I was doing it. I was running in the woods, and it wasn’t because I was being pursued by a mass murderer, which was a definite bonus. Cameron had dressed me that morning in one of his thick sweaters that hung down past my knees. I also had my leggings, coat, scarf, gloves, and snow boots on. I looked ridiculous, but I was warm, and getting warmer as we ran through the woods.
After only a week, with Cameron’s encouragement, I was getting to the point that I could keep his pace despite his longer stride, though I was sure he made allowances. But I’d been speed walking around Chicago for a little over ten years, so I already had a fair amount of stamina. And it helped. I was becoming a runner, and the knowledge of that had me blissful as he glanced back at me with a smile.
We didn’t venture far. Cameron told me he wasn’t pushing his luck. But he did bring me to a break in the trees the led to a breathtaking view of a large pond. Surrounded in a winter wonderland, I appreciated everything about the silence that engulfed us. It was a picture-perfect storybook type of isolation with the only person in the world I would want to share it with.
“Not so bad, is it?” he asked, looking back at me as I scoured the sight in front of us.
“It’s beautiful,” I answered, catching my breath before walking toward a small dock.
“There’s a little boat out in the shed next to the house. I saw it last night when I was grilling. I’ll bring you back here this summer and you can read me poetry or Jane Austen, while I row you around.”
“Let’s not get too carried away, Casanova.”
“Too late,” he said as his eyes swept over me. “Too fucking late.” He tugged at my hand, pulling me to him. “You can’t run too much in those boots. It’s not good for you.”
“I know. I just don’t want to break the routine.”
“I’m proud of you. You don’t even look like you want to kick my ass when I show up at your door in the morning.”
“Oh, but I still do,” I said as we shared a grin.
“And it’s just the beginning. Wait until you run your first 5K,” he said with a wink.
A rush of emotion swept over me as I looked up at him.
“What are you thinking?”
I swallowed.
“Okay,” he said playfully, “now I have to know.”
“I don’t know how to say this without geeking out.”
“Abbie, you can tell me anything.”
“It’s just . . .” I frowned to keep my chin from wobbling, but the tears sprang up anyway.
“Baby, what is it?” he asked, his hands cupping my face.
“It’s like when people say they can’t swim, I have a hard time believing them because it came so naturally to me. Some people are terrified of the water, and treading it seems simplistic. I mean, it’s not exactly swimming, but it serves the purpose. For most, it’s like a natural reflex. But treading water isn’t swimming.”
“Okay,” he said, biting his lip.
“Okay, so, shit.” A tear fell, and before I could wipe it away, he leaned in and took it with his lips as my heart swelled.
“I feel like before I met you, I was treading water and . . . God, am I making any sense right now?”
“Perfect sense,” he said softly.
“It’s not just running, Cameron. It’s us too.”
“I feel the same, more than I can explain. More than you could ever know.” He searched my eyes. “Why couldn’t I have met you ten years ago?” he added, taking me by surprise. “What were you doing when you were twenty-three, Abbie?”
“College, then work—so much work. I worked too hard.”
“Same here. I can’t say I did one significant thing in my life then, besides becoming a coach. And seeing your face right now is such a high. I love watching it happen. You thank me, but you are the one who did all the hard work.”
I shook my head. “No, you don’t get it. I gave up. Without you, I wouldn’t have given running a second thought again. I never thought I could be that woman. This woman. It seems simplistic, but it’s anything but for me. Running has been my Achilles heel my whole life. My whole life,” I said as my chin wobbled and more tears threatened. “So, thank you.”
“This,” he said softly. “This right here is why I do it. The look on your face. I love pushing people past what they think they can handle, past what they think they’re capable of. As your boyfriend, I think you’re getting good at it, and I’m proud of you. But as your coach, I can’t wait to see where you go with it next.”
“You really love it, don’t you? Being a coach.”
“Yeah. I do. It’s everything to me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I ventured out into something different with the stores. Coaching part-time at a private school doesn’t pay much, but coaching has always been my dream.”
“Not to play professionally?”
“No. I mean, I guess it could have been, but it was training that appealed to me more. I like the tactics of it. And I got lucky with a lot of my coaches. I had one in high school, Coach Bryant. He was a mentor. I had so much respect for him and for the way he spoke to people. He would lose his shit, like any other man passionate about the game, but he always had this dignity about him. An air about him that seemed unfit for modern society. You didn’t fuck with him, no one really did. He was damn good at his job. I kind of aspired to be just like him.”
“What makes you think you aren’t?”
Cameron shook his head. “I could never be him.”
“How do you know?”
“Life told me so.” His face darkened briefly and then it was gone. I should have pressed him for more at that moment. I could have told him he exuded all of those qualities in droves. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him so, but instead, I showed him by letting him grab my gloved hand and lead me through the trees.
“Shit!” Cameron exclaimed from the porch just as I emerged from the bedroom, freshly showered. I slid open the glass door and saw the grill was covered in flames.
“Oh shit!” I said as he tried to slap them out with his iron spatula. “What do you need?”
“A do-over,” he said with a laugh as he shut the lid to suffocate the fire then turned the gas off. When he opened it back up, the chicken was black. He stabbed the burned meat with a large fork and held it toward me. “Dinner is ready,” he announced.
I wrinkled my nose. “I think I’ll pass. I saw some things in the cabinet. I’ve got dinner covered.”
“You deem this unfit for consumption, woman?!”
I kissed his cheek. “You don’t have to do all the cooking. I can earn my keep. Give me half an hour.”
“Okay, but you’re missing out.”
My mother was an amazing cook. She could take anything in the cabinets and turn it into a king’s feast in a matter of minutes. My skills were subpar at best. I never really took the time to watch and learn from her. But I was sure I could muster up something more edible than charred chicken. After five minutes of studying the cabinets, I decided to send out an SOS and call my mom while Cameron sat in the living room watching soccer.
“Mom, I need your help,” I said in a whisper once she answered.
“What’s wrong, honey? You didn’t answer last night when I called.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’m with someone.”
“Oh?” she asked.
“Long story short, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now. He’s amazing, and I’ll tell you all about him soon, but I need some cooking advice.”
“Okay, step back and walk away.”
“Not funny,” I said with a hand on my hip she couldn’t see.
“I think it is,” she said with a light laugh. “Take your hand off your hip, brat. I’ll help you.”
“We aren’t in the position to get to the store, and this place is stocked with everything, but I can’t think of a single thing to make.”
“Okay, give me the run down.”
I listed off everything in the cabinets, fridge, and freezer.
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because I don’t want him to think I can’t cook.”
“You can’t cook. I bet you wish you would have helped in the kitchen more rather than whined.”
“Mom, I’m glad you think this is funny, but I really, really like him. Okay?”
“Why haven’t I heard about him before now?”
“Because I wasn’t sure, and parents don’t need to know every hit or miss of their daughter’s dating life. Don’t be hurt. I wanted to make sure it was something before I told you. So, will you help me?”
“Sure, you can bring him to dinner next week.”
“No way. Too soon.”
“But we are negotiating,” she said with a playful lift.
“No, we’re not. Mom. Help me, okay? I don’t have time to look up recipes and I kind of want to impress him,” I whispered.
“Does this man have a name?”
“For you? Not yet.”
“Fine, but I want dinner with you. Next week.”
“Done,” I gritted out. “And I would have come anyway.”
“I’ll text you a recipe.”
“Thanks, Mom. I love you.”
“And, Abbie?”
“Yeah?” I whispered as I looked back at Cameron, who was sitting on the edge of the couch, his eyes fixed on the TV. I briefly daydreamed about a future where getaways became our ritual.
“If all else fails, add more butter.”
“Okay.”
More minutes than my promised half hour later, I had my mother’s creamy rosemary chicken on a bed of pasta and a tossed salad on the table. I was happy with the execution, and Cameron seemed to be as well as he closed his eyes with his first bite.
“This is incredible.”
“Thank you,” I boasted as he inhaled a mouthful of pasta.
“So, I think it’s time you had me over for dinner,” he said with a wink.
“Do you?” I said in a slight panic. I could have Mrs. Zingaro give me her recipe for ziti. That would buy me a week.
Cameron’s next words cut through my thoughts. “How is your mother?”
“She’s fi—” I deadpanned. “You’re an ass, you know that? And how could you have possibly heard that conversation?”
“You get good picking it up being a high school coach. And, Abbie,” he said around a mouthful of garlic toast, “it’s good to know you really, really like me.”
My face flamed as he devoured the chicken on his plate and forked another piece out of the cast iron skillet. I stood from the table to get the bottle of wine. He circled my waist with his arm and pulled me onto his waiting lap.
“Where are you going?”
“To get some wine. Want some?” I asked as he moved my hair away from my shoulder and rested his chin on my neck.
“Nope.” He twisted his fork, gaining a bite of pasta and brought it to my mouth. I opened and took it, chewing as he repeated the motion. “I have a plate of my own, Coach.”
“Yeah,” he said, moving his free hand underneath my borrowed flannel before trailing lazy fingers along my stomach. “But I’m not finished wooing.”
“Back to reality,” I said, mourning the end of our long weekend as Cameron closed the door to the cabin. We’d spent every second in bed that morning until we had no choice but to clean up and head out. My heart was sinking at the loss of it.
He gripped me in his strong embrace. “Okay, so this isn’t our every day,” he said, commanding my eyes, “but there will be plenty of this in our future for as long as you want it.”
I kissed him soundly on the mouth. “Consider that my RSVP. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ll miss the woods.”
“We’ll be back. This isn’t the last time, okay?”
“Okay.” You are ridiculous, Abbie.
He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead and led me down the steps, his duffle bag in hand as I took one last look at the cabin. We’d played house for a weekend and it was more than nice. It was heaven.
“What are you thinking?” he asked as he opened the passenger side door and I climbed into the Audi.
“Just that I’m glad we waited. And now I’m glad we’ve stopped waiting.”
I clicked my seatbelt.
His hands rested on either side of the doorframe. “It was hell not being able to touch you, but I wouldn’t change a thing.”
When I was comfortable, he closed the door and walked in front of the hood as I dreaded the empty house waiting for me.
We sat in the idling SUV for a moment longer before Cameron placed his hand on my headrest and twisted his body for a clear view to exit the driveway. While the scent of his cologne and his proximity knocked me senseless, I pressed my lips to his Adam’s apple and kept them there. He stopped the truck at the edge of the driveway, put it in park, and stared at me long and hard before he spoke.
“I know something happened. Something that you don’t want to tell me about yet. It’s painfully obvious, but I want you to know this is not over between us, not by a longshot.”
“I know.”
He leaned over. “Are you sure? Because I get the feeling you aren’t.”
“I’m sorry I make you feel that way.” I sank into my seat, hating the fact that I needed so much reassurance. But he’d been consistent every step of the way. I had no reason to doubt him. I averted my eyes, my heart pounding.
“Look at me,” he whispered. “I’m with you.”
I couldn’t help but remember Bree declaring her and Anthony were on another level in Scotland. It rang true for Cameron and me as I looked into his earnest eyes.
He took my hand and pressed it to his chest before he leaned in and took my lips. His kiss was slow, thorough, and I “hmmed” happily and smiled as he pulled away.
“You’re an excellent coach.”