Casanova(8)

“Oh, don’t worry.” Camille stepped past me, flashing me a smile. “I didn’t expect you to call immediately. In fact,” she said, stopping by a shelf of pink baby clothes, “I remember you being awful at ever calling anyone.”

Yeah...

I joined her at the shelf and honed in on a soft, pink onesie. Fingering the arm, I said, “I had to grow out of that lovely habit. Calling people is kind of part of my job, even if I do hate it.”

“ Ah, the journalist thing? Oh, hey, this is cute.” She held up a onesie with a pig face on the front.

“You’re right. Thanks.” I took it from her and checked the size. It was correct according to my Google search—hey, never done this before—so I laid the onesie over my arm and grabbed the soft one I’d just found myself. “Anyway, like I said, if I didn’t call people, I wouldn’t make much money, so...” I shrugged.

“Oh.” She stopped, gripping the shelf, her eyes widening. “That sounds like so much fun. Have you traveled a lot?”

I blushed and looked down. “Depends what you mean by travel. I have to go where there’s work, so while California is home right now, it hasn’t always been. I was in New York for a little after I graduated college. I’ve been to Denver and Seattle. I’ve covered Mardi Gras in New Orleans and all sorts of really cool stuff, but the furthest I’ve ever been is Montreal.”

“Whoa. Lucky you. Next time, can I come with you?”

I laughed. Like she’d never been anywhere exotic. “Hey, how did you know I was here?” I asked as she followed me to the register.

“Oh, um. Brett’s in the bank next door. I was outside and saw you so thought I’d join you.” Camille shuffled side to side.

A sick feeling tugged deep inside my tummy, but I batted it down as I handed my card to the girl behind the counter. “Why are you fidgeting?”

“Because...you know.”

I smirked. “I’m an adult, Camille. I don’t care if he’s there.”

There may as well have been an arrow pointing to my head screaming liar in neon lights. I was lying through the skin of my teeth and she knew it.

“Right, okay. He’s going home. Want to get lunch today? Then you don’t have to call.” She grinned.

“Sure.” I took my card back from the register girl, put it away, and took my bag full of baby things from the counter. “You wanna go now?”

“Yep, let’s go. I just have to run into the bank and tell him not to wait for me.” She held the door open for me.

I slipped through it with a smile.

“Damn it, Cam. Would it kill you to answer your phone if you’re gonna disappear on me like that?”

I sucked in a sharp breath and stopped dead in my tracks. Camille slammed right into my back with an “oomph,” but I didn’t really care. All the oxygen felt as though it’d been sucked away from the immediate area as my gaze found his feet of its own free will.

I took in white, sneaker-clad feet and quickly found well-fitting, dark, jeans that hugged obviously strong thighs. A black belt sat through the loops, partially covered by a white tee. As my gaze traveled further upward, I found myself looking at a tattooed arm, mostly covered by the rolled-up sleeve of a light, denim shirt.

Damn. Nobody should pull off double denim like this.

I swallowed as I looked higher and noted a tattoo creeping up the side of his neck, almost literally pointing at a sharp, square jaw covered in thick stubble.

I didn’t see anything else, because my eyes were drawn to his.

That same, old, blue-gray gaze I knew so well.

Brett.

Shit.

My heart hammered against my chest. God, eight years, and he looked even better than he had the last time I laid eyes on him...being an asshole.

“Lani.” Brett swallowed. “How are you?”

Oh god, I have to talk to him.

“I’m fine, thank you. Yourself?” Oh god, could I have been any more formal? Yes, yes I could have. I could’ve said “One is fine” like I’m the fucking queen of England.

“I’m good.” His lips slowly curved up to one side into a smile that was half-genuine, half-cocky smirk. At least that was how it looked to me.

I waited for him to speak again, but he didn’t. And neither did I.

Who was I kidding? I couldn’t. My heart had firmly lodged itself into my throat.

“Soooo...” Camille said, half-stepping in front of me. “We’re headed for lunch. Did you need me for anything?”

Brett shook his head. “No,” he said slowly, his eyes fixed on me. “You’re good, Cam. Call me if you need a ride home, all right?”

“Sure.” She grabbed my arm. “See you later.”

“Yeah. See ya, Lani.”

My name rolled off his tongue too easily for my liking. “Bye, Brett.”

Camille’s grip on my arm tightened, and she’d barely rattled off a, “Yeah, see ya, asshole,” before she steered me down the sidewalk and around the corner, out of his sight. Then she released me.

I fell back against the wall and covered my face with my hands. I blew out a long breath that bounced back off my palms and back against my cheeks. My heart was still going crazy and my stomach was in knots.

I wasn’t prepared to look him in the eye—the guy who was once my best friend and the person I...the person I was damn sure I loved more than anybody else.