“Camden!” she hisses, making my eyes rise. On my way up to her face, I catch sight of something I’ve never seen before.
“I brought Felix some chicken soup,” I say, lifting the brown bag up and setting it on the table. “Is that…?” I step closer, taking in the black ink etched into her skin between her collarbone and shoulder. It’s a camera, similar to the one she used to carry with her everywhere she went. Only instead of it being put together, the lens is broken, and pieces of it ascend up and over her shoulder. “Holy shit,” I breathe when I see the single word that’s scribbled across the front of the camera, where the brand name should go. “You got a tattoo of the song I wrote about you.”
Her eyes go wide, and then she drops her gaze to her towel-covered chest. Her hands fly across her body as if just realizing she’s been standing here this entire time in nothing but a towel.
“Oh my God!” she gasps. She’s about to run away, but before she can, I reach out and grab her arm, pulling her into the kitchen, where Felix can’t see us, but we’re close enough to hear him.
“Let me see it,” I insist, once I’ve backed her against the edge of the counter.
“No! Let go of me,” she hisses. “I need to get dressed.”
“Not until I see it.” I place my hands over hers on either side of her body and get a good look at the tattoo, shocked as shit that she actually inked herself permanently with the title of my song.
“When did you do this?” I ask, looking up and meeting her eyes, our faces only a few inches apart.
“The night of the concert. I had too much to drink. It was a drunken—”
“No.” I press my fingers to her lips to silence her. “Don’t you dare blame drinking on this. You never do shit without thinking it through. You’re the most levelheaded person I know.”
“I—” she breathes, but I cut her off.
“We’ll talk about your tattoo later… when we’re alone. What I want to discuss right now is the job offer.”
Her eyes go wide, confused as to why I’m changing the subject. What she doesn’t understand is that I plan to have my chance with her, but it won’t be until she’s ready—and based on that tattoo, it’s clear she has some kind of feelings for me—but her lame excuse of being drunk tells me she’s not ready to pursue those feelings yet. So I’ll wait until she’s ready. Because I’m a patient guy.
“The job pays six figures and requires light travel. It would start as a ninety-day trial period, and once the ninety days are up, if both sides are happy, we’ll sign a one-year contract.”
“Six figures?” she chokes out. “But I have Felix…”
“We know you have a son and that he’ll always come first. You don’t think my parents know a thing or two about raising kids while working in the music industry? You’ve got this, Shutterbug, and we all have your back.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LAYLA
“Mommy! Look what I made for Daddy’s birthday.” Felix thrusts a card and a drawing at me. “It says Happy Birthday, Daddy. I love you, and I hope you have yummy cake and share it with me.”
I look at the random letters that most definitely do not spell any of those words and then smile down at Felix. “This is beautiful. Your dad is going to love it. And I bet he’ll share his cake with you.”
Felix beams. “I wanna give it to him now.”
“Oh, umm,” I say, unsure what to do. David hasn’t taken Felix overnight with the excuse that he’s getting everything together. We’ve met a few times at the park and a couple of times for dinner, but every time, it ends with him begging me to work things out and him getting mad when I tell him it’s not happening. I’m starting to wonder if maybe he’s hoping if he prolongs getting his own place long enough, I’ll give in and take him back, even though I’ve made it clear that’s not going to happen. Simply looking at him disgusts me, and if I could have it my way, he would drop off the face of the planet and leave Felix and me alone, but that’s not how real life works. David is Felix’s dad, and by law, he gets to see him every other weekend and every Wednesday until he’s eighteen.
“Please.” Felix looks up at me with puppy dog eyes that I have a hard time saying no to.
“Okay, sure. We can go by his office.”
“And bring him cake?”
Oh, Lord. “Sure, we can pick one up on the way.”
“Yay!” He jumps up and down in excitement.
We take the train downtown and then stop by the bakery across from the building David works in. When we arrive at his office, no one is at the receptionist's desk, so we walk past it and head straight to David’s office.