Camille recoiled at the look on Jackson’s face. Icy calm was his highest expression of rage, something she’d seen only once or twice in their ten years of friendship. He’d just hung up the call with his father and hadn’t addressed her confession at all. What his father had said was inexcusable. But was she going to be blamed for it?

“Jackson, please come back in here. Let’s talk about this.”

“Not right now, honey. I’m starving. You must be too.”

He moved efficiently through the kitchen, gathering plates, utensils, and platters. He set the table, put all the food out, and sat down while she stood frozen in the bedroom doorway, growing more and more concerned.

“Come, sit down, Cam. The food’s getting cold.”

She grabbed a robe from the back of the door and did as she was told. “Jackson…”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. The other reason for the sabbatical is that the next book is going to require a ton of research. I’m looking at the mindset of longevity in intimate relationships. And I was hoping you would help me with it.”

Camille struggled to hold back the tears burning across her temples. He would never have stated this so casually if he was in his right mind.

He continued. “But now, I think it’s probably best if I just quit outright. I mean, I really only got that job to impress my father, so he could say, ‘My son teaches at Stanford’, instead of being constantly embarrassed that I only write pop psychology books with no intellectual value.”

She reached out and touched her fingertips to his forearm. He looked down at her hand, as if it had appeared from a different planet. Then she noticed the quake in his shoulders and the cloudiness in his eyes. Camille pushed out of her chair and pulled his head into her body. The move released the last of the hold he had, and he exploded into her, shaking and sobbing. She stroked his hair, whispered to him, and held on.

They went straight to bed after dinner, even though it was barely 9pm. He laid his head on her chest.

Her heart broke for him. “Jackson, you’ve always been the strongest person I know. I want to help you through this, but I just don’t know what to do. I’m sorry. I wish I could be better at this.”

“Cam, there’s nothing you need to do. This isn’t your problem.”

She shifted his head to catch his eye. “Please don’t say that. Of course it’s my problem. Because something is hurting you. And I want to help.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay? Goodnight, love.”

She wondered when they were going to talk about it at all.

Jonathan King was a bit of a legend in Silicon Valley. First as one of the hi-tech originals, then as a brilliant investor and the man behind many of the newest generation of success stories. He had the magic touch in technology. When he walked through the maze of one of the programming floors at Google, whispers followed him like a celebrity sighting. He appeared at Camille’s door, just as his son had several years before. What was with these King men, thinking that they could just show up at her place of work?

“Mr. King.”

He placed his hands on the back of the chair meant for visitors. And for sitting. “We have a problem, Camille.”

“I know. I’m sorry about what happened. It just wasn’t right for me to keep a secret from Jackson-”

“It’s fine. I should have known. Now, the only question is, how are we going to fix it?”

Her eyes narrowed. “We?”

His attention moved to the mess on her desk. “Clearly, I need your help to make a case with my son. He refuses to communicate. It’s been days. I’m sure you can talk some sense into him.”

Camille tried to inconspicuously bring the scattered papers into a neat stack. “I appreciate you coming all the way down here, but there’s no way I can get in the middle. This is between you and your son, and anything I might do would look like taking sides. I really don’t want to do that.”

He took one step back. “I’m disappointed by that, Camille.”

She steeled herself for some further elaboration or a repeat of the request. Instead, he stood silent.

Camille watched one of the assistants approach the office, stop abruptly, and turn around. There was no winning a stand-off against Jonathan King, who was nearly as hard to refuse as his son. “Alright. Let me talk to him and see what can be done.”

“That sounds fine. Thank you.” His expression snapped from steely to smiling.

“Mr. King?”

“Yes, dear.” Even the tone of his voice softened. This was how she was used to him - kind, caring, even a tiny bit sweet.

“I suggest being honest with Jackson. For whatever reason, he’s felt rejected by you his whole life. I think this was his last straw. Perhaps figuring out why he had that idea, and how you can convince him otherwise, would be a good start.”

He nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jonathan patted the back of the chair before walking out of the office. Camille fell back into her chair, heart pounding, wondering how her life had all of a sudden become theatrical.

---

Camille waited two days to bring up the issue. She hoped Jackson would have changed his mind and offered to talk about it. He never did.

She approached him at his desk in the spare room furiously typing on his computer. She put her hands on his shoulders. “Your dad came to see me. A couple days ago.”

He didn’t stop typing. “Yes. He’s been sending me messages. Wants to talk.” He looked up at her. “I’m disappointed it took you this long to tell me. I didn’t realize we were keeping secrets.”

Now everyone was disappointed.

Camille shook her head. “I waited because I thought time would provide some perspective. You can’t just pretend nothing is happening. And it’s going to be very difficult to avoid your father for the rest of your life.”

“I do difficult things all the time.” The gravel of his voice was full of rage and spite.

She took her hands off him and stepped back. “Are you angry with me?”

He turned to face her. “I’m frustrated. I’ve told you I don’t want to discuss this with you, and I certainly don’t want you involved, but you keep pushing it.”

Her heart pounded in her ears. “Why don’t you want me involved?”

“You and my Dad have some weird thing. I don’t know if he wants you or pities you or something else. But clearly you don’t see straight about each other.”

The last threads of her compassion and control burst into flames. “You have no right, Jackson. You have no fucking right!”

She stormed into the bedroom to gather her things, her entire body pulsing with rage. That was the single cruelest thing he had ever said to her. She could hardly recognize the man she thought she knew so well. It wasn’t even clear whose clothes she was shoving into her bag. She just needed to get out of there.

He stopped her as she headed toward the door. “I’m sorry, Cam. What I said was crass. Don’t rush out of here like this.”

“Are you not quite done lashing out at me? Because I’m done.”

Panic filled his expression as he gripped her arms tightly. “Cam. Don’t do this. You know I’m heading out of town tomorrow, and I don’t want to leave it like this. I apologize for what I said. Now let’s move on.”

She pushed his hands off her. “Goodbye, Jackson. Have fun in LA.” She did not even close the door behind her, just kept walking.

---

It was a relief to bury herself in work while Jackson was out of town. She had been distracted by their relationship, but now that he wasn’t around, and she was furious with him, it was easy to get lost in the world of logic and numbers. The fact that he had not reached out to her helped keep the idea of him away. It was Angie, one of the pool of assistants they shared, who let her know about the picture.

Camille was initially annoyed at the interruption, having immersed herself in the most recent coding issue wreaking havoc with their largest partner.

“Hey, Camille, you’re friends with Jackson King, right? He’s all over the internet!”

Camille squinted at the screen full of data. “Yes, Angie. He gets a lot of media attention.”

“No, I mean, right now. Did you know about him and Kate Harlow?”

Camille’s head snapped up. “What are you talking about?”

Angie pulled out her phone, scrolled for a few seconds, then pointed the screen at Camille.

There it was in full color. Jackson wrapped around a woman whose face was mostly buried in his neck. The remainder of her however, looked very much like Kate Harlow, award-winning actress and scandal queen. The headline read: The mystery man behind Kate Harlow’s messy divorce.

Camille’s mouth went so dry she could not speak. Angie backed out of her office stuttering about something Camille didn’t try to understand.

Like the final puzzle piece, it all fit together. Her nagging fears, Jackson’s silence, and of course, his father’s prediction. Their relationship was a few weeks old and he was already unfaithful. It was humiliation on a globally public scale.

---

When she walked into her apartment at the end of the day to find him sitting on her couch, Camille could not even scream. She had not anticipated seeing him for a very long time.

“Cam.” He ran over to hug her, but she stepped out of his reach. “You’re still mad at me.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I just got back from LA, and I came straight here. I needed to see you. And tell you how sorry I am for what I said. I’ve been out of my mind. I feel like everything’s in a big, twisted, jumbled mess. I can’t make my way through it without you.”

“Well, you’re going to have to.” Camille walked over to the coffee table and put her bags down.

“Why are you saying that? Because of my father?”

“I don’t give a shit about your nonsense with your father. You two can go kill each other, for all I care. Manipulating me has been a pastime for both of you, and I’m done.”

Jackson pulled the hair off his face, desperation darkening his expression. “Camille, I don’t know where this is coming from. Please tell me what you mean.”

“I mean he was right! Your father predicted your behavior to a T. I would never have expected that within minutes of saying goodbye to me, you’d be fucking around again. How long did it take Jackson? And you didn’t even have the decency to stay behind closed doors. You had to get your face plastered all over the whole fucking internet!”

His fingers raked across the edge of his jaw, his eyes whipping from side to side. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sarcasm spilling from every word, she responded. “Really? Google yourself.”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. With a small number of clicks, swipes and taps, he appeared to discover some of the photos that Camille had seen earlier that day. “Holy shit. I had no idea…”

“Sucks getting caught, doesn’t it?”

“Getting caught?” He walked over to stand directly in front of her. “What is it that you think I was doing?” There was not a touch of softness in his voice.

“It’s pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me.”

She wasn’t going to back down, no matter how inscrutable he was being. “Well, clearly, you are fucking her.”

“Clearly, huh? Okay. Let’s say I’m fucking her.” He bore down on her. “Why am I here? Why am I in your apartment right now, and not with her, fucking?”

Camille could not answer.

He bobbed his head. “So, it makes sense in your head that I would profess my love to you, practically beg you to be with me, and then run off to screw some other woman?”

“Jackson, it looks-”

“I know what it looks like, Camille. You’re just supposed to know better. I guess you and my father have more in common than I thought.”

He was across the apartment and out the door before she could catch her breath.

---

Camille held herself up by pushing down into the table behind her. She desperately wanted to sort the events of the past three days into right and wrong, but the tangle was unmanageable. In the wrong column was her accusation of his infidelity. He was right - she should have known better. That was not his style. There must have been another explanation. Also in the wrong column was what he said to her before he left for LA. Neither of them were in the clear.

Camille took her time to compose a message to him late that night.

---

---

The next day she sat in her car, in front of his house, for twenty minutes, considering what she wanted out of this interaction with Jackson. Perhaps they were going to renegotiate their relationship, returning to their previous friendship. Perhaps this rift had shattered everything. This possibility created a ball of fire in her abdomen. Losing Jackson was not something she could survive. Especially after everything she’d already lost.

She entered the house using her key and called out to him. Jackson was nowhere to be found, and wasn’t answering. She made her way from room to room until she heard clanging downstairs. He must be in the gym.

She saw him when she was halfway down the stairs, shirtless, hanging from the pull-up bar, earbuds in his ears, glistening with sweat. Every muscle of his back created a signature carving, like the finest sculpture. Camille knew that being just friends was never going to work. Not with the effect that a glimpse of his body had on hers.

He dropped down to the ground, bent over and picked up a bar loaded with weights. She made her way over to him and touched his back. He was in the middle of a lift, and nearly dropped the weights, startled by her appearance. He put the bar down and pulled out the earbuds.

“Cam. I didn’t hear you. Sorry.”

She bit her lower lip - hard - trying to stifle the tremor. “You’re busy. I can come back later.”

He clasped her wrist. “No! I’m glad you’re here. Let me dry off and I’ll meet you back upstairs. Pour yourself a glass of wine, if you like.”

She glanced back at him, rubbing a towel over his face, as she ascended the stairs.

A glass of wine would do just fine.

He appeared in the kitchen as she was putting the cork back in the bottle. She had poured herself a very generous glass of the Italian red that was already open on his counter. He got a glass of water for himself.

“Should I jump in the shower?”

“No. I don’t want to wait.”

He nodded but didn’t speak.

“I am incredibly uncomfortable right now, Jackson. I don’t like this feeling. Not with you. Not ever.”

“I understand. We’re working with some intense material.”

She gave him a look that she hoped communicated a lack of interest in him putting on his psychologist hat. “I’d like to speak with Jackson, my friend, and not Dr. King, please.”

He took a big gulp of water. “Have I been demoted back to friend?”

“That’s what we’re here to talk about, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t know that was on the table, Camille.”

A tired breath rushed from her body. She walked out of the kitchen and sat on the couch. “Tell me what happened in LA.”

He joined her. “It’s not something I should be talking about.”

Her body stiffened. “Are you kidding me? How many millions of people saw those pictures, Jackson?!”

“She’s a patient, Cam. I’ve been working with her and Jim on their reconciliation. I was at their house, and I think she was hugging me goodbye when those pictures were taken. I am absolutely not romantically involved with Kate Harlow. Or anybody else, for that matter.” He looked up at her. “Except for you.”

Camille pressed her lips together.

“Do you believe me, Cam?”

She took a sip of wine and a deep breath. “Yes, I do.” It was a relief to say it.

He dropped his shoulders with a loud sigh. When he turned his head up to face her again, his expression was pained. “I’ve been thinking about what happened. Obsessively. I think we had parallel experiences.”

“Please explain.”

“Well, you know how you’ve had this idea of me as a womanizer… you called me a man-whore once.” Camille flinched with shame. “Then my father told you I would hurt you, that I wouldn’t change my ways. So when you saw those pictures, the image was filtered through the idea of my being unfaithful and untrustworthy. I wanted you to trust what you knew about me, but maybe that was unfair. Maybe you could not have actually made a different assessment.”

As usual, Jackson made perfect sense. “And your experience?”

“I had this idea that you and my father were colluding. You were having all these secret meetings that he was exaggerating and you were hiding. When you wouldn’t let it go, I was just convinced he was in your ear. You had taken his side, and you would be rejecting me.” He pulled at the whiskers on his chin. “Which you did.”

“But I didn’t.”

“What you accused me of, Cam, was crushing.”

“But you just explained how I didn’t really have a choice. And please don’t forget the numerous hateful things you said to me, Jack.”

“You didn’t deserve any of it. I admit that. The pain from my father just seeped out. You got hit by shrapnel.”

“I don’t believe that. I think that some of what you said to me, you believe to be true.”

“You have to admit, Cam, you and my Dad have an unusually tight relationship. Everybody in the family knows that. Something about you is deeply… attractive… to him. I don’t blame him, either. I feel the same way about you.”

His exact words reverberated in her head. “Do you want me or pity me or something else?”

“Touche. Yes, that was unnecessarily mean. Point taken.”

“I’m not trying to make a point, Jack. I’m trying to figure out what the hell happened. And what’s going to happen.”

“Are you here to dump me?”

“No.”

He dropped his head into his hands with an audible sigh of relief. “Cam, I need you to believe that I would never, will never, betray you, physically or otherwise. Can you do that?”

So many disturbing images flashed in her head. So many possibilities. “I’ll try my best.”

“That’s not very reassuring.”

“It’s the best I can do. For now.”

His sadness nearly moved her to embrace him. But they still not had addressed the other major issue. “What are you going to do about your father? And no, I’m not colluding with him. I’m on your side. I always have been.”

“We’re going over there on Saturday.”

“We?” No way was she going to be part of this.

“Yes, we. He specifically requested you be there. And I need you.”

“I’m not going, Jackson. As you have been very open about, my presence is not helpful.”

“Cam. Please. I’m asking you to come with me. Not because of him, but because it’s going to be hell, and you’re the only person in the world who can get me to screw my head back on when I’ve lost it. I realize what I’m asking you is the most selfish, needy, inconsiderate thing I could ever do, and I’m asking anyway.” He took her hands. “Please, Camille.”

Her gaze moved from their hands, to his face, and back again. She did not consider herself a weak person, but saying no to a heartfelt request from Jackson was well out of her abilities.