Meow,” he says, as if he agrees, and pushes his face into my hand.
“Aw, you’re coming around, little guy.” I grin and return my attention to the mirror, just as Scoot bats an eye shadow back onto the floor. “You’re coming around just in time to irritate me.”
I bend and pick up my favorite Urban Decay. “Stop that.”
Scoot goes to work bathing his tail, as if he doesn’t have any idea what I’m talking about. “Yeah, you’re not innocent.”
I give him one last stern look, which doesn’t seem to faze him in the least, and set to work on my makeup, which on a day like today takes only a few minutes.
But it gives me quiet time to think, and there hasn’t been a lot of that lately.
My life has changed in the last few months. I mean, for the most part it’s the same. My friends, my job, my home are all the same. But with Landon in my life, it feels so much bigger. Full.
Just when I think I can’t love him more, he says or does something like this morning that tips me over into that more category.
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I see Scoot reach his little paw out and bat at my mascara until clunk, it’s on the floor.
“I saw that,” I say without looking directly at him. He watches me for a heartbeat, then bats my eye shadow onto the floor, and without a pause, sends my blush over for good measure. “Who taught you to be such a pain in the ass?”
“Meow.”
“Yeah, meow yourself.” I pick him up and put him on the floor and point at his face. “Stay down.”
I reach for my mascara and decide to hurry before Scoot jumps back up to wreak more havoc, then sit back and stare at my own reflection. “You’re being bullied by your cat.” I shake my head. “Sad.”
Apparently, that’s his cue to jump back up again and sit, his tail swooshing over the side. “You’re a bad cat.”
“Meow.”
“Well, as long as you know.” I quickly finish my makeup and stow it away before Scoot can use it for hockey practice again. “Come on, bad cat. Let’s get dressed. I have some shoes you can hide behind, but if you so much as lay a paw on them, it’s off to the pound for you.”
“WHY DO YOU have bite marks on your Jimmy Choos?” Riley asks as she sits next to me at the bar. Kat’s pouring us both some wine.
“Because I have a suicidal cat,” I reply, and sip the cool, crisp Chardonnay. Leave it to Riley to see the tiny marks on my heel.
“Excuse me?” Riley says.
“I warned him not to touch them, but I screwed up and left them on the floor and I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, there he was, nibbling.”
“Maybe your cat doesn’t speak English,” Kat says. “Maybe he’s Spanish. Or French.”
“Well, then I’m screwed because I don’t know either of those languages,” I reply, and frown as I stare down in my glass. “He’s just going to eat all of the shoes.”
“Who’s eating what shoes?” Landon asks as he wraps his arms around me and buries his nose in my neck. “You smell delicious.”
I grin as Kat rolls her eyes. “Her cat apparently eats shoes for breakfast.”
“Scoot ate your shoes?” He rests his chin on my shoulder.
“He gnawed on them,” I reply with a sigh. “And they’re designer.”
“Maybe it’s because you pile all of your shoes in a mountain in the middle of your microscopic closet,” Riley says.
“I keep most of them in boxes, but the ones that I wear a lot do end up on the floor.”
“I’m building your closet,” Landon says, his voice pure silk next to my ear. He could be reciting the freaking alphabet for all I care. My imaginary panties are sopping wet.
“Oh God, she’s biting her lip,” Kat says to Riley. “Stop turning her on while she’s working.”
“I’m not working,” I whisper, and close my eyes. “Say something else.”
I feel his lips curl into a grin against my ear. “I’m going to make you dinner tonight.”
“We’re meeting Brian and his new girlfriend for dinner.” But hot damn, my nipples are hard.
“Brian has a new girlfriend?” Riley asks.
“And I’m going to run you a hot bath when we get home,” he continues, as if no one said anything at all, “and then I’m going to wash you from head to toe.”
“I need another drink,” Riley mutters as Landon plants his lips against my ear and whispers.
“And then I’m going to fuck you against the vanity in your bathroom.”
Oh God.
I swallow hard as he kisses my cheek and pulls away from me, my back suddenly cold where he had been pressing against me.
“You seduced her into a coma,” Kat says. “Good one.”
“It’s been way too long since I last got laid,” Riley grumbles as I blink my eyes open and swallow hard, shifting on my stool.
“Well, I guess we should go,” I stammer, needing to clear my throat twice.
“Can you walk?” Kat asks with a smirk.
“Of course I can walk,” I reply. Jesus, I hope I can walk.
“Ready?” Landon asks, offering me his hand. When my gaze climb up his body, his eyes are hot, watching me carefully with not a little humor.
“Are you enjoying this?” I ask as I take his hand and scoot off the stool.
“More than you can ever imagine,” he says, and chuckles. “Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.”
Before he can lead me out of the room, I lean in, gesturing for him to bend down so I can whisper in his ear. “I’m not wearing any underwear under this skirt. That ought to give you something to think about.”
I pull away as Kat and Riley bust out laughing. Landon’s lips twitch, his eyes are no less hot.
“How could you hear that? I was whispering!”
“Sweetheart,” Kat says, saluting me with a glass, “you must have learned to whisper while riding in a helicopter in the middle of a hurricane.”
“Are you saying I’m not subtle?”
“You’ve never been subtle,” Landon says, hitching a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Come on, let’s get to dinner before I pull you into your office and take your desk for a spin.”
“Ew. We work in there, Landon.” Riley frowns as Kat just laughs and waves at us. Landon guides me out to his car, and when we’re both inside, before I can buckle my seat belt, he leans over and slides his hand up my leg and under my skirt, and directly to my dripping-wet pussy.
“Mm, you’re really not wearing any underwear,” he says, his lips centimeters from mine.
“I don’t lie about underwear.”
“So I see.” His finger slides over my clit and through my folds, then slips all the way inside me.
“Oh, fuck.”
“I’m going to put a lot more than my finger in here tonight, Cami,” he whispers. “I want you to stay wet, just like this, all night.”
“Well, you’re doing a good job of making sure that happens,” I reply, and push my hips against his hand. “You’re good at that.”
“I know.”
Suddenly he’s gone, starting the car, but before he can pull into traffic, I grab his wrist and pull his finger to my mouth, licking it clean.
“Do we really have to go to this dinner?” he asks, watching me intently.
“Yep.” I release his hand and buckle in, trying to look cool and unfazed, but my heart is beating overtime and my core is pulsing with pure need. Jesus, he turns me on. I swallow hard and try to distract us both. “How was your day? What’s new and exciting?”
“Day was fine,” he says, checking his blind spot and pulling out behind a Volvo. “I got my travel itinerary for next week, finally.”
“Wait. What travel itinerary?” This is news to me.
“Damn, I forgot to tell you.” He smiles over at me and pats my knee. “You have a habit of distracting me.”
“Okay, tell me now.” Is this where he tells me that he’s leaving? It’s no secret that Landon loves to travel, to experience different places.
“I have to go to San Diego next week to meet up with an old friend of mine who’s offered me a job.”
He’s taking a job in freaking San Diego?
I frown and cross my arms over my chest.
“When are you moving?”
“Moving?” I close my eyes and pray that the tears don’t fall while he’s watching. “Cami, I’m not moving.”
He’s not moving this week. But next week he’s going to San Diego for a potential job.
“Cami, look at me.”
But I can’t. I can’t look him in the eye, when I’m still hot and wet, craving him, as he tells me that it’s been fun but it’s almost time for him to move on.
Suddenly he pulls into a parking lot and throws the car out of gear.
“Camille, look at me.”
“You know, maybe we don’t have to go out for dinner with Brian and his girlfriend after all. You can just take me home.”
He takes my shoulders in his hands and forces me to face him, a frown on his handsome face. “I’m not moving, Cam.”
“You’ve been here longer than you have been in the past, and I know you like to travel, Landon.”
“So you’re just waiting for me to bail?” he asks, shaking his head. “No. I’m going down to train for a job that I can do here.”
“Here?”
“Yes, as a flight instructor.”
I stare at him in disbelief, and then, as his words sink in, I let out a loud laugh. “Right.”
“Why is the thought of me teaching people to fly so funny?”
“You can’t fly. You’re not medically cleared for it.”
His jaw ticks before he says, “In a classroom.”
I still and watch him carefully for a long moment. “You’re okay with teaching people to fly in a classroom?”
He nods once and looks down at my lap. “It’s still teaching, and it’s being around planes, and people passionate about them. I miss it, babe. But the job is here, not in Southern California. I’ll be managing the whole operation.”
“Wow.” I take a deep breath, my whole body ready to sag with relief. “You’d be great at running an operation like that.”
He drags his fingertips down my cheek. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” I nod and smile, but part of me is still hesitant.
“I’ll only be gone for a few days, Cami.”
“I’m fine. Really.” I sit back and lick my lips. “Congratulations. This is great news.”
“Thank you.” He watches me for a minute, then starts the car again. “I have no interest in leaving here. I’m happy.”
“Good.” I grin over at him and take his hand in mine, linking our fingers. “I’m happy too.”
“SO, THE LADY gave us the keys to the room, and then she said, ‘Don’t mind the ghost. She doesn’t take up much room.’” Stephanie, Brian’s new and completely adorable girlfriend, shakes her auburn head and smiles as she takes a bite of her salad. “I mean, I don’t believe in ghosts, so I was like, okay! But I think Brian was a little creeped out.”
“I was not creeped out,” Brian says as he watches the adorable Stephanie with big love-sick eyes as she continues to tell us all about their trip to Victoria Island for the weekend.
“He kind of was,” she says, leaning toward me like we’re conspiring against him. “But we didn’t see or hear any ghosts.”
“I’m pretty sure I heard a door slam in the middle of the night,” Brian says as he butters another piece of bread.
“You were snoring like crazy,” Stephanie replies. “You didn’t hear anything.”
“I don’t snore,” he insists.
“Yes, you do,” I reply, and roll my eyes.
“See!” Stephanie exclaims, pointing at me. “You do.”
“Takes one to know one,” Landon mutters, earning an elbow in his side.
“You know, I think it’s great that y’all are friends,” Stephanie says, the South thick in her voice.
“You do?” I ask, surprised.
“Sure. I mean, so many of my divorced friends are bitter and angry and have nothing but shit to say about their exes. It’s refreshing to know a couple who realized they just weren’t right for each other and moved on. No bitterness, no anger, just friendship.”
“It took us a little while to get here,” I reply, holding Brian’s eyes with mine. There was a time when Brian was angry, and for good reason. “But you’re right, we are good friends.”
“Well, I like it,” Stephanie says, and raises her glass. “To friendship.”
“To friendship.”
Dinner is relaxed and fun, and I find myself really enjoying Stephanie, and Brian as well. He’s different with her. More laid-back. More attentive.
Better.
And I couldn’t be happier for them.
After we’ve demolished dinner and dessert, we go our separate ways, and Landon drives us back to my place.
“Tonight was interesting,” he says thoughtfully.
“I had fun.”
“That’s why it was interesting,” he replies as he parks at my house and walks me to the door.
“Me having fun is interesting?” I push inside and toss my keys and bag on the table beside the door.
“You just had dinner with your boyfriend, your ex-husband, and his new girlfriend.”
“Thanks for the recap, but I was there.” I kiss Landon’s bicep, then walk toward the kitchen.
“You seem pretty chipper for someone whose ex is moving on with someone new.”
“I moved on with someone new.” I shrug and grab a bottle of water out of the fridge. “Landon, Brian and I have been over for a very long time.”
“Mia mentioned that you used to try to set him up with women.”
“All the time,” I confirm.
“Why?”
This makes me pause and frown at my bottle of water. Landon and I have been together long enough that I can come clean about my relationship with Brian. So I take a deep breath and raise my eyes to his.
“I felt so guilty I thought I’d die with it.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I left.” I shrug and begin pacing the kitchen. I always pace when I think. “Honestly, Brian and I got married because we’d dated in college and it seemed like that was the logical next step. He’s a nice guy, has a decent job, good credit score. On paper, we’re an excellent match.
“But I shouldn’t have married him in the first place. He was madly in love, and I did and still do care for him, but I wasn’t in love with him the way I should have been to get married. And after a few years, it became apparent to me that I never would love him the way a woman should love her husband.”
“Why not?” Landon asks softly, but I just keep talking.
“So I told him that I wanted a divorce, and he acted like it was this big shock, but I don’t see how it could have been. There was no passion, no adventure in our relationship. And at first he was so hurt that he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as me. But over time, we talked more and we both agreed that ours wasn’t what a marriage should be. And I just couldn’t bear the thought of Brian being alone, so I started trying to set him up, which he hated.”
I laugh and look over at Landon, who’s sitting at the island, watching me pace.
“Why weren’t you in love with him, Cami?”
I shake my head and continue. “But it’s clear that he didn’t need my help at all. Stephanie is great. I like her. She’s pretty, and funny, and honestly, I think she’s someone that I could be friends with. And did you see how he looks at her? He’s so happy. And that just makes me happy.”
Having run out of steam, and things to say, I lean back against the counter and cross my arms.
“Why?” he asks again, holding my gaze.
“You know why,” I whisper, and bite my lip, horrified that I’ll cry.
Landon stands and walks over to me, caging me in the way he did in this very spot weeks ago when he first kissed me.
“Tell me,” he whispers, pushing my hair over my shoulder and cupping my neck in his palm, his thumb grazing over the skin of my chin.
“I’ve always been in love with you, Landon.”
He exhales slowly and leans into me, but rather than kiss me passionately and boost me up on the countertop to fuck me senseless, he brushes his lips gently over my forehead and pulls me into his arms, hugging me softly. “Same here, sweetheart.”