“Really?” I say, fighting the corners of my lips from tugging up just yet.
“What else would matter?”
“Dom, seriously, she better never touch you again. I mean it. I’ll go crazy. Rich girl crazy. We have tons of avenues of destruction at our hands.”
“Noted.” He bends down and puts his lips on mine. I don’t kiss him back at first, trying to hold out long enough to make my point. Then his tongue licks along my bottom lip and I can’t help but return the gesture. “Now that’s settled—”
“Oh, it’s not settled,” I resist. “I hate her. You have to understand the depths to which I’d like to see her eaten by a host of fire ants.”
His laugh washes over me and makes me smile even though I don’t feel like it. “Fire ants?”
“It’s all I could come up with.”
He moves to the side and winces, almost dropping to his knees in pain. “Fuck.”
“What can I do for you, Dom?” I say, rushing to his side.
Sucking in a breath, he stands back up slowly. “Nothing,” he hisses. “I just have to wait ’til it goes away.”
“You can’t fight like this. You could get seriously injured. This is no joke.”
“I’m fighting. That’s the end of it.”
Taking a deep breath, I try to remember I’m playing the role of supportive girlfriend, not naysaying nag. But when his face pales and he doubles over again, gripping his side, a gleam of sweat dotting his forehead, I can’t help but want to protect him.
“Dom, I’m serious. There’s no reason for you to risk this. You have to think about your health here.”
“I have to think about paying my rent that just went up. I have to think about buying groceries and feeding Ryder until Nate gets himself back together. I have to think about making sure The Gold Room doesn’t go to the tax sale this year and sock a little away to buy a few things for Christmas. This is my way of not having to do it again.
“This money is my rainy day fund, Cam. Without it, I’m more paycheck-to-paycheck than I already am. I’ve counted on this for years now, like a bonus I get every six months or something. Don’t think I don’t know I can’t keep doing it . . .” He looks at the floor, embarrassment written all over his face.
Instantly, I feel bad. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize . . .”
“It’s hard for you to think about things like this. It must be. You were just at a place where people were giving their money away, offering trips to Paris. I’m destroying myself so I can keep a roof over my head if I get laid off at some point.” He smiles a broken, wobbly smile. “I don’t blame you for thinking the way you do. You’re right, actually. But sometimes being right doesn’t fix things.”
“Can I at least come watch you?” I ask, my hand on his forearm on his Joey tattoo. “Let me be there. I want to be.”
“There’s no way.” His response is immediate and with a flourish of finality.
“Why?”
“Imagine the wildest, most about it people you can think of. Now put them all together in a room where the purpose is fighting. What do you think you have?”
When I don’t answer, he does it for me.
“Mayhem. You have mayhem.”
As if the conversation is over, he climbs out of the ring, taking a few seconds to recover from the movement in his ribs. He helps me out, kisses my forehead, and after I slip on my heels, he leads me out the door.
Dominic
SHE COMES OUT OF HER bathroom wrapped up in a giant white towel. Another is wound around her head like a turban. She smells fresh and clean and looks like my Cam all stripped of the fancy shit that I love, but that’s not her.
She’s this: simple and sweet and innocent. She’s everything I’m not and I want to protect that about her. Yet just by being with me, it brings out things in her that shouldn’t be.
Hateful, like she was tonight when she saw me with Hannah. Damn, that makes a man feel good to see his woman want him, only for her, that bad. But she shouldn’t even fuck with the idea of being second to someone else. Not even for a moment. It’s impossible.
Careless, like she is when she shows up in places she shouldn’t be.
Conflicted with her family because they think she can do better.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, I look up at her. I know I’m switching into fight mode. It happens a day or two before fight night every time. I’m touchy, cross, more than a little ill-tempered. It’s exacerbated by the text that sits on her phone a few inches away—a text that offers all the things I can’t provide.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asks, going into her closet. She rummages around and comes out a few minutes later in the yellow number I love for bed.
“You got a text,” I tell her as she climbs onto the bed. I don’t move, just sit facing the doorway. “I was lying there and it went off. Thought it was mine and picked it up.”
I give her time to read it, process what I’ve seen, before I look at her. “I don’t care who that bastard is, I’m going to dismantle him.”
“He couldn’t whip his way out of a wet paper bag,” Camilla sighs, sinking back in her pillows. “So if that makes you feel more like a man, go for it. Just know if I wanted to beat him up, I probably could.”
“That was Barron, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Exhaling a long, shaky breath, I look at the doorway again. “He really asked you to Paris.” It’s not a question, although I questioned it before. I know it’s true because I read the text. “Some dumb shit asked you to another country.”
I could never take her to another country. I can barely take her out of this county. Who is she hanging out with where invitations to France are tossed casually around and why did this Barron Monroe think she was fair game?
“As you can see, I told him no. Which is more, I might add, than you told Red.”
“Damn it, Cam,” I growl. “I needed the help.”
“She looked handy all right.”
I twist around the best I can. “I’ve known her for years.”
“I’ve known Barron since we wore diapers. Does that make a difference to you? Barron also didn’t touch me tonight—”
“You better hope he didn’t,” I say through clenched teeth, the mere thought of it making me want to come unglued as I turn to look at her.
There’s a shift between us that wasn’t there before tonight. I don’t know what caused it or how to fix it, only that I won’t be sleeping and I won’t be saying anything that will be helpful tomorrow. And by the look on her face, she won’t either.
Standing, I grab my shirt off the floor and pull it over my head.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“Home. I have a bunch of shit to do and I’m not going to sleep anyway.”
She sits up, her gown barely covering the tops of her breasts. “I’m sorry, not about Barron because I can’t help that. But I am sorry about the Red stuff. I need to let it go.”
“Yes, you do.” I bend over and give her a simple kiss. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She starts to say something, but I keep walking. It’s probably better than me sticking around. We’re both irritable and it’ll end in a fight. There are no two ways about it.
Camilla
“Here they are in green,” I say, holding up a pair of yoga pants. “I think she said she has them in a grey now too.”
Joy and I search the racks of Halcyon, looking through Ellie’s new arrivals. Her business is really picking up, and she and her business partner, Violet, have hired a couple of people to help them. They especially need it now that Ellie’s going to be a mama.
“I didn’t know you were here,” Ellie squeals, coming around the corner from the back. “Why didn’t you tell me you were stopping in?”
“It was a last-minute decision,” I tell her. “We were having lunch down the street and decided to come in for yoga pants.”
“I love hers,” Joy gushes. “I need them in ev
ery color.”
“There are a bunch in the back that we haven’t put out yet. Let me go see what’s back there.”
She disappears, leaving the two of us milling around with a few other customers.
“How are thing with Dominic?” Joy asks.
“Good.”
“And the lie detector reads that’s a lie.”
“It’s not a lie. They aren’t bad. They’re just . . . not as great as they have been.”
“What’s going on?”
I shrug again, flipping through a rack of shirts. “I’m mad that this little gym rat keeps hitting on him. He’s mad that Barron asked me to Paris.”
“Barron Monroe? Ew.”
“I know,” I sigh. “I’d never go. But it’s enough to make Dom frustrated and ready to kill.”
“Pardon me for saying this but that would be . . . oh my God.” Her eyes bug out as she looks over my shoulder. Just as quickly, she goes back to the rack of clothes. “Who in the hell is that?”
Looking back, I laugh. “Hey, Nate!”
“What’s up, Priss?”
“You know him?” Joy hisses. “Introduce me.”
“Nate, this is my friend Joy,” I say as he gets closer. “Joy, this is Dom’s brother, Nate.”
He stutter-steps as he takes her in, a slow grin splitting his cheeks. “Nice to meet you, Joy.”
“Same here. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Is that so?”
“Not really,” she giggles. “But isn’t that what people are supposed to say?”
“Excuse me for butting in,” I say, laughing. “What on Earth brings you here, Mr. Hughes?”
“I saw your car and knew this was your family’s place. It’s driving me crazy hanging on to this check and I wanted to give it to you and not be responsible for it anymore.” He takes an envelope from his pocket and extends it to me. “Thank you again, Cam.”
I take the envelope, but he pulls me into an unexpected hug before I get my arm back. “You are a great friend,” he whispers in my ear. “And you’d be an even better one if you told me Joy doesn’t have a boyfriend. Not that I really give a shit, but I need to know which angle to come at it.”
Laughing, I pull back and shake my head. “Free,” I mouth, watching his eyes light up.
“Joy, do you have any plans for this evening?” he asks, jumping right to the point.
“No. And if I did, it would be nothing I can’t move around.”
He grins. She swoons. I can’t help but giggle.
“Would there be any chance we could hook up and grab some dinner or something?”
“I’d love that.”
I leave them standing by the yoga pants and make a beeline for Ellie as she comes back into the room. “I love watching love,” I sing-song.
“What did you do now?” she asks.
“I didn’t do anything. Fate just swung by and—voila! Dates are being made.”
“Nice,” Ellie giggles.
Nate says something and Joy throws her head back and laughs. His face is lit up like I’ve never seen it and it warms my heart for them both. They exchange numbers and Nate heads for the door, stopping short of leaving.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Ellie. Making my way across the store, he waits for me. “How’d that go?”
“Lord, she’s beautiful. And funny. We’re going to dinner at six.”
“She’ll love you.”
“Hey, take it easy,” he jokes. “I’m just looking for a lay.”
“You are not, asshole. You need a good girl to settle you down, and Joy might be the one to do it.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll see.”
“Yes, we will.” I toe at the rug. “So, how’s Dom today?”
“You haven’t heard from him?”
I look at the ground, my heart sinking with it. “He’s irritated with me. I’m irritated with him. I don’t think we’re in full-blown avoidance, but the communication isn’t flowing either.”
“I heard about Hannah,” he cringes.
“I hate her.”
“I won’t fuck her anymore, just for you.”
“You’re such a jerk,” I say, but can’t help but laugh. “But Dom?”
He shrugs. “He’s good. A little grouchy, but he usually is before a fight. And with that rib . . .”
“He shouldn’t be fighting, Nate.”
“I agree, but he’s going to regardless of what we say, so it’s always better just to support him and try to help him not get hurt.”
“Is that what you suggest I do? Just support him?”
“Always, Priss. Always.” He looks at his watch. “I gotta go. I have a few errands to run and then I take over for Liz at the bar. Need anything, call me.”
I watch him walk out and jog to his truck. As I watch him climb in, I take my phone out and type a quick text.
Me: I miss you.
Dom: Going into gym. Talk soon.
Dominic
“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” I breathe in the steam radiating off the tea in the china cup in front of me.
“Chamomile.” Cam places another bag in a cup that matches mine, all dainty and painted in light pink flower petals, and then pours water on top. “It helps sore muscles, spasms, and inflammation.”
“So does whiskey,” I offer, taking a sip. It’s grassy and flowery and nothing I’ll hopefully ever drink again. “Not bad.”
“I don’t care whether you like it or not, I want you to drink it.”
She sits at the table across from me and watches me. I don’t know what to say, the weirdness between us from the whole Hannah and Barron bullshit still fresh and heavy. It’s stupid. I know it and she probably does too. If I was in this situation with anyone else, it would be so much easier. I’d just walk away.
Fact of the matter is that I’m in this situation with her, Camilla Landry, the woman that is the epitome of what they call a “catch.” She’s the catch of a lifetime, the best thing in the world you could possibly haul in. But then I look at the line I reeled her in with, the boat I’m captaining, and I have to consider that I’m a jackass for doing this to her.
“I can feel it healing me already,” I joke, needing to dissipate the stress in the room somehow.
She smiles proudly. “See? I fixed you.” She knows I’m kidding, but is playing along with the same need to stop the tension.
It’s been two days since the charity event. I don’t know why we aren’t communicating, but we aren’t. Part of it is this upcoming fight—both because she doesn’t want me to do it and because I’m focusing on it just to keep from getting hurt. It’s the nature of the sport.
“You’ll be interested to know,” I say, setting the teacup down, “that Nate called off seeing Chrissy tonight. And he told Hannah he was busy.”
“Really?”
“He’s been very . . . joyful,” I wink.
“Ah,” she squeals. “This makes me so happy!”
“She seems nice and I think Nate likes her. At least enough to want to see her again tomorrow night.”
“Did he tell you he paid me back?”
“Yeah,” I say, taking another sip of the tea. “Did you tell your brothers to fuck off?”
She grins, pulling her legs up on the chair. “I did, actually. I just sent them a group text and told them I had the money so they could stop being worried about me being scammed.”
I shake my head, my annoyance rising. “Maybe they’ll see us for what we are and not what they think we are.”
“I think you’re wrong about them.”
“Oh, really?” I laugh.
“Yeah, really. I talked to my mom about Paulina and Raquel.” She bites her lip to keep from smiling. “She said they were jealous.”
“Of course they were. Have you seen me?”
“Oh my God,” she laughs. “You sound like Lincoln.”
“Don’t do that to me.”
She laughs again.
“I’ve missed that,”
I admit.
“What?”
“That sound. Your laugh,” I sigh. “Right now, you look carefree and happy. Like you used to.”
Naturally, the look falls from her face at the mention. Her feet go back to the floor and her forehead mars with evidence of how complicated things have gotten.
“What’s wrong between us, Dom?” She looks at her teacup, twirling it around on the table. “I hate this.”
“I hate this too. I hate it most because I’m the cause of your missing smile.”
She frowns, then catches herself and leans forward. “It’s not you, Dominic.”
“Really? What else is it?”
“It’s fighting. And Red,” she snarls, then grins so I know she’s not completely serious. “It’s my brothers and charity events and self-absorbed heirs that invite me to Paris.”
“I’m still busting his ass.”
She rolls her eyes. “I want things fixed. We have to figure out how to navigate all of this before it causes real problems.”
“Can we fix it at all? I mean, really, Cam. How much of this will just keep coming back over and over again because of who we are and what we do?”
“You aren’t fighting after this though, right?”
“No,” I concede, “but I’ll still go down there and train. It’s my therapy, and God knows I need therapy. I’m tight with Percy; he’s like family to me. You’re still going to do charity work because that’s who you are. It’s . . . us, Cam, that’s the problem. Not something we can just say we won’t do anymore.”
Her eyes get watery. I feel like a dick, although I’m trying to be honest. I don’t want to hurt her—that would be the last damn thing I do on purpose. But these aren’t things we can ignore and we may as well get them out there.
She stands and comes around the table. I scoot back and she wastes no time sitting on my lap. I rest my head on her shoulder, breathing in her perfume with the scents of the body wash she uses just underneath.
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