Chapter Four
Preston
I got to the restaurant early, and since there was a wait, put my name down for a table. I was seated fairly quickly for it being dinner time rush and was lucky enough to get us a booth near a prominent water feature right beside the outdoor deck.
The waterfall provided a nice, romantic backdrop for our evening. Not that I was looking to romance Camille – well, maybe part of me was looking to do just that. We still had to get to know one another again, of course. Not to mention the fact that she'd just gotten out of a relationship. So, it was probably wise to take things slow, but maybe over time, this could go somewhere more meaningful.
At the very least, hopefully, we could be friends again. Like old times.
The hostess led Camille to the table, and I stood to greet her. My eyes nearly popped straight out of my skull when I saw her in a fitted red wrap dress that hugged her body perfectly, highlighting her tiny waist and voluptuous hips. Her long, chestnut hair fell over her shoulders in soft waves that rivaled any Cosmopolitan cover model. With lips so perfectly plump and red, eyes deep blue, she was like something out of a magazine. Or a dream.
She smiled as she approached, a shy smile that showed off her dimples. She looked away as she drew closer to the table though, her cheeks flushing pink as if she was embarrassed. Not that she had anything to be embarrassed about. She looked amazing.
“Preston, you look great,” she said, her voice low as we hugged.
It was a stiff, somewhat awkward hug. It was almost as if neither of us knew whether or not to go in for a kiss or not.
“You're absolutely breathtaking,” I whispered into her ear, mid-embrace.
She stepped back, her cheeks brighter red than before, and pushed a strand of hair away from her face. I pulled out her chair for her, and she sat down. I took the seat across from her, completely unable to tear my eyes away from her.
“I've lived in Los Angeles for how long? And I've never been to this place,” she said. “Though everyone raves about it.”
“Oh, you'll see why soon enough,” I said.
I peered at the wine list as she looked over the menu. I already knew what I wanted, but the perfect bottle of wine would help bring the entire meal together. El Placer was high-end Mexican fare with a touch of fresh seafood.
“I always say I'm going to try something new, but I can't resist the Enchiladas de Camerones,” I said, sipping from the water glass as I decided on a wine from Napa Valley.
“Shrimp enchiladas? Can't go wrong with that,” she said. “In fact, I was just looking at that myself.”
“Good choice,” I said.
She closed her menu as the waitress came to take our drink orders.
“I'll take a bottle of Veladora White, please,” I said. “And ceviche to get us started.”
We finished ordering our meal, and then we were alone, staring at each other from across the table. It had been so long, I wasn't even sure what to talk about. I wanted to know everything about her but had no clue where to start. We used to have similar interests in shows and books, but nowadays? Who knew? I really didn't think discussing X-Files would get us anywhere, not after as long as it had been since those days.
“So,” she said, tapping her fingers on the table as her eyes scanned the perimeter, almost like she could pluck a topic of conversation out of thin air. “How have you been?”
“Good,” I said, clasping my hands in front of me on the table. “I finished medical school, worked at a hospital for a while before joining the clinic. I think it's all going really well actually. How about you?”
“Well,” she cleared her throat, “things seemed to be going well for me too. I graduated from college and worked at some boutique firms in New York City, before coming back home. As much I as loved New York, I really, really started to miss the West Coast. I worked for a company here in LA for a bit before I started my own design firm, and that's going extremely well.”
“That's wonderful,” I said, smiling wide. When Camille didn't return the smile, I asked, “So, given your rampant success, how come you don't seem all that happy about it?”
She cocked her head to the side, then let out a sigh as she trailed her fingernails along her arm. It was as if she was trying to distract herself from something. Or maybe, keep herself from talking about something. Finally, she looked up and gave me a small grin.
“You already know about my ex-fiancé and all,” she said. “I'm not sure why I'm beating around the bush with it. Stephen actually owns half of my company, and I have to work with him every day. He's actually the CFO.”
“Ouch.” I cringed, genuinely feeling for her.
Without thinking about it, I placed my hand over hers, as a comforting gesture. Her eyes grew slightly wider, but she didn't pull away.
“Here's hoping I can buy him out,” she grumbled. “But, knowing Stephen, he will stay just to make my life more difficult.”
The waitress bought out our wine and our appetizer, and I did my best to change the subject.
“How's your family been?” I asked. “It's been so long. I'm sure your dad is no longer looking for work?”
She chuckled. “No, he's actually retired now. He hurt himself in the field shortly after he found a job. Mom is still teaching high school though. I doubt she's ever going to quit.”
“The world needs teachers like her,” I said. “Did I ever tell you that she's the reason I decided to go into medicine after all? I mean, I knew my dad wanted me to do it, but she's the one person who helped me realize it was right for me.”
“I had no idea,” she said, a soft smile on her face. “I bet she'd be very happy to hear that.”
“Maybe one day I can see her again and tell her myself,” I said.
As soon as I'd realized what I'd said, I felt a knot in my stomach constrict painfully. I realized too late that although it sounded innocuous, that it could be taken an entirely different way. I opened my mouth quickly and tried to clear it up – and made things worse.
“I mean, not that I think we should –” I stammered. “I just meant--”
“It's alright, Preston,” she laughed. “You were my best friend back in the day. I'm sure my mom would love to see you again. My family has a bar-b-que planned for next Saturday. You're welcome to come if you're interested. As an old friend, of course.”
My face fell. “As much as I'd like to, Camille, I have plans that day already.”
Her smile faltered, but only a bit. She managed to remain cheery, even though I noticed that she slipped her hand away from mine.
“I understand,” she said. “I shouldn't have said anything.”
“No, I'm glad you asked,” I said. “Maybe another time?”
“Sure. Another time,” she said softly, though I couldn't help but hear the disappointment – and skepticism – in her voice.
An awkward silence fell over the table, as both of us tried to think of something to say. I knew so little about Camille these days, except for her medical history and the fact that she was coming off a failed relationship– neither of which would make appropriate dinner-time conversation. She wasn't meeting my gaze anymore either, and I could tell something was wrong. I had a feeling it had to do with the elephant in the room.
After our meal was delivered and our glasses refilled, I figured it was a good idea to bring it up. Hopefully we'd have minimal interruption and could talk things out fully.
“About earlier, in my office,” I said, speaking slowly.
I never took my eyes off her, studying her for any reaction. She looked up and we locked eyes, but it was hard to get a read on her thoughts. She looked a bit panicked, her eyes wide and she was nibbling her lower lip nervously – a tell with her that she'd had since high school. She looked almost ready to jump up and bolt out of the restaurant.
“I'm sorry,” she stammered, just as I'd started to say more.
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” I laughed. “I put the moves on you –”
“That's not how I remember it at all,” she said, picking at the Spanish rice on her plate. “I came on to you, and I shouldn't have. I don't even know if you're married, or have a girlfriend –”
“Stop it,” I said. “Seriously. Stop beating yourself up, Camille. I don't care who started what, I'm glad it happened.”
She looked up at me, her eyes flooded with equal parts relief and surprise. “Y - you are?”
“Yeah, couldn't you tell?” I said, leaning back in my chair. The food in front of me was delicious, but nothing was as tempting as the woman across from me. “I'd wanted you for a long time, Camille. A long time. What happened between us – no matter what comes of it – was amazing and I don't regret it. Not one little bit.”
Her lips drew back into a soft smile, and she was blushing again. “I'm so glad to hear that. I've wanted you too, Preston, for so long,” she said. “Maybe it's not the right time for things – but I can't deny it was amazing.”
“Good. Glad to see we both agree on that,” I said.
I dove into my dinner at long last, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I smiled and gave her a wink.
“And I really hope we can do it again sometime,” I added.
“Me too,” she said, reaching across the table and taking my hand, giving it a soft squeeze.