For No Reason (The Camdyn Series Book 4)

by Christina Coryell

  You are a light, sweetie, and I can’t wait to see you shine. Praying for you, and cheering for you.

  Instantly recognizing Rosalie’s handwriting, I felt the familiar pinprick of tears as I partially crumpled the paper in my hand, pushing open the door. My laptop sat where I had left it before my visit with Jake, on the couch and waiting. Prepared to pack my final few items, I picked it up to ensure it was properly shut down, but the blinking cursor on the screen came to life at my touch. Staring at the blank page, I vaguely remembered hitting delete before Jake called. I had restored the words, though, I was sure of it.

  Ultimately, it didn’t matter what I thought I had done, or what I remembered doing. The simple fact was that the file labeled “Boring Conference Speech” was nothing but a blank slate at present, and my flight left in a little over an hour. Falling to the couch, I laughed as I looked at that crumpled ball of words in my hand, shaking my head in disbelief. I was certainly going to be useful as the keynote speaker without a speech, wasn’t I?

  Lex wasn’t happy when I phoned to tell him I missed my flight, but I assured him that I well remembered how to get to Louisville, and I would be there that evening. I might miss some of the comedian’s jokes, but I wasn’t really in a laughing mood anyway.

  He responded with something that sounded a bit like, “or so help me Camdyn I’ll…”

  Believe it or not, I didn’t ask him to elaborate.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It had been nearly six months since I’d made my previous trip to Louisville in search of Sybil Brantley and her family historical records. The thought of her puffing up in her doorway and refusing to believe I was C.W. Oliver rolled back across my mind, and I laughed into the space of my lonely car. It was followed by memories of big, greasy cheeseburgers with Cole’s firefighter friends, the agonized excitement of knowing I had to tell Cole I loved him, and the decision to stop hiding behind my pen name.

  As the miles traveled brought me ever closer to Nashville, and by default ever nearer to my husband, the urge to exit the highway and find him was tempting. In the back of my mind, though, all I could hear was Lex:

  Breach of contract.

  Breach of contract.

  The tires of my car finally hit the city limits of Louisville around nine o’clock that night. It was definitely too late to attend the conference, but I checked in via phone with Lex, who promptly cornered me in the hotel he had booked to make certain I didn’t escape. Once I assured him I had no inclination toward running, he seemed like he might relax a bit, right up until the point that he asked to read my presentation.

  “Oh, I like to keep things a surprise,” I bluffed. “Don’t you remember how it was on Almost Midnight with Jamie Price? I’m much better when other people don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  Thankfully, that appeased him.

  Laurel, on the other hand…

  When Laurel got her tentacles on me, I thought she was going to rip me apart. That woman had been nothing but a friend to me since the moment I met her, but she was not in a celebratory mood. She seemed to have been convinced that I was going to flake out (which would have been a possibility had it not been for Lex and his sense of propriety – or more likely dollars and cents).

  I should have been there early that day for the meet and greet, she told me. Eve Morgan wanted to meet me, and so did the musician. Unfortunately, I had been living in my own little bubble for so long that I had no idea that Eve Morgan was the Friday night headliner, let alone who she was. Bestselling women’s devotional author, Laurel told me. She was well-respected all over the country, and the high and mighty Camdyn Taylor couldn’t even be bothered to show up and meet her.

  It probably would have felt pretty spectacular to defend myself in that moment, but instead I just stood there as she proceeded to berate me like a child. There were press people there, she continued. Reporters were there specifically looking for me, and she had to tell them that I would be on the premises soon - assure people that their tickets wouldn’t be useless.

  “Nobody said there would be reporters,” I blurted.

  “Of course there will be reporters!” she complained, her wide-set eyes flaming. “This is not some dog and pony show, Camdyn. This is a proper production with advertising and speakers who show up before their speaking time.”

  Stunned, I began to back away, but something about her attitude lit a small fire inside.

  “No reporters,” I ordered. “Do you hear me, Lex? No reporters!”

  Stalking to my room, I closed myself inside and leaned my back against the door, half expecting someone to pound on it and demand my presence. To my relief, though, a sweet silence settled over the space, and I breathed a little easier.

  You awake? I texted Cole, and it made my heart so happy to feel the buzzing against my fingers mere seconds later.

  “Do you know how hard it was to drive past you today?” I breathed, plopping down on the bed.

  “What? I thought you were catching a flight.”

  “I was going to,” I began, tossing my shoes on the floor. “Things happened.”

  “Did Jake call you today?” Hesitation must have answered the question, because I heard him sigh over the phone. “He promised me he wouldn’t.”

  “Don’t be hard on him,” I implored, drawing my legs up underneath me. “He’s gone, and you know I would never…”

  “You don’t have to say it,” he interrupted. “Baby, will you just do me one favor?”

  “Anything,” I said, smiling to myself.

  “Will you open the door? I feel like an idiot out here talking to myself.”

  The phone slid out of my hand in my rush to fling myself off the bed, and I had to pull at the lock three times before I managed to get it unfastened. As soon as I had it unbolted, though, I threw it open and trained my eyes on the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. Laughter bubbled up in my chest as I pulled him against me, afraid to release him on the chance he might disappear again.

  “Are you real? Please tell me you’re real.”

  “Shhh,” he insisted, pulling me toward the room. “You’re causing a scene.”

  “As though I care! I couldn’t be happier right now if a rainbow shot out of my ear and a little leprechaun typed up that speech for me.”

  “A leprechaun, huh?” He pulled the door closed behind him.

  “Yes, a little one with a green hat, with a huge pot of gold, of course.”

  His eyes looked directly into me, causing a fire in the hollow of my stomach that began to spread upwards. Trailing the tips of his fingers across my cheek, he stopped to cradle my face, placing his forehead against mine.

  “I’m so sorry, Camdyn,” he offered sadly. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  Pressing my mouth to his, I drank him in like I was dying of thirst, clinging to him and trying again and again to pull him closer, even though not a single inch of space separated us. With a slight laugh, he shoved me back slightly.

  “Just a minute,” he groaned. “I have to say this to you, please.” Drawing him toward me once again, I placed my hand near the base of his neck and pulled his head down until his lips met mine. My mouth felt the smile spreading across his face, and a sigh escaped my throat as he relaxed against me.

  “I can’t breathe,” he complained playfully.

  “I haven’t been able to breathe for two weeks,” I countered, lacing my fingers together behind his neck.

  “Please, sweetheart, you have to let me tell you how sorry I am,” he begged. “It’s eating me alive.”

  “Can’t you do that after you kiss me?” I grinned as I gazed up into his chocolate brown eyes, and he placed his forehead against mine again.

  “I could, but it might be delayed.” That stunning smile I had grown to love was back in full force, and I tried to slow the pounding of my heart. “I’m talking hours, easily. Maybe days.”

  “Well, you’re in luck,” I stated, letting my fingers meander to the back of his ha
ir. “As it turns out, I have hours. Several of them, in fact, and nothing on my agenda but you.”

  -§-

  To say that I had forgotten what it felt like to be in Cole’s arms would have been a lie, but the sheer happiness I felt at being in that position after days of fear and sorrow was a soaring feeling that I hadn’t known in the past month. It was almost enough to forget the fact that I had obligations - bestselling motivators to meet, publishers to appease, a conference director to avoid at all costs, and worst of all – a lengthy presentation to prepare.

  Cole watched as I struggled before my open laptop to find a usable paragraph, or sentence, or even idea, but my creativity was completely shriveled up at the moment. No amount of pep talking or complimenting from my husband could force a single word to hit the page, and even though I managed to hide it outwardly, panic began to set in.

  When we headed over to the church where the conference was being held, I leaned my cheek against the car window and watched the passing cars, wondering if the passersby might be heading toward the same destination and would witness my impending doom. Somehow I managed to tuck my panic safely inside, insisting to Cole that I was simply trying to think. When we rolled up the drive at our final location, though, my level of dread rose to heights I hadn’t previously experienced.

  “That’s not a church,” I blurted, sitting forward in my seat, straining against my seatbelt at the view of a massive wall of glass. “That looks like a football stadium, or a fancy concert venue. That is not a place for conferences with motivational speakers and klutzy historical fiction writers. Peyton Manning belongs there. Bruce Springsteen. Bono.” My breath came out in short bursts, and I felt my voice rising to a hysterical level. “This is bigger than the place where I saw Michael Bublé that time. I can’t outdo Bublé. Cole, I am not Bublé.”

  “Thank goodness,” he stated simply. “That would have made last night really awkward.”

  “How can you joke at a time like this?” I twisted in my seat so quickly that the seatbelt locked and jerked against my shoulder, trapping me in that spot. Shoving myself back as far as I could, I attempted to pull it free, but couldn’t manage to succeed. Finally, I just unhooked it and flung it away from my chest.

  “You need to calm down,” he said, driving to the entrance that Lex had given him.

  “Oh my gosh, I think I’m going to be sick.”

  The car jerked to an abrupt halt, and he stared over at me across the console. “Trent Bauer morning show sick, or…”

  “Metaphorically sick, okay? I do think I might pass out though. My heart’s going to beat straight out of my chest.”

  “You are so adorable,” he stated, presenting me with a well-placed smirk.

  “And you’re very handsome,” I countered, “but that’s not going to work. Romantic teasing cannot serve as a substitute for well-placed fledgling panic. I’ve had nightmares that began like this. Weird ones, where I was wearing only my underwear and there was a giant monkey chasing me.”

  “That’s pretty weird,” he laughed.

  “Oh, you don’t know the half of it. He wanted me to play the bongos, but I couldn’t because no one could locate Paul Newman.”

  “What?!”

  “Never mind,” I sighed. “The point is, this is a disaster. How many people do you think will fit in there? Maybe it has a really gigantic gymnasium or something. Yeah, maybe that’s it. Or a giant daycare, or a three-story library.”

  -§-

  Ten thousand.

  How many people can sit in the sanctuary, I casually asked one of the first people I saw.

  Ten thousand.

  Ten. Thousand.

  My mouth went dry at those two words, and I felt Cole’s hand grab my elbow immediately, because he too feared that I was a goner. Truthfully, I had to fight the urge to sway on my feet. The idea of placating a few churchgoers with some humorous anecdotes about my book research had been frightening enough, but ten thousand?

  The uneasiness I felt was ramped up to a nearly unsustainable level when I was escorted to the main auditorium to take a look for myself. From the stage, the room looked like it had a million seats rather than thousands, and there were several large television screens overhead. If I managed to somehow come up with something worthwhile to say, and that was still a major “if” at the moment, every flick of my wrist or stray hair or awkward face I made was going to be broadcast in high definition to each single person in that room.

  “Can’t breathe,” I whispered, and Cole caught me halfway to plopping myself down on the steps that led away from the stage.

  “Whoa, what’s happening?” Lex asked from his position beside us, looking slightly worried.

  “She’s overwhelmed, just give her a minute,” Cole instructed. Lex couldn’t leave well enough alone, and he knelt directly in front of me.

  “How could you do this to me, Lex?” I wondered. “You’ve ruined me. You’ve ruined both of us.”

  “Just…calm down, Camdyn, you’re freaking me out here.”

  “Seriously, Lex? I’m freaking you out? Well, by all means, let me put you at ease so you can sit there and not give an accidentally deleted speech to ten thousand people.”

  “What did you say?” Now Lex was starting to panic too – I could see it all over his face.

  “Yep, I deleted my speech yesterday,” I repeated glumly. “Deleted my speech, missed my flight, drove all afternoon to get here…”

  “Please tell me you spent half the night writing it again.”

  Glancing up at Cole, I bit my lip. “I was sort of busy, you know, with…stuff.”

  “She’s lying to me,” Lex complained, gesturing at Cole. “Unless her pet name for you is Stuff.”

  “Do you want it to be, Lex?” Cole laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “No, I’m not sure that I do.”

  “Would you guys shut up?” I hissed. “We are in church, after all. It might feel like Rupp Arena, but can you try not to be crude?”

  “What the heck is Rupp Arena?” Lex wondered.

  “Kentucky Wildcats basketball,” Cole stated simply. “I can’t believe you knew that, babe. You are so…”

  “Ugh, do not even start that!” Lex planted himself on the step directly beneath me and placed his head in his hands. “What are you going to do, Camdyn?”

  “I thought I’d just get up there and do a song and dance number.”

  “Please tell me she’s joking, Cole,” Lex muttered. “I can’t force myself to turn around and look.”

  “She’s joking,” Cole confirmed.

  “You want the truth, Lex?” I asked, placing my hand on his shoulder. “This is what I’m going to do: First, I’m going to panic. If I manage to work myself up really good, I might vomit. In the bathroom, like a normal person, not in a potted plant. Then, I’m going to stare at my laptop for a couple of hours and try to will something to happen. When that doesn’t work, I’m going to pray for an ice storm to knock out the power.”

  “It’s October,” Lex moaned.

  “Hey, weirder things have happened.”

  “And if there is no ice storm?”

  Awkward silence followed Lex’s question, and I slumped over slightly as I wondered at the correct response.

  “If there’s no ice storm?” I finally began. “If there’s no ice storm, then I will write a completely mediocre account of my books and my research, and I will dull those people to tears, and no one will ever ask us to do one of these again. That would be a good thing, right?”

  A dry laugh escaped from Lex. “Camdyn, you are alternately my best client and my worst client. Sometimes you show up and I’m truly amazed by you, and then days like today, I want to jump off a bridge.”

  -§-

  Lex quarantined me to my “dressing room” with strict instructions that I was to do nothing but write my speech. No mingling, no eating, and especially no canoodling. To be honest, I didn’t put up much of a fight, because as we were walking down
the hallway to where the other people associated with the conference were waiting, we met a flood of reporters. Once Cole and Lex succeeded in removing me from the awkward situation, I had basically no desire to leave that little room.

  None.

  Until I had to pee.

  Had Lex been kind enough to allow my husband to remain in the room with me, I might have been able to send him out into the hall to scout the situation and locate a restroom rather than fumbling around the corridors with my hand partially in front of my face trying to avoid people. As it was, though, I just became the freak meandering through random strangers and mumbling about bathrooms, until I practically stumbled into one. Hurrying into a stall, I locked the door behind me and breathed a sigh of relief.

  Then, I heard someone cough.

  I had always had a love/hate relationship with public restrooms.

  Well, not really a love/hate relationship – more like a tolerate/hate relationship. I despised using them. Sometimes it was a necessity, and I accepted that fact with grace, but I was not one for joint bathroom experiences. In a noisy situation, like at a baseball game, I could manage to ignore the other people. In a quiet space, though, when I could hear the sound of a pin drop (or another person coughing), I was unbelievably uncomfortable.

  My only goal was to hurry along and remove myself from the situation as quickly as possible, especially since that other person was making zero noise after that suspicious cough, but as I reached down to the toilet paper dispenser, my heart stalled.

  Nothing.

  Zip.

  Nada.

  Zilch.

  Ugh, why me? Seriously, why me?

  “Um, excuse me?” I broke into the silence, blushing even in the privacy of my own stall. “I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s no toilet paper. Could you maybe…” I didn’t even bother to finish the question, because I figured it was self-explanatory.

  “Sorry, sugar, but I wouldn’t be over here air drying if I had any toilet paper myself.”