Текст книги "Seeing You "

Автор книги: Michelle Lynn

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Todd

I knock on Noodle’s door, questioning every movement. We’ll see each other tonight, but I couldn’t wait.

Two minutes ago, I was lying on my couch, watching the highlights from last night’s game. Now, I’m here, knocking on Noodle’s door.

She opens it, and I look her over. I reach her eyes, and I notice her sink herself back. My admiration made her uncomfortable.

“Hey, Noodle. Want to go find a hidden gem?”

Her eyes light up. “I’d love to. Come in.”

She leaves me at the door and disappears down the hall, and I follow her. All the times I’ve been to her apartment, I’ve never seen her bedroom.

“I just have to shut down my computer!” she screams.

I push back the chuckle from her not knowing that I’m behind her.

“Okay.”

She startles and places her hand over her heart. “Oh. I didn’t know you followed me.” Her face reddens, and she does a quick scan of the room, probably looking for dirty clothes or something.

She should know by now that I don’t judge.

“I’ve never seen your room.” I peruse around, noticing her gray walls with white comforter. She’s a minimalist. I never would have guessed. The only difference between her and me is her framed artwork on the walls—some with vibrant colors, others black and white. I stand in front of one, trying to figure out its meaning. I’ve never been good at the whole art-speaks-to-me thing.

“I know they don’t match. I buy them because each one says something to me. One is for when I’m sad, and another is for when I’m hopeful. Stupid, I know.”

She busies herself with her computer, and I abandon the canvas I know nothing about.

“Never stupid.” I sit on her bed, waiting for her.

She looks up and graces me with one of her soft smiles.

“You’re sweet.”

“No, I’m not really.”

She shuts the top of her laptop and tosses it on the bed.

“Let’s go.” She grabs her purse and leaves me in her room. “Do you have a place in mind, or are we on a search?”

“I have a place I’ve been dying to try. A friend from culinary school owns it.”

I rush to open the door, and the look of surprise on her face brings a smile to mine.

“Thank you.” Her pink flush spreads further, growing as wide as the warmth in my stomach.

Twenty minutes later, Noodle and I are standing in my buddy’s place. It’s nothing fancy, and it is treated more like an assembly line than a sit-down restaurant.

I see him behind the glass barrier between him and the guests.

He spots me. “That isn’t the Todd Hamilton?”

Noodle hits me in the stomach, like I didn’t hear him yell across the crowded restaurant.

“It is me, the world-renowned chef. Is that Spencer Kim, the brilliant chef with fusion mastery?”

I walk to the side, and he asks someone to take his place behind the counter.

He shakes my hand. “What’s up, man? I haven’t seen you since opening day.”

“Nothing much. I brought my friend for some lunch.”

I reach for Noodle, and she tears herself away from watching all the people move through the line.

“Noodle, this is Spencer Kim. Spence, this is Noodle.”

“Noodle?” he questions.

I laugh.

“It’s Amelia.” She shakes his hand.

“Bonehead gave you a nickname?” Spencer questions.

I push him on the shoulder. “Her name is Amelia Fiore. Tell me you get it.”

“I get it.” Spencer nods but doesn’t share my amusement in the nickname. “You probably got that a lot.”

“Todd was the first.” She rolls her eyes, and they laugh.

When did this turn around to me?

“Okay, introductions made. Show us some of your awesome food,” I interrupt their jokes.

“Meet me at the side door, and I’ll make you guys something special.”

I grab ahold of Noodle’s hand, but it lays limp in mine, so I drop it.

Spencer lets us in the door and leads us to the kitchen area.

He and Noodle begin discussing Italian food, and I’m fairly sure Spencer is trying to figure out how to incorporate Italian and Korean now.

I look at the shelf lined with spices, sauces, and oils I rarely use. It goes to show how different every chef is.

“Try this meat.” Spencer has a fork poised in front of Noodle’s face.

I watch her lips slowly move over the fork and slide the meat into her mouth.

She quickly covers her mouth while chewing, and her face lights up. “So good,” she says.

Spencer hands her the fork, and she snags another piece of meat. “Todd, you’ve got to try this.”

She inserts the morsel into my mouth, and I glide it off the fork. She waits to get my thoughts, and there’s something oddly intimate to this. The whole scenario makes me wish I could drag her back to my apartment and cook for her. It should be my food on the fork for her to love.

At the same time, I can’t deny his skills.

“It’s all right.”

“Fuck off. You can’t make it any better.”

“Are you challenging me?”

Spencer stares me down. I meet his eyes until the two of us begin to laugh.

“Those days are over,” I say.

When we were in culinary school, all the students would have cook-offs, like the shows on television now. Spencer and I usually ended up in the last round. That should mean something, right? He has his restaurant already, and I should have my own sometime soon.

“Is this your wife?” Noodle points to a picture on the wall of Spencer’s wife, Victoria.

“You’re having a baby? Why didn’t I know this?” I stare in disbelief at Victoria’s hands cradling her round stomach.

“You never return my phone calls.”

Spencer continues to whisk, and I hear the oil sizzling in the pan.

“I’m sorry. Life gets in the way.”

Noodle looks up at me, and the conversation from a few days ago haunts me. I need to get out more.

“You get in your life’s way,” Spencer spouts his unneeded advice.

But I can’t fault the guy. I was a groomsman at his wedding, and now, he’s about to embark on something so huge. And where am I? At the damn gym.

Noodle pats my arm, and it washes away a small amount of guilt.

“I’m not going to argue that point.” I steal a piece of meat from the pan and pop it into my mouth.

“Just can’t stay away. I’m that good.” Spencer bows.

While Spencer cooks, I look around, envious of what he has.

“It’s a great place, man.” I clap his back and hop up onto the counter.

“Thanks.”

Noodle squeezes between him and the counter, and I grab her out of harm’s way of Spencer’s hot pan. She falls in between my legs, and I grip her shoulders with my hands to keep her there.

We watch Spencer prepare a special dish for us as he and I talk about the whereabouts of people from our culinary class.

Noodle sinks into my hands a little more. The position is comfortable and unusual at the same time. It feels nice to have her here with me. My thoughts wander, wondering about what she’s thinking. Does she like my hands on her? Does she like being nestled between my legs, as though we’re a couple?

Spencer boxes up a few fusion egg rolls with the meat we both enjoyed. I wish she didn’t have to move, but in order for me to get down, Noodle has to step forward.

My hands fall to the counter, and I grab the bag from Spencer’s hands. “We owe you.”

“Maybe I’ll bring Victoria to CHOPs one night. Can you get me in?”

“I’ll pull strings. If you do, stop at the bar to see Noodle.”

She cocks her head.

“I mean Lia,” I correct.

“Spencer,” a worker from the front calls his name.

“We’ll let you get back. I don’t want to be responsible for you losing your business.” I laugh and give him a one-arm guy hug.

“It was nice to meet you.” Noodle holds out her hand.

Spencer opens up his arms. “The pleasure was mine. Todd never brings girls around me.”

“He must be afraid you’d steal them from him.”

“I like you.” He winks. “You are welcome anytime you want.” He looks over to me. “She’s a keeper.”

“Oh. I’m just his—”

Spencer waves and runs to the front counter.

“Neighbor,” she mumbles and turns to me. “He’s nice.”

“Is that all I am? Your neighbor?” The question leaves my mouth before I can filter it through.

“Nope. You’re my friend.” She shrugs and shoots me a wide smile, showing her perfect teeth.

“That I am. Let’s go eat this food before it gets cold.”

We meander over to Fort Greene Park and sit down on a grassy hill. Her strawberry scent wafts around with the breeze. That scent will always remind me of her now. Smells have always had the capacity to transport me to a different time in my life. The smell of spring rain reminds me of standing outside the fire station, watching my mom drive away. The smell of cigars remind me of my first foster family where I hid in the corner from Hank. The smell of chocolate cookies reminds me of the first time Carol asked me to bake with her. Now, the smell of strawberries will be sectioned off for Noodle and leave me with a smile every time.

I open the box then watch her reaction as she takes a bite of Spencer’s egg roll.

“Oh, my God, this is seriously amazing.” She places it back down and picks up a napkin to wipe her hands and mouth.

“I know. He made this in one of our competitions back at school.”

“Did he win?” She bites her lip, and the act draws my eyes to how full her lips are.

She catches me, so she releases it. I twist forward and stare out at a mother chasing her kid down the sidewalk.

“Yeah.”

Her hand on my shoulder pulls me to her again. “I bet you beat him plenty of times. You’re a talented chef, Todd.”

We share a smile, and her kindness warms me to her again. She’s so giving and encouraging.

“Well, what can I say?” I toss out a reply just to keep this conversation going somewhere, other than where it shouldn’t. Regardless of these newfound things coming to light about Noodle, I can’t corrupt her.

“Your ego is seriously inflated.” She gulps down another bite.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I don’t really want to answer it. It goes off immediately again, so I pull it out to see who it is. Carol’s name blinks at me, and I hesitate a moment before knowing I have no choice.

“Give me a sec,” I tell Noodle.

She nods with a mouthful of food.

“Hey, Carol.” I take a few steps down the hill to space myself.

“Hey, sweetie. Listen, I got a call today. Jim is in the hospital. He passed out at work.”

I thread my fingers through my hair and rub the back of my neck. “Which one?”

I don’t need the specifics. Anyone can figure out what happened. Now, I just need to fix it.

“He’s at Memorial. Have you been going over to the house?”

I’m thrown by her question. What does she care?

“I went over there the other night. Made him dinner. He’s drinking again.” I distance myself a little more from Noodle.

“I know. That’s why I left him. He started sneaking it at the first of the year, and it’s gotten worse.”

The reason for her leaving starts to align.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with it, but could you please go over and see what needs to be done?”

If I were less of a person, I’d tell Carol to screw off, that I’m not about to help a man who never helped me, who has minimized my career path up until the other night. But then I remember Jim’s sad face when I was over at the house that night and how defeated and exhausted he seemed.

“Yeah.”

“You’re great. You know that? Thank you so much.”

Questions want to spill out of my mouth. Carol’s never poked her nose into my life, though, so I won’t do that to hers.

“You’re welcome.”

We hang up, and I watch Noodle staring out into the park. She smiles at a dad swinging his kid in a circle. Her face rests on her hands that are interlocked across her propped-up knees. She has no idea how gorgeous she is. A few seconds pass before she catches me and straightens out her position. Her legs cross, and she waits for me to return.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Not really. Do you mind if we cut this short?” I don’t sit back down. Here I had her for the whole day, and my life had to intervene.

“No.” She stands up and brushes off her ass.

Jesus, those jeans hug it right.

“Can I ask what’s the matter?” she says.

“Just my foster dad,” I slip. I’m usually a vault with my personal information.

“I didn’t know you were adopted.” She tosses the box into the garbage on the way out of the park.

“I wasn’t. I was in foster care until I turned eighteen.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t have a horrid story of the people who took care of me. Some were nice, and some weren’t. It’s over now.” I tuck my hands into my pockets.

“Do you want me to go with you, wherever it is you need to go?” She loops her arm through mine and nuzzles closer.

“Um . . .”

“I get it if you don’t. I don’t want to impose. You just looked so sad on the phone.”

She was watching me on the phone?

“He’s an alcoholic, and he’s in the hospital.” I don’t look down at her. Her sad eyes will kill me.

“Lucky for you . . . I have no experience with that.” She knocks her hip with mine.

I get what she’s doing. She’s lightening the mood.

“But I’d love to help you out anyway,” she says.

In the months that have passed, how did I not notice how caring and considerate she is?

We stop at the light, and I glance down to her. “I’d love it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

People file around us, and I notice the walk sign is flickering. I grab her hand and guide us to Memorial Hospital.

“Was it rough?”

Her question triggers memories of screaming, being locked in my room. That happened until I went to Carol and Jim’s. It wasn’t Disney World, but it wasn’t what I imagined Hell to be like, either.

“The early years weren’t easy. My mom left me on the step of a fire station when I was six. I bounced around from home to home until Carol and Jim took me in when I was twelve.” I haven’t told anyone my story for years.

“How were Carol and Jim?”

She appears content, walking down the street, allowing me to lead her wherever. Her trust amazes me.

“They’re okay. Carol was sweet. At first, I was so mean to her, but she kept trying, and eventually, I came around. She’s where my love of cooking came from. We started bonding because she’d ask me to help her in the kitchen.”

Those memories bring a smile to my lips—the hours after school when we would make dinner and the long days of baking around Christmas time. If it weren’t for her, I wonder if I’d even love food like I do now.

“There are a lot of cooks who aren’t so welcoming to others in their kitchens.”

“Especially with someone who just called her a bitch the day before. I’m ashamed at how horrible I was to her.” I swallow the lump lodged in my throat as the mean things I said to Carol those first few months ring in my head. No wonder Jim hates me.

“And Jim?”

“We butted heads. He felt I was blessed for what they did. I was their first and last foster child. I constantly made sure he knew I wasn’t his kid. One day, he told me he didn’t want me anyway. He couldn’t handle how mean I was . . . especially to Carol. Now that I’m older, I get it.”

“You were just a kid.” She squeezes my arm tighter.

Noodle’s right. I was just a kid, but it’s no excuse.

“I was just so angry. I couldn’t control it.”

“It sounds like Carol could.” She bumps my arm with her shoulder.

She’s right. Carol controlled my anger with our cooking together after school. She figured out how to bond with me, and I was blind to it until this moment.

“She did.” The corners of my lips curl as I remember those days.

We enter the emergency room at Memorial and step to the side to make room for the paramedics rushing in with a gurney. Noodle grips my hand and fists my jacket, and I pull her a little closer.

“I hope that person is okay,” she murmurs.

That one comment spurs a rush of emotions through me. She cares about someone she doesn’t even know.

We stop at the receptionist to find out where Jim is.

“Are you family?” The young nurse’s ponytail swings from side to side as she shuffles from paperwork to the computer.

“I’m his son.”

She looks up and nods. “Go ahead through the doors, and he’s in room five on the right.” She bends down to click a button.

“Thank you,” Noodle beats me to conveying my appreciation.

I stop us when the doors open. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“If you prefer for me to stay here, I will.”

The debate clicks back and forth in my head. I stare out at the weary people in the waiting room. There’s not a chance I’m leaving her here.

“Come.” I pull her through the doors.

This time, she locks our fingers together. She pushes me to be stronger in this situation.

Jim’s sleeping when we walk into his room. His clothes are stuffed into a bag on the table. We don’t have time to sit down before a nurse strolls in.

“You’re his son?” the middle-aged woman asks.

I nod.

“No, he’s not,” Jim mumbles.

The nurse disregards him and checks his vitals and the IV bag.

“I’m his foster son. I believe you called Carol. She asked me to come.”

“She’s a whore,” Jim slurs.

My head falls back. “Can we tone down the crazy for a minute?”

Jim flips me off.

Noodle’s eyebrows arch. I forgot to mention he can get angry when he drinks to her.

“They are having some marital disagreements right now,” I inform the nurse.

She nods. Pretty sure she can figure out the reason.

“Well, I’m Nurse Helen. Mr. Lancaster is being admitted. His blood alcohol is way above normal. We need to observe him.” She unhooks his bag of fluids and lays it between his legs.

An orderly comes in and starts unlocking the bed.

“Can I ask exactly what happened?” I stand in front of Jim’s bed, so he can’t be moved. I get that they’re in a rush, but I need some information, and he sure as shit can’t tell me.

“The paramedics told us he passed out and hit his head. A CT scan has been performed, and everything looks normal. He just has too much alcohol in his system, and we are admitting him to detox him. We will be sending a counselor up to the room to discuss rehabilitation.” Nurse Helen signals to someone out in the hall.

Another orderly comes in the room, and the two of them maneuver his bed to wheel him out of the room.

“What room will he be in?”

“He’s going up to the fourth floor. Give them about ten minutes to get him situated and for the nurses to get up-to-date on his case.”

Before I can take a breath, Noodle and I are alone in an empty room.

“Let’s go.” Noodle breezes past me.

My feet step to catch up to her. Her eyes ping right and left outside of the room, trying to locate something.

“No. You don’t need to stay here this long.”

She spins on her heels. “It’s not your choice.”

This day might not have turned out like I wanted, but damn, I like that she’s staying.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Amelia

The following Sunday, my body fights me the entire time I crawl out of bed. Sundays are for sleeping in, not for work. It’s usually my only day I have off from both jobs, and I try to focus on my photography on those days. I call them Lazy Sundays. I usually go out to the streets of New York and take a few pictures by the water, sit at a café, or I sometimes hop on the first train and see where it takes me.

Now, I’m on my way to CHOPs—for a bridal shower, no less. I pray her color isn’t Pepto-Bismol pink, because I might cough up my iced coffee.

I open the front door, and as I guessed, bouquets of pink roses fill vases on each table. Little cookies line trays down the center of the table with the inscription Bride and Groom and a heart and an arrow through it. The over-fluff of love has seeped into every crevice of the restaurant. That makes me assume the groom’s probably screwing the bride’s best friend. I blame Cam for my sour outlook on love. I haven’t been able to shake him since last week.

I roll my eyes and walk to the back room. The wait staff is changing into their assigned uniforms, and I notice Todd’s not strutting around, displaying his naked chest for everyone to gawk at.

“Hey, Todd’s single, right?” Lucy whispers, leaning in close to me.

I peer back to him and find he’s placing on his hat. “Yeah.” I dig into my locker for my apron.

“I asked him if he wanted to go out for a bite to eat later.” She pauses. “He said no. I guess I thought there was some interest. He flirts with me, and I catch him looking at me.”

My head flies to hers, and I scrunch my eyebrows while pulling out my apron and tying it around my waist.

“Hmm . . .” Todd isn’t one to turn down a date, so although I’m confused, like Lucy, I try to act differently. “Maybe he’s just tired.”

She stands next to me, obviously expecting more.

“Did you want me to talk to him?” The minute I ask the question, I know this is a bad idea. I do not want to get into the middle of anything like some junior high drama.

Her eyes light up. “Would you?”

I focus on her hand that’s squeezing my forearm. Very bad idea.

“Thank you!” she exclaims, squeezing my arm again. She twists around and leaves the break room.

I release a huff and shut my locker. Todd’s on his way out with his head hanging low, and I know this is my only chance to have him alone tonight.

Increasing my pace, I come up right behind him. “Is everything okay?”

He stares at me for a few beats of a minute, almost as if he desperately wants to tell me something. “Yeah, I’m just really hungover.”

I like to think I know when Todd is lying, and I’m pretty sure he’s doing exactly that right to my face.

“Is it Jim?”

I know Todd had a lot of stuff to finish up with the counselors before we left the hospital that night. Jim should be settled into a rehabilitation facility by now.

Todd stops in the hallway and lets everyone pass us. “He’s denied rehab.” His hands clamp on the back of his neck. The stress he’s under is clear.

“You can’t admit him anyway? Have you called Carol?”

He huffs. “She’s not answering her phone. He swears he can do it with only AA because he did it years ago. I can’t control him, but I’m checking on him every night.”

“Are you going over there tonight?”

“I don’t have much of a choice.” He leans against the wall and stares down at his feet.

“I’m going with you then. After you’re finished prepping for the party, I’ll make you one of my favorite concoctions.”

I smile, and he returns a weak one.

“We’ll get you through this.” I squeeze his arm and step away.

He grabs my wrist, and his eyes fix to mine. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

A half hour later, I’m just finishing preparing the sangria pitchers when a blur of pink rushes into the restaurant, giggling and talking loudly. There’s a ratio of five to one with blondes to brunettes, then there’s always the signature redhead thrown in. They’re all dressed to the nines with their blouses and handbags swung over their arms. I don’t have to talk to any one of them to know we live very different lives.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Davis escaping from his office, and my stomach somersaults. I didn’t even know he was in yet.

“Oh, Davis. This is amazing,” the head blonde gushes, squeezing him in a tight hug.

“Anything for you, Hillary. You know that.” He hugs her back, and his eyes catch me at the bar.

One of the other Miss Priss girls follows his vision and turns around to glare at me.

After he’s released from Hillary’s clutches—at least, that’s what I like to think of it as—he asks, “How are the wedding plans coming?”

“Wonderful—at least, I hope so. I’ve instructed my wedding planners—wait!” The blonde goes into a full-on panic mode. “Where are they? They should have been here an hour ago to make sure all the favors are in order and the flowers have arrived. Mom!” she yells.

An adult version of Miss Debutant clicks over on her Manolo Blahniks.

“Where are Tina and Ralph? I don’t see my cake—” she says, her voice escalating.

I can’t help but let out a small laugh to her having a panic attack over a few pounds of sugar and flour. Of course, that earns me about five glares from her followers.

“Relax, Hillary. The cake arrived this morning. It’s in the back. I’ll have someone bring it out shortly. Tina and Ralph were here but ran out really quick,” Davis says, easing the bride-to-be’s mind.

“Good. I was going to say, they’re getting paid a lot of money, and if they—”

“It’s all being handled, Hillary. Go enjoy your shower.” Davis places his hand on her back and motions for her to sit down.

“This should just be a ball,” Lucy sarcastically says, grabbing two pitchers off the bar top.

“Don’t get too close. You might catch the pink flu,” I joke.

Lucy laughs.

“Hey, you two, what’s all the laughter about?” Davis leans on the bar, his forearm muscles flexing.

“Nothing,” Lucy answers before scurrying away to feed the elite.

He glances to Lucy’s departing back and then to me. Those brown eyes sparkle to mine. “We’re still on for today?”

Shit.

“Um . . .”

“Are you canceling on me?” He steps back from the bar, offended.

“I have to go somewhere with Todd. Maybe after, like later tonight?”

I can’t believe I forgot about my date with Davis.

He slowly nods, thinking hard about something.

“I’m really sorry. If it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t go.”

I reach across the bar top for his hand, but he steps farther away.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” I shake my head. We can’t show affection here. My head is everywhere at the moment.

“It’s okay.” He checks his perimeter. “Call me when you finish. Hopefully, this will be short and painless.” He flings his head back, insinuating the shower.

“I doubt it will be either,” I respond.

He chuckles. “Probably right about that.”

He leans over a little closer, and my heartbeat picks up.

“Is it bad to say I hope some debacle happens, like the cake gets dropped, so my time with you comes sooner?”

He changes pace fast.

“Not at all. I’m looking forward to it, too.” Lame, Amelia. You can do so much better than that.

“I hope so. I would hate to be the only one.” He smirks, backs away, and makes his way into the kitchen.

I look up, and the same girl from earlier is giving me a look that could kill.

The afternoon isn’t horrible since Lucy and Heather are working. Mostly, we make fun of the hysterical antics from the bride and her bridesmaids. It reminds me of that movie Mean Girls. The bride must be the head bitch, and the ranking goes down from there. There are no pleases or thank-yous to the wait staff. Instead, there are eye rolls and huffs of annoyance.

“What were you thinking, Amelia?” Lucy comes over, sarcastically tossing her head. “The glass has a smudge on the stem.”

She rolls her eyes, and I reach around to grab her another one, making sure I wipe it down first.

“Thanks. Can you ask Todd for more crab cakes?” Lucy snatches a bottle of wine and circles back to the table.

I move down the length of the bar.

Once I enter the hot kitchen, the tension is so intense that I automatically feel uncomfortable. “Hey, Todd,” I call out.

Both he and Davis turn in my direction. Curt, another sous chef, glances my way, and there’s terror in his eyes.

“What?” Todd snaps.

“Yeah, Amelia?” Davis questions, glaring at Todd, who’s already glaring at him.

It appears to be a standoff of chefs.

“Lucy says they need more crab cakes,” I quietly mumble, wondering if I just interrupted some owner-employee spat.

I’m surprised Davis is in the kitchen. Lately, he entertains instead of actually cooking.

“I’ll get them out,” Todd coldly replies.

He turns his attention back to cooking while Davis turns the opposite way from him. I stand there, waiting for something, but I’m not sure what. Curt nods toward the door, so I escape from the igloo confines. Who would have thought a restaurant kitchen could feel so cold?

Grabbing a tray of bread baskets, I push through the swinging kitchen door and stop dead in my tracks. My eyes fixate on the tall figure standing next to the bride-to-be. He’s dressed in pressed khaki pants with a nice button-down tucked in. His wavy hair is gelled back, giving it that put-together yet messy look. Even his accessories suggest he just stepped out from a Ralph Lauren advertisement. Although he’s mouth-watering, he isn’t the Cam I knew. I guess I always got the working-class version, a very different Cam than these people know.

“Thanks, Amelia.” Heather grabs the tray, awakening me from my thoughts and giving me a dose of reality that my ex is standing twenty feet away with his arm around the guest of honor.

Crap, is that blonde, Miss Hoity-Toity, his fiancée? Was he actually engaged when he slept in my bed?

Just as I’m about to run back into the kitchen, he turns my way. I freeze, and our eyes lock. A slow smile begins to creep across his face, and he starts to step closer. Keeping my feet grounded, as though he can’t see me, isn’t my smartest choice.

All I hear is, “Lia,” in that deep voice from the guy who used to have me wrapped around his fingers.

Then, the kitchen door hits me on the back, and I collapse facedown onto the floor.

“Amelia.” This time, the voice is Davis, a new voice that has the effect of making me melt. “I’m sorry.” He places his hand on my arm and helps me up.

Then, the tall presence comes on the other side of me. When my eyes focus back up, I notice the whole table of women are staring at me, none too pleased that I’ve interrupted their brunch.

“Are you okay?” Davis asks.

“I’m fine, really.” I wipe my hands on my pants and turn my back on both Cam and Davis.

I’ve never enjoyed attention focused on me. The women happily become engrossed in either enjoying my embarrassment or someone else’s because they bellow in laughter.

“Are you sure?” Davis comes alongside me, resting his hand on my back.

I sidestep, getting away from the purely uncomfortable feeling I have with Cam being so close.

“Yeah, Lia, sit down for a second,” Cam’s concerned—oh, I mean, fake concerned voice says.

“You know Amelia?” Davis turns to Cam, disregarding that I’m right next to him. He could have clearly asked me the question.

“Um, well—” Cam stutters.

“I was his slumming secret,” I dramatically whisper to Davis but make sure Cam can hear me.

Davis’s hand stiffens on my back.

“That’s not true,” Cam argues, but I can tell by his skittish behavior that it is.

Then, he becomes more uneasy when Head Blonde calls him over. “Cam! Cam!” She childishly whines, “Come over here.”

He stares at me for a second before turning on his loafers, submitting to his role.

Davis’s hand still hasn’t left my back, and I notice Heather, Leo, and Lucy staring intently at us. Once Davis sees all their prying eyes, his hand flies off my body. Not in the mood for another secret affair, I distance myself to the end of the bar, straightening the glasses. I’m not sure why, but when Davis retreats back into the kitchen, a sadness comes over me. Maybe he’s worried that he’s slumming it just like Cam.