I shake my head. “No, I just wanted to give her an update on some materials I ordered. It can wait.”
My life is back in New York, she had told me. Clearly.
Cheryl climbs into the driver’s side of her SUV and waves as she backs out, leaving me standing like an idiot alone in Helen’s driveway. When I hadn’t heard from Lizzie, I’d assumed she just didn’t want to get any closer than our recent professional relationship. I hadn’t anticipated that she would just up and leave so quickly. I thought that, maybe, she shared the spark I felt, too. Oh well, I have my answer and that’s all I need to know. When... if... she comes back to Rocky Point, I’ll make sure the roof and plumbing get taken care of, and that’s it. No catching up. No second chances.
I climb back into my car and see that my cell phone is blinking. Unlocking the screen, I scroll through several text messages and missed calls from my mother:
Missed Call: Mom
Mom: Cameron, your brother will be the death of me.
Mom: Cameron, have you seen the tabloids?
Missed Call: Mom
Missed Call: Mom
Mom: It said something about “spilling the tea” on his new girlfriend. Why would he spill tea on someone? Did you know he had a girlfriend?
Mom: What does “on fleek” mean?
Missed Call: Mom
Mom: Did he tell you he had a girlfriend?
I roll my eyes and dial her back, preparing my speech about not paying attention to the tabloids. My brother Grayson, an aspiring actor, has recently landed himself a recurring role on a popular Soap Opera. Mom and I had this talk once before, when I found her glued to her computer screen, Googling Grayson’s name and scrolling endlessly through random corners of the internet looking for gossip about him, proof that he’s “made it.” I didn’t think we’d have to have it again so soon, but here we are.
She picks up on the first ring, like she has been eagerly anticipating my call. I can practically hear her vibrating on the other end of the line, unable to contain herself.
“Well, did you see it?” she asks.
I respond with a long, drawn-out sigh, and then, “No. I did not see it.”
“Oh, Cameron it’s awful. Apparently he spilled tea all over his girlfriend on their first date,” she says. “I think. I didn’t know Grayson drank tea, to be honest.”
“Mom, ‘spilling the tea’ doesn’t mean spilling actual tea. It Gen Z speak for gossiping,” I explain. There is a long beat of silence on the other end while mom contemplates my lesson in today’s hip slang.
“Hmm,” she finally says. “Well, that’s better than literally spilling tea, I suppose. Now, what about that other word?”
“Which word?”
“Fleek.”
“It means to look good.”
“Now that’s just silly.”
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” I ask impatiently.
“Your brother’s new girlfriend!” she says. “He just got a part on that Soap Opera, what’s it called? While the Globe Spins? Anyway, supposedly he’s dating his co-star, who plays his love interest on the show!”
That piques my curiosity, since I’m pretty sure that most of the actresses in that show are super famous. I put the call on speaker phone while I look it up. Sure enough, the first headline from The Daily Star, a popular tabloid magazine, proclaims: Grayson Tate, TV’s Newest Heartthrob, Snags a New Beau. Could There Be Trouble Brewing? Tea Will Be Spilled.
I have to do a double take, because the picture associated with the article is of Grayson in jeans, a t-shirt, and sunglasses holding hands with a very familiar-looking woman. She’s tall and leggy, with bronzed skin and jet-black hair that cascades in a pin-straight curtain down her back and over her shoulders. She’s wearing sunglasses too, but she is unmistakable. It’s Ariana Lopez, famed actress and singer, and Grayson’s co-star on the show.
Holy shit. “I didn’t see that coming.”
“I’m concerned,” my mom says. “These types of things never end well. I think you should call him and tell him to knock it off.”
“Oh, come on,” I say. “He’s out in L.A. with a legit acting gig, dating a super-hot, famous actress. He’s living the dream.”
“He’s going to get hurt. He should just be focusing on his career, not getting distracted by some drama queen actress.”
“Mom, you have to let Gray make his own decisions. This is what he wanted.”
“Fine, but can you at least call him? Just to check in.”
“Fine.”
“Have I ever told you you’re my favorite son?”
Chapter Seven
Elizabeth
THURSDAY MORNING, I am in the car bright and early, headed back up to Rocky Point and finding the long drive up the New England coast strangely cathartic this time around. Almost the minute I cross over the NYC border, I feel the stress melt away and realize I can’t wait to take in the scenery and have some time to breathe. Between Gran’s health and the state of her house, it’s clear I’m needed in Rocky Point pretty badly. Unfortunately, I just hadn’t planned on how long I’d be needed.
I checked out of my hotel Sunday night and left Rocky Point, heading back to NYC, work, and my normal life for a few days. Leaving Rocky Point felt wrong, but I hadn’t cleared time off beyond the weekend with my boss, and I knew she wouldn’t react very well if I called out. I hadn’t expected Gran to be so bad, though, and the farther and farther I got from Rocky Point, the guiltier I felt. Cheryl had promised to keep an eye on Gran so that I could tie up a few loose ends on my current work projects, and work out some extended time off. I have a ton of unused vacation time, plus some holiday comp time I can take, which easily gives me a few weeks off if I need it. My boss wasn’t thrilled when I told her – actually, that’s an understatement. Whitney was thoroughly pissed, and didn’t hesitate to tell me how much of a lurch I was leaving her in. Thankfully, she didn’t threaten to fire me, which I half expected. I do, however, fully expect her to make my life a living hell upon my return. Oh, well. I’ll deal with that after I deal with everything else.
There is a ton to be done if the goal is to get Gran’s house ready to sell, and make sure her affairs are in order. I need to make sure whatever work needs done on the house gets taken care of, and to schedule a meeting with Gran’s lawyer to discuss her situation. With any luck, the damage to the roof and drywall won’t be nearly as bad as it seems. I won’t know for sure, though, until Cam and his crew can get started, which is why my first stop when I get back into town is Tate Construction.
The thought twists my stomach into a knot.
As much as I loathe to admit it, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Cam since I left town on Sunday. What started as a few morbidly curious thoughts weaseling their way into my long drive home soon turned in to a full-blown preoccupation, and now I’m lucky if I go ten minutes without finding myself drifting off into daydream-land. It’s not even that he’s got some ruggedly adorable thing going on that makes my insides turn to jelly. Ever since we first ran into each other, the night Trisha sent him charging through the rain to my rescue, it’s just felt like we have ... unfinished business. I keep replaying the way he looked at me, like I was a giant ugly blobfish one minute, and then something he wanted to devour the next. How’s a girl supposed to just not think about that?
I pull into the gravel parking lot of Tate Construction’s headquarters, a small office building on the inland side of town that is home to largely blue collar businesses – a machine shop, an auto auction and scrap yard, and a small trucking company, to name a few. Tate Construction sits on a large lot, with a modern, inviting office building positioned close to the street, and a large warehouse occupying the back half. I look around in awe at the place, trying to wrap my head around Cam building it from the ground up. He’d always wanted to make his own way – by the looks of things, he’d done just that.
Stepping inside the office building, I’m greeted by a young r
edhead at the front desk. She flashes me a warm smile when she sees me, her teeth perfectly straight and a bright, brilliant white. She stands to greet me, revealing a tall, slender figure and hair that cascades in waves down her back. Her large, emerald eyes are rimmed with thick, dark lashes, and I have to admit, I’m actually a little frightened by how pretty she is. Is Cam hiring models to work for him or something? She reaches out her hand to shake mine, and I respond in kind, feeling a little self-conscious about how... delicate her hand feels.
“Hello, ma’am, my name is Kylie. How can I help you?”
Ma’am? I figure she can’t be more than 21, but still! I’m not that old.
“Hi, Kylie,” I say, more curtly than I intended, but oh well. “I’m here to see Cam, if he’s available?”
She cocks her head to the side, her strawberry waves fluttering over her shoulder. “I’m sorry?”
For some ungodly reason, I can feel myself beginning to sweat. Kylie is looking at me like I’m an alien with ten heads, and I can’t help but take it personally. Why does Cam need a secretary that looks like she could be strutting the runway in stilettos and angel wings?
“Cam,” I repeat, “is he here?”
“Sorry, ma’am, I’m not sure who you mean.”
I blink a few times, and then try, “I’m here to see Mr. Tate.”
“Oh, Mr. Tate,” Kylie says, as if I’d suddenly just started speaking a language she can understand. “Please take a seat, I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Kylie floats around to the other side of the desk and gestures to a plush leather chair, then glides lithely down a hallway and around a corner. I opt to stand, my nerves getting the better of me and my attitude still a little bent from the runway model receptionist. Why am I so nervous to see him? My stomach twists into knots as I think about the last conversation we had. He wants to catch up. Is that a good idea? I don’t have enough time to debate that with myself, however, because it’s only a moment before Kylie is strutting back down the hallway, leading Cam right into the reception area.
Cam clashes with the modern, professional décor of the office in his faded jeans and flannel shirt. His face, which was clean shaven a few days ago, is now scruffy and unkempt. In high school, Cam was a boy-next-door, prom king sort of cute, and years of football had given him an athletic build. This older, grown up version of Cam feels much more bad boy, deliciously rumpled with well-built muscles and a gaze with years more experience behind it. A gaze that makes me squirm when it meets my own.
His eyes widen at the sight of me, just for a split second, before narrowing into a scowl. I smile awkwardly, but he doesn’t return the gesture. I let out a long sigh. Guess we’re back to blobfish.
“Your visitor, Mr. Tate. A Mrs....?”
Kylie looks at me, and I don’t even care, I roll my eyes in plain sight of her.
“Miss Quinn,” I say. “Elizabeth Quinn.” Not that it matters or anything, I’m just still riled over the whole ma’am business.
“Right,” she says. “Please let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
I glower at her as she sashays behind the desk, then turn back to Cam, who is still scowling at me. There’s a tension in the air so dense, I can practically taste it.
“I didn’t expect to see you,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I stopped by Helen’s on Monday, but you were gone.”
“Yes,” I reply, wringing my hands in front of me. I hadn’t explicitly said I was going back to New York for a few days. Is that why he’s looking at me like a bad hairball? “I had some loose ends to tie up with work.”
“Hmm,” he grumbles, nodding his head. “I thought maybe you just left. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
I can feel my cheeks burning. “I had to work out some time off, to take care of the house and all.”
He tilts his head to the side, staring silently at me for a moment before the slightest smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, causing my stomach to flutter.
“So, you’re planning to stick around?”
“For a little while,” I say, and try not to melt when a full-blown smile spreads across his face. I can feel my palms beginning to sweat. Get a grip, girl. “And I could really use some help with that roof, if your team is still available.”
“I think we can find some time.”
My throat feels like a desert. “Great,” I say, steeling my nerves. “And as a thank you, I really would love to buy you a drink sometime.” Cam cocks his eyebrow, and I add, “if you still wanted to catch up, that is.”
His eyes twinkle mischievously. “I think I can find some time.” I gulp audibly, and he adds, “Ryan’s? Say around seven?”
Ryan’s Pub is a small, low key bar and restaurant in town with a nice view of the water. It’s usually less crowded than some of the more traditional bars, at least from what I remember.
“I’ll be there,” I say.
“Looking forward to it.” He says it with palpable intent that sends a shiver of anticipation through me.
Yes, I think to myself, this is an awfully bad idea.
Chapter Eight
Cameron
I DUCK INTO MY OFFICE and close the door behind me, pulling out my cell phone and dialing Grayson’s phone number. Mom wanted me to check up on him, but I think I need his advice more than he needs mine right now. Some big brother I am. At the end of the day, though, he’s the one dating the hot actress and I’m the one getting all tangled up by the girl who broke my heart.
It rings a few times, then goes to voicemail.
Shit.
I dial him again, growing impatient as it rings a few times. Finally, just as I think it’s about to go to voicemail again, a grumpy, groggy-sounding Grayson picks up on the other end.
“What do you want?”
“Wow, Gray, it’s great to talk to you, too.”
“It’s Goddamn nine in the morning here, in case you forgot there’s a three-hour time difference between Rocky Point and L.A.” he grumbles.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Us people with real jobs are usually up before nine on a weekday. Sorry to disturb your beauty sleep.”
“Shut up, I have a real job,” Grayson whines. “Now what do you want?”
“I... uh...”
“Spit it out, Cam.”
“Lizzie is back in town.”
A heavy silence hangs on Gray’s end of the line, and I wait, letting him react. When everything blew up between Lizzie and I, Gray had been a freshman in high school. She’d been such a big part of my life up until that point, such a big part of our family, that for Gray, it had been like losing a big sister. He’d taken it pretty hard, too.
His sullen voice finally croaks out a response on the other end of the line. “For good?”
“No,” I say. “Just while she gets her grandmother’s affairs in order. Helen Quinn was recently diagnosed with dementia, and Lizzie had to move her into a nursing home. She’s getting the house ready to sell, but there have been a lot of... well, it needs a lot of work.”
I’m met with another lengthy silence.
“Cam, don’t tell me you’re doing the repairs,” Grayson says, his tone stern but also warped with concern. I let out a long sigh, confirming for him what he probably already figured. “Jesus, Cam, are you some kind of masochist or something?”
“No, come on. It’s not like that,” I say, but I know as well as he does that it’s absolute, 100% bullshit.
“Right, you just happened to be the only handyman available? Look Cam, I don’t mean to be an asshole, but she ditched you like it was nothing. She didn’t even tell you she was going away to college until right before she left. She broke your heart, man.”
“Thanks Gray, I think I remember,” I say through gritted teeth. Why did I think it would be a good idea to run this by him, again?
“Okay, so what? You’re just going to let her use you until she leaves again?” he says. “If she’s selling the house, she is leaving again.”
For some reason, this makes me angry. She’s not using me, I offered to help. And I’m well aware that she’s going to leave again. She told me as much. But for some unknown reason, I can’t help but feel weirdly protective over her. Besides, it’s not like Gray knew the whole story of how we broke up, not really. He only knew the parts that angry, depressed me wanted to tell at the time. I know she didn’t want to break up. I’d just made it seem like it was her only option.
“It’s not like that. And honestly Gray, you were too young to get it back then. I basically told her to pick between me and college. If anything, I was the asshole,” I say. Even though he is silent, I can tell he’s contemplating what I’ve said.
“That’s one way to spin it, I guess,” he grunts.
“Mom thinks I should try to win her back,” I tell him, and he snorts a laugh.
“Of course she does. Mom watches way too many Hallmark movies.”
“Well, I’m meeting up with Lizzie tonight. At Ryan’s.”
“Look man, just be careful. I get it, you need some kind of closure or whatever. Just don’t think she won’t break your heart this time. She did it once, she’ll do it again.”
“I know.”
“And maybe she’ll surprise you, who knows,” Gray adds in a slightly more upbeat tone.
“Maybe.”
“Not trying to be a Debbie-downer, Cam. Just looking out for my big brother, is all.”
“Thanks, Gray,” I say. “Really, I appreciate it. I think that’s why I called, I just needed someone to give me a little dose of reality before I do this.”
“Anytime.”
“So, about that actress you’re dating,” I say, switching the subject because I’ve had about as much heartbreak talk as I can take for today.
“Oh man, is mom reading the tabloids again?” Gray asks, laughing.
“She is. Ariana Lopez? Really?”
“It’s not that serious,” Gray insists. “We’re coworkers. We just like to hang out and have some fun outside of work together, that’s it.”
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