“About what?” I swallow thickly, completely overwhelmed by this conversation. I imagined seeing Camden again one day, but I never thought our reunion would go like this. Like he didn’t just up and leave, and we didn’t spend five years apart without saying a single word to each other. Like he didn’t become a huge rock star, and I didn’t go to college, get pregnant, and then get married.
“The band,” he says, knocking me from my chaotic thoughts. “Our performance. Bailey said you videoed it for Cade. Did you enjoy it?”
“You guys were amazing,” I say truthfully. “Better than you were in high school.”
Camden nods. “And what about the last song?” He squeezes the hand he’s holding against his chest, and my heartbeat picks up speed. “What’d you think about it?”
Holy shit. Did he seriously just straight out ask me about that song?
“I think…” I inhale deeply, the scent of him making me feel slightly dizzy, then release a harsh breath, unsure what to say. Thankfully, before I can finish my thought, my mom calls my name, breaking the moment.
“I think I better go see what my mom wants.” I pull my hand away from his and turn my back on him, trying to get away quickly without making it look like I’m running.
I’m almost to the kitchen when Camden’s strong hand lands on my shoulder, halting me in place. His front presses against my back, and his lips brush against the shell of my ear. I stand here, frozen in my spot, waiting to see what he’s going to do, when he leans in and murmurs, “For the record, your mom isn’t the only one who missed you, Shutterbug. I’ve missed you too.”
And with those words, he steps around me and saunters into the kitchen, looking unaffected by our interaction as he asks the women if dinner’s ready. While I wonder if maybe David was right and moving here was a bad idea. Because the butterflies in my belly that are swarming around… they’re not for my husband.
And that’s a problem—a big problem.
CHAPTER TEN
LAYLA
“I don’t wanna go home,” Felix whines, rubbing his fists against his eyes in exhaustion. “I wanna play with Camden.”
“You’ve played enough,” I tell him, lifting him into my arms while Camden takes the controller from him.
“But Mom…” he says in a voice that tells me he’s about to have a meltdown. He’s spent the past few hours playing Sonic the Hedgehog with Camden after he found an old Sega Genesis my dad had in the cabinet from many years ago because he loved the classic games—and after asking what it was, Camden set it up so they could play. It’s late now, and David texted asking when we would be home. Not wanting to fight anymore, I told him soon.
“Hey, bud,” Camden says. “How about you head home with your mom, and if it’s okay with her, the next time you come to see your grandma, I’ll come over and play with you?”
Felix sighs, not liking it, but then he gives in and nods. “Fine.”
I don’t bother to mention by then Camden should be back on tour and far away from here. If it means getting Felix to leave without a fight, I’ll go along with it and hope he doesn’t remember this conversation later.
We make our rounds, saying goodbye to everyone, and then Camden shocks me when he walks us out, holding the door for me while I carry Felix to my car. We don’t live far, but I drove, knowing we would be here until after dark.
He opens the passenger door for me, and I slip Felix into his booster seat. He says bye to Camden, his eyes already fluttering closed, and I shut the door, leaving Camden and me alone.
He steps toward me, and I take a step back, not wanting to fall under his trance again.
“Look,” I say, putting my hand out so he can’t come any closer. “I don’t know what happened in there earlier, during our conversation, but…” I swallow down the lump of emotion in my throat, knowing what I say next will most likely send us back to square one—and not the square in high school when we first met, but the one where he left and didn’t speak to me for years. “I’m married.”
“I know,” he says, his mouth curving into a slight frown, which is so unlike the cocky guy I’ve been in the presence of all night.
“It’s inappropriate to flirt with a married woman.”
His gaze meets mine. “Who said anything about flirting? I’m just catching up with my best friend.” He shrugs innocently.
“Your best friend?” I scoff. “No. You lost that title five years ago when you moved to the West Coast without so much as a goodbye. We were best friends. Now…” I look at the older version of the boy I used to know, realizing I know nothing about him anymore. “Now, we’re strangers.”