Chapter Twenty-Six
“Don’t be nervous. Act like the camera isn’t there. See,” he pointed to some button, “the mute button is on, so nothing we say is being recorded.”
I couldn’t believe I agreed to this. How was I going to act natural with the camera pointed at me? Porter had played on my sympathies. In hushed tones, we had discussed how if things didn’t turn around for the Clairborne in the next two quarters, Mr. Clairborne would have to start laying people off. Mr. Clairborne himself had already quit drawing a salary, instead living off their savings and other investments. How could I say no after that?
Once Porter had his camera situated on the tripod, he took his seat right next to me. We were now cozy next to each other so the camera could get a full view of us. Not only that, now we were the center of attention. I guess it’s not every day you see a couple filming their dinner. This was going way beyond selfies, which I wasn’t a fan of either.
Porter looked as happy as could be when he sat down. I, on the other hand, leaned on my hand trying to block my face.
Porter laughed and removed my hand. “That defeats the purpose.”
“I don’t even like my picture being taken.”
“I noticed a serious lack of pictures on your Facebook page. It was disappointing, especially considering you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve seen the women you’ve met.”
“Then you know how superior you are to them.” He flashed me his charming smile.
“I’m still not buying it.” I tried to shield my face again.
This time he took both my hands and kept them in his capable ones. “Focus on me. I promise this is going to turn out great.”
My squinted eyes said I don’t think so.
“Trust me,” he whispered.
“I want to. I used to.” In that moment, I realized how true that was. I wanted nothing more than to be able to trust him and myself. To know this was all real.
He leaned his forehead against mine. “I know. I want you to more than anything. You don’t know how sorry I am to have lost that. I’m going to do everything in my power to earn it and keep it.”
In a surprise move, my lips acted of their own accord and landed on his for a brief, albeit stirring kiss. I’d forgotten how much I’d missed physical intimacy, especially with him. Our proximity was tempting, but I did pull away before he could part my lips.
A growl escaped him from deep in his chest. “Holland Reeves, you are going to be the death of me.”
I smiled knowing I could elicit such a response from him. “I think you’ll survive.”
“Just in case, we better eat and talk so we can finish that kiss later.”
After coming out of my Porter stupor I realized that had all been recorded. “You’re not going to show us kissing, are you?”
“It would be cruel to deny the world such a pleasure.”
I cringed. “I told you I wasn’t falling for your lines.”
“Darlin’, that’s about as close to the truth as it gets.”
I playfully pushed him away. “Let’s eat.” Though I felt self-conscious about eating in front of a camera.
Our food had been delivered while Porter was setting up his equipment. The tantalizing smells of my chicken orzo pomodorina and his Moroccan red harissa chicken wafted in the sea air, tempting me almost as much as the man next to me.
Porter held up his wine glass filled halfway with what I’m sure was an expensive red wine. His eyes danced in the candlelight. “To us.”
I picked up my matching glass and clinked it against his. “To us.”
We each took a sip of the sweet liquid before returning the glasses to the table. I was surprised how much I liked it. I rarely drank, and if I did, it was inexpensive.
I glanced at the camera before picking up my fork.
Porter gently turned my head toward him with his finger. “That camera has nothing to do with what’s going on right now, but I promise when it’s all said and done this will be something you will want to watch over and over again.”
My eyebrows raised. “That’s a hefty promise.”
“I won’t let you down. Now take a bite of this chicken.” He cut a small piece for me and dipped it in the harissa sauce before presenting it to me on his fork. “It’s spicy, but not burn-your-mouth hot.”
“I like spicy food.”
“I remember that now.” He placed the bite in my mouth.
The chilies and garlic hit my taste buds first. He was right; it was a little spicy, but the flavor was wonderful. “Mmm.”
“Good, right?”
I nodded and kept chewing.
He took his own bite. We ate for a few moments in comfortable silence. My dish was as good as his, though not as spicy. I concentrated on my chewing to make sure it looked as ladylike as possible, or at least not like a cow chewing its cud.
“You’re going to let me approve anything you put online, right?”
“Of course.”
“And please don’t post anything about us until after I get back to the lab. I would hate if any of my colleagues came across it. I don’t want anyone to think Sharon or I were lying about my whereabouts.”
“Relax.” He squeezed my thigh under the table. “It’s going to take a while to edit and produce the different spots and ads I have in mind. Besides, I have several days’ worth of dates planned.”
“Are you going to film them all?”
“Only the good stuff,” he teased. “Speaking of which.” He pulled out his phone and clicked on a few things. “Let’s get to know each other. I’ve compiled this list of fifty questions to ask your boyfriend or girlfriend.”
“But we’re not either.”
“I was predicting your future again.”
“Uh-huh. Let me see that list.”
He held out his phone away from me. “I don’t think so.”
“I don’t have to answer, you know.”
He gave me an evil grin. “But I know how much you like to get an A on every test.”
“This is a test?”
“The most important one of our lives.” He sounded like he was telling the truth.
“Okay. What’s the first question?”
A roguish glint appeared in his eyes as he perused his phone. “Here’s a good one. What was your first impression of me?”
My eyes fluttered up and met his. My mind wandered back to that day on the beach. “I thought you were trouble. And a little arrogant.”
He chuckled. “All true.”
“And I couldn’t believe someone like you was paying attention to someone like me.”
He cocked his head. “Someone like you?”
“A poor, plain girl with the wrong pedigree.”
He ran a finger down the length of my cheek. “Let me tell you my first impression. I saw a beautiful girl with innocent eyes who saw me for more than my last name. After only knowing you for a few minutes, I knew there was something special about you, and I was ready to endure my parents’ wrath for pursuing one of their employees. Please don’t ever do yourself the injustice of thinking you are anything but amazing. Any man would be lucky to call you his.”
I looked up to the hazy evening sky. “I don’t know about that. I think most men find me . . . quirky.”
“Any man that doesn’t like a little trivia every time he tries to make a move on you isn’t worth it.”
Though he made me blush, he had a way of making me smile and making me think my quirks were anything but quirky. “Next question.”
He scrolled down his phone. “I would say so far we both have an A. You might have an A-.”
“A-?” I was offended by the notion.
“I’m docking you for having thought so little of yourself back then. I hope you don’t feel that way now.”
“I think part of that girl will always live inside of me, but I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing. She’s a reminder that I’m a fighter and I can do hard things.”
Porter paused for a moment as if he was at a loss for words. “Holland, I stand by my previous statement. You are amazing.”
“I’m not—”
He placed his finger on my lips. “There you go with those words again. Please take my word for it.”
Tears filled my eyes. He had a way of getting to me, or was that, he got me?
He didn’t draw attention to the tears, which was exactly the right thing to do. “Question two. Where do you see yourself in five years?”
I sat back and thought for a moment. “In two years, I should have my doctorate. Then I’ll have a choice to make. Head for the corporate world and money or apply for a postdoctoral position at another university for double what I make now but a lot less than what I could make.”
“You can’t stay at Winchester?”
“I possibly could. That is, if Sharon allows me to stay in the program.”
“You know she will. She’s just worried about you.”
“Yeah well, until yesterday morning, I thought I was her prized pupil.”
“You are. That’s why she’s doing this.”
I wasn’t sure I could believe that but appreciated him saying so. “Regardless, it’s better for your career to do postdoctoral work at a different institution than where you received your doctorate. It’s all about what looks good on paper.”
He looked closely into my eyes. “But what do you really want to do?”
That was an easy answer. “I want to help people live longer, healthier lives, and,” I gave him a quick smile, “I want a better apartment and maybe a new car.”
“I want you to live in a better part of town too. So which option gets you that?”
“Probably either one depending on the cost of living of where I end up. If I go the corporate route, I’m looking at six figures.”
“But you don’t care about the money, do you?”
“Not really. I’ve never had any, and I care more about the research. There are a lot of people in academia that believe you’re selling out if you go into the private sector. But some of those corporations come with big money and a lot of resources that could help further my work. I would never say that to any of my colleagues, though.”
Porter didn’t get to respond. Our server came by to refill our water glasses and to see if we needed anything. I also noticed they weren’t seating any more guests on the patio. I appreciated that, considering I had a camera pointing at me.
As soon as our server left, Porter was back to the questions. “You’ve only talked about your professional plans. What about personal ambitions? Do you want to get married? What about children?”
I picked up my wine glass and took a sip. “Isn’t it your turn to answer the question?”
“We’re getting there. Why don’t you want to answer me?”
I set my glass down slowly and deliberately, staring off into the distance. There was this part of me aching to tell him the truth because it had always been so easy to do so, but I was afraid of the truth. Of my feelings for him that had been brought to the surface.
Porter took my hand and caressed it. “If we are going to learn to trust each other again, we have to be completely honest.”
He was right, but opening myself up to him again meant I was opening the door to be hurt. I took in several breaths of the gulf air. I fixated on the flickering candlelight.
“Once upon a time I saw myself having those things, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve wondered if it’s a wise course of action.”
Porter squeezed my hand, drawing my gaze back to him. “Because of your poor excuse for a family?”
“And you,” I quietly admitted.
The pained look on his face said I wounded him. That was not my intent.
“Holland.” My name sounded as if it had been caught in his throat. “I never wanted to hurt you. And honestly, until that night, I wasn’t sure if my leaving would really affect you.”
I sat stunned for a moment. “How could you think that?”
“I’m not trying to excuse my actions, but each time I said I love you, you never said it back. I kept hoping eventually you would feel the same way.”
Tears leaked uncontrollably out of my eyes, hearing the hurt in his voice.
He mistook the cause of my tears. “I’m not blaming you. I know where the fault lies.”
“That night,” I choked, “I asked you to meet me at the hammock because I wanted to tell you that . . .” Even now I was having a hard time getting the words out. Admitting to Natalie how I’d felt was one thing, but actually saying them to Porter was as difficult as it was back then.
Porter’s grip on my hand tightened as if he knew what I was going to say.
Why couldn’t I say it? It wasn’t even true now. Or was it, and that was the problem? I closed my eyes as if that would help.
“I was going to tell you.” My levator palpebrae superioris muscles retracted causing my eyelids to open. “I wanted to tell you that night.” I was having a hard time catching my breath. “Porter, I was going to tell you that I loved you.” It came out in a rush. I hardly believed I said it.
By the look on Porter’s face, you would’ve thought that I’d punched him in the ventriculus instead of confessing long-ago feelings.
It was enough to conclude our evening of dinner and questions. Apparently, it was more information than he bargained for. He sat there staring for the longest time, not uttering a word.