The Real

“Damn you, act your age, idiot,” I fumed as I dropped the phone and landed two solid punches to Oliver’s arm. He “oofed” with a chuckle.

Retrieving my phone, I pointed at the door then righted myself and the phone so I could see Cameron as my face flamed.

Oliver walked out of the room with a “Later, Cameron.”

“Later, man,” Cameron answered as I put my attention back on him with no dignity intact. “He’s such a shit.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“The man is a thirty-five-year-old toddler.”

“He seems like a lot of fun.”

“He’s a dick. Enough about my brother, I miss you.” God, I was so gone. I waggled my brows. “All of me misses you.”

“I’ll be at your door the minute you get home. And next Thanksgiving,” Cameron added, melancholy, “we spend together. Okay? I feel like we’re teenagers sneaking around.”

“Okay.”

Heart overflowing, I twisted the new gold bracelet on my wrist. An early Christmas gift Cameron gave me before I left for my parents’ house.

“I love my bracelet.”

Cameron grinned. “It’s engraved. I was waiting for you to notice but you didn’t.”

I snapped it off and peered inside. It read: You’ve bewitched me body and soul.

It was a quote from Pride and Prejudice. My eyes glistened with happy tears.

“Now I love it even more. What do you want for Christmas?”

Cameron’s eyes closed briefly. “I’d say Santa came through early this year. I got what I wanted a few months ago.”

“Oh, and what’s that?”

“I’m looking at her.”

My eyes watered as he leaned into the phone, his eyes filled with affection. “Abbie—”

“Hey, Jezebel!” Oliver called from the top of the stairs. “You think you can ditch the new boy toy long enough to help Mom in the kitchen so we can eat today?”

I glared in my brother’s direction as Cameron chuckled. “Are your hands broken?”

I rolled my eyes and looked on at Cameron. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, go feed Dr. Dick. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

King of Woo: Hey, beautiful, are you almost ready?

Me: Yes, I’ll be ready in five.

King of Woo: I’ll be there in four.

He was chaperoning the winter formal at the high school he coached for and had invited me as his date. I had to admit, I went a little overboard when I went shopping for my dress.

But the butterflies that raced through me weren’t one of a high school girl. These belonged to a woman who had kissed far too many gutter frogs and had finally met her sidewalk prince.

All of my fears were being put to rest daily. I was no longer a woman afraid. I was a woman in love.