By the time I get to my mom’s, I’m so worked up over everything, I’m not paying attention when I walk inside… and come face-to-face with Camden Blackwood.
“What are you doing here?”
“Well, hello to you too, Shutterbug.” He smirks.
Hearing my nickname on his lips sends liquid heat through my veins. I haven’t heard it in five years, and now he’s said it twice in twelve hours. It shouldn’t affect me like this. He shouldn’t affect me like this… but it does. He does. Fuck, this isn’t good.
“Why are you here?”
“Umm… because I live here?” he says with a chuckle.
“No, you live in LA, and I thought you were on tour.” Please don’t say you’ve moved back. My marriage will never survive it.
“Keeping tabs on me? That’s sweet. We are on tour, but in case you forgot, we performed here last night. And since we have a few days before our next show, I’m staying with my parents to get some family time in.”
I sigh in relief. Okay, that’s okay. It’s temporary. Soon, he’ll be on his way out of here, and then everything can go back to normal.
We’re both silent for a second, and then it hits me…
“Why are you here?”
Camden’s brows furrow. “Didn’t we just go over this? I’m spending time with—”
“I mean, here, in my house.”
He glances around and then laughs. “I’m pretty sure it’s your mom’s house, and I’m here for dinner. My entire family is.”
Oh, shit. This cannot be happening.
Before I can respond, Felix comes barreling down the hall. “Mommy, you’re back!” he squeals, throwing himself into my arms. I lift him up, prying my gaze off Camden to give my son my full attention. “I went to the museum with Grandma, and she got me an ice cream. And we made cool art, and I made you something, but it’s a secret.”
“A secret, huh? What kind of secret?”
Felix’s eyes go wide, realizing he let something he wasn’t supposed to tell me slip. “I can’t tell you! It’s a secret.”
“Maybe… I’ll… tickle it out of you.” I tickle his sides playfully, and he squirms.
“No, Mommy! It’s a secret.”
“Fine.” I sigh and stop tickling him. “Were you good for Grandma?”
“Duh.” He rolls his eyes, and Camden laughs, reminding me that he’s still here.
Our eyes lock, and the softness in his eyes reminds me that he wrote a song about me.
“Mommy, put me down,” Felix whines, wiggling his body to get down. “Nanna is letting me mix the potatoes.”
“Nanna’s here?” I ask, putting him down. I haven’t seen her since I moved. Because I spent so much time at Camden’s house in high school, she became like a grandma to me, doting on me as much as she did Camden.
Without answering me, Felix runs out of the room and back into the kitchen.
“Nanna’s here?” I ask Camden, since he’s still standing in the foyer with me.
“Yeah. She and my mom came over earlier to help your mom cook.”
“Well, then you know the food is going to be delicious.” I rub my belly. “I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. I can’t cook for shit.”
Camden laughs. “That doesn’t surprise me in the least. I can still recall putting out quite a few fires when you would try back in the day.”
“Oh, hush.” I shove him playfully, but before I can move my hand, he grabs it and tugs me toward him, so we’re close… too close.
“It’s been a long time, Layles.” With the hand he’s not holding mine with, he tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, causing me to shiver when his flesh brushes against mine.
He notices, and a knowing smirk quirks up on one side of his mouth. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” I say, internally cringing at how breathless those two words come out.
“I heard you’re back for good. Is that true?”
“Yeah, we’re back for good.” I emphasize the we’re to remind him—and me—that I’m married.
Camden nods. “That’s good. You were definitely missed.”
I know I’m playing with fire when I say my next words, but I blame it on that damn song because I can’t stop thinking about the words and what they mean. Everything about Camden’s and my relationship now feels like a lie. I’m overanalyzing every word, every touch, wondering if what everyone said is true. If he really had feelings for me. The song said he had to put me to rest. Does that mean he’s over me? Or is he trying to get over me? Could he still have feelings for me?
“Who missed me?”
His eyes dance with what looks like mirth, and when he leans in like he’s about to tell me a secret, I hold my breath, waiting for what he’s going to say.
“Your mom, of course.” He steps back slightly, keeping my hand in his, and looks into my eyes. “I didn’t know you’d be at the concert last night. What did you think?”