Before You (Before You #1)(9)
“I need to take a shower. I look awful. I can’t believe I met your friends looking like that,” Bre said, shaking her head.
“After…” he whispered as he wrapped her legs around his waist and carried her to the bed.
Satisfied and utterly contented, Bre stepped out the steamy shower, smiling at the prospect of spending an entire month with Cam. She threw on a nightshirt, brushed her hair, and climbed into bed with Cam, who was already asleep. She curled into his body, wrapping her arms around him like when they were kids and she used to sneak into his room when her mother didn’t bother to come home. And just like when they were kids, Cam rolled over, pulling her close to him and tangling his fingers in her hair. Smiling at the familiarity of it all, she loved how even in his sleep he always managed to make her feel safe and wanted—both of the things she had too little of when she was growing up.
He was the one constant in her life. Everyone else came and went, but not Cam, and not his family. He shielded her from her mother’s whims and gave her an escape from her grandmother’s guilt-laden lectures. The thought of not having him or his family in her life scared her more than she wanted to admit. He knew all her quirks and she didn’t have to make any excuses for them or her family’s eccentricities or her insecurities.
Chapter Four
Bre pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head so she could read the chalkboard menu behind the cash register. Unconsciously, she rubbed her temples and inhaled the smell of coffee beans in a pointless attempt to lessen the tension that had been silently building between her and Cam during the last seven days. A fourth of her trip to LA had elapsed, and she and Cam had hardly spent any time together. Their usual carefree relationship had degenerated into something she didn’t recognize, and every time they were on the verge of normalcy again, Cam would disappear for hours on a simple errand or come home late from work without bothering to call.
Last night she couldn’t bite her tongue any longer. Sure, she had questioned his whereabouts before last night, but last night her simmering discontent exploded into something uglier than she thought was possible.
The night started well intentioned enough. When he left for work, she made him promise to be home no later than seven o’clock, hinting that she had planned a surprise. He had kissed her and swung her around in a circle, promising over and over that he wouldn’t disappoint.
Then, like a doting girlfriend, she spent four hours preparing a five-course meal, complete with a coordinating wine for every dish. At 6:55, she sent Cam at quick reminder text and plated the grilled pork belly lettuce wrap and poured the Prosecco. At 7:20, she sent Cam other text that went unanswered. At 7:45, she called him four times and all four calls went directly to voicemail. At 8:30, she had finished the entire bottle of Prosecco and moved on to the French Chablis that was supposed to accompany her lobster bisque.
When Cam finally walked into the house at ten o’clock, she had finished the French Chablis, and she was drunker and angrier than she remembered being in recent history. It didn’t help that she had skipped lunch because she was too busy preparing the meal for Cam.
When he asked her why she was sitting in the dark, it took every ounce of control not to throw the cold pork belly in his face. She couldn’t remember every word that passed through her mouth, but she distinctly remembered asking him if he was too dumb to use his phone or if he was naturally an inconsiderate bastard.
Of course, Cam tried to lay the blame at her feet, saying if she had told him her plans, he wouldn’t have been late. From there, the fight morphed into something she wanted to forget. Finally, when she threatened to leave, he told her to get out and pack her shit. She stormed into his bedroom with a bottle of Bordeaux and frantically tossed her things in her suitcase. She must have passed out halfway through because she woke up around ten this morning, dressed in the same clothes from last night, with an insane headache and a thick cottonmouth.
Taped to the bathroom door was a note from Cam.
B.
Sorry for everything. Don’t leave. I love you!
C.
P.S. I’ll be home early tonight.
“Excuse me, do you know what you want to order?”
Snapped out of her private thoughts, Bre realized she was now at the front of the line, with a barista staring at her as if she were a crazy mute. “Double cappuccino and a lemon poppy seed muffin, please.”
Grabbing her drink from the counter, she walked toward a lounge area with a sleek yellow sofa and several round metal tables with white chairs. Taking a seat in the corner of the room, she opened her notepad to sketch. Drawing always worked to divert her thoughts, and right now she really didn’t want to think about last night. So she sketched people absorbed in their day.
Her hand froze when she noticed a couple leaning against a silver car right outside the coffee shop. The man’s back faced Bre, but she could see the woman clearly, and she looked vaguely familiar. The man shook his head and then he turned to the side and Bre nearly gasped, leaning forward for a better look. It was Jax, and now she understood why the woman looked familiar, too. It was Katie, or closet girl, as Bre had nicknamed her. From Katie’s body language, she could tell they were fighting about something. After waving her hands in front of her for a couple minutes, Katie walked away, and Jax turned toward the coffee shop window with his hands stuffed in his pockets.