10 Years Later

“’Bye, Dalton.”

“’Bye, babe.”

As thankful as I was for that phone call, it only made me want to hop on a plane and hustle my ass straight to her house to work our relationship out. I walked into my boss’s office to see what else I needed to do, and to see how quickly I could get back to LA.

I needed to see my girl.

And eat some cookies.

Love Is Worth the Risk

Cammie

I couldn’t believe that Dalton was back on the East Coast and our conversation would have to wait. Served me right for waiting so long to contact him in the first place.

Instead of calling him the second I left my mom’s house, I forced myself not to call. I wanted to take the time to really think about things, like I had promised myself I would.

It had been a full week since I’d kicked him out, telling him I couldn’t be with him. It had been hellish, and each time I reached for the phone to call him, I knew it wouldn’t be fair to him if I wasn’t completely convinced that I could truly do this with him. I needed to be all-in, because I knew in my heart that he was. Dalton had been all-in the moment he arrived at the reunion and basically spilled his guts to me.

The thing was, I still had some of my own grieving to do. I spent four nights crying, letting emotions out that I’d kept locked inside while I tried to be strong for my mom and everyone else after my dad died, even though I knew now that no one expected me to be. It wasn’t that I never cried when I lost my dad, but I sucked a lot of it in and held it there.

It was so cathartic to finally let go of the pain that had become such an integral part of me. I released a lot of it, and suddenly felt like something was missing as my body lightened. I expected to feel free, but instead I felt vulnerable without it, almost naked.

My mom’s words had truly made an impact on me when it came to Dalton and my heart. I needed to hear her perspective and her advice. Kristy had been completely right about that one, much to her satisfaction that she constantly rubbed in my face.

Work had been a helpful distraction over the past week. The guys rarely asked me about Dalton, and were smart enough to smile and pretend to buy my responses. Everyone believed that Dalton and I were completely happy and doing well. Not that I ever planned to admit otherwise to them.

The last thing I wanted was to get that personal with Tom and John, and have that conversation lead into what happened to my dad. I knew what would happen—their eyes would fill with pity, and they’d n

ever see me in the same way again.

No longer would I be Cammie, the awesome assistant producer. Instead I’d be Cammie-the-survivor, or Cammie whose-dad-died-when-she-was-sixteen, or Cammie isn’t-it-sad-she-has-no-dad. People tended to define others by the things that happened to them. And I didn’t want to be defined that way at my job when my loss had already defined so much of my high school and early college years.

I was finally ready to move into a different phase. It would never be okay that my dad was gone and I would always mourn his loss, but I no longer wanted to associate myself with that loss, to be identified with it. I wanted to be me, plain and simple, just Cammie.

I only had one more night to get through before Dalton would be back in town. He’d texted this morning to let me know that things were wrapping up and he’d be back tomorrow, although he wasn’t sure what time.

Placing the first batch of cookies into the oven, I almost dropped the pan when someone knocked twice before barging in.

“Jesus, Dalton, you scared the hell out of me!” I yelled as he rounded the corner of the kitchen and scooped me into his arms. Wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, I met his lips with as much fervor as he was giving mine.

He pulled back slightly, his hands firmly cupping my ass. “I caught an early flight.” Then he pressed his lips to mine again quickly before pulling back.

“I can see that.” I smiled as I played with the back of his neck and his hair. “You almost made me drop your cookies.”

His mouth fell open as he let me go and I nearly dropped to the floor. He caught me and placed my feet gently on the ground. “You almost dropped my cookies? That’s why people break up, Cammie.”

I laughed. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too. And not to be a dick or anything, but I don’t want to waste any more time. Can we please talk?”

“Yes.” I moved out of the kitchen, unsure of where to sit. The kitchen table would feel more formal, but the couch might be too relaxed. “Where do you want to sit? The table or the couch?”

“Depends on if you’re dumping me or not,” he said in a weak attempt to tease, but I sensed a bit of uncertainty there. “If you’re going to try to tell me you can’t do this, I’ll take the table. But if you’re going to tell me the right thing, the only answer I’ll accept, then we should sit on the couch.”

Shaking my head, I reached for his hand and pulled him toward the kitchen table as a joke. When he realized my intention, Dalton stopped in his tracks, and my hand jerked in his as he refused to move forward. “I’m only kidding,” I said before practically running toward the couch.

He scrunched up his face like a little kid. “Stop toying with my heart, woman.”