by Nella Tyler
“Okay, that’s fair, Cammie. He should have taken your loyalty and love into account. He should have known that big heart of yours would mean that you see everyone through rose-colored glasses. And that you, for the most part, power through the negativity that has been thrown at you.” Anna paused. “But I don’t think you should be mad at him for trying to tell the truth as he saw it. In a way, he had your back more than anyone.”
“How, exactly? By making my mother look bad? He should have known something like that would upset me. Yes, I complain about her, and I get tired sometimes of dealing with family issues. But that doesn’t mean I want to stop. It doesn’t mean you should take cheap shots at her or use her as a foil! Family always comes first – you do right by them – you forgive and forget.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but you’re wrong, Anna.”
She winced. “I’m sorry, too. I just think you shouldn’t be as upset at him as you are. He does care for you, doll,” Anna sighed. “I see it. The way he looks at you and the way you look at him…”
“Oh, please,” I said harshly.
“That is the truth, Cammie. You may be upset with him and rightly so, but you cannot deny how much he cares for you.” Anna’s eyes found mine, and I had to look away.
I was I no mood to admit that she might have been right when it came to how Kris felt about me.
Chapter 33
Kris
Putting the car into park, I swallowed hard and lifted a shaking hand to my jaw. I’d forgotten to shave. And I had not been this nervous in a long time. In fact, I couldn’t recall the last time I’d had ever jitters like this. Or how getting out of my car seemed like a production.
This was it, though. Make or break. Do or die.
I’d spent all weekend working on something to give to Cammie. It wasn’t just a peace-offering; no, it was so much more than that.
But I knew I’d have to beg her to come with me to see it. I didn’t want to use my persuasion skills to get an agreement, either. She had to do it because she wanted to.
Stiffly, I climbed out of the car and hurried across her front lawn. Everything was quiet and as it should be around ten a.m. on a sunny Monday morning.
So, why did I feel like the world was about to end?
My arm weighed about a thousand pounds as I lifted it to knock on her front door. The smile on my face felt painful and all wrong. Suddenly I wondered if I should have worn something nicer than jeans and an old t-shirt. I definitely should have shaved. Footsteps were coming down the hall.
Too late now.
Part of me wanted to bolt, but I forced myself to stay put. This was for Cammie.
Please, please just give me this one chance.
She opened the door and immediately recoiled. Anger leaped into her eyes, and she crossed her arms. “Kris,” she said finally. “What do you want? Why are you here?”
“Had a feeling you wouldn’t answer the phone,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Not that I could blame you. Had to go for the old standby and come in person.”
Cammie wasn’t having it. Her lips twisted and she looked away. “I think you should go.”
“Give me five minutes, please,” I said, trying not to sound too desperate.
“Two,” she retorted.
“First, I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I am so, so sorry. I thought the whole getting you fired from your job would be the low point in our relationship. But I do have a tendency to outdo myself.” Cammie still wasn’t looking at me, but I thought her face relaxed a fraction, as though she was trying not to smile. “You were right. You were so right, and I didn’t want to hear it. I was tired and impatient and absolutely a royal jackass. And I’m sorry.”
“Okay,” she said, shrugging. “I forgive you. But I still think you should go.”
“There’s one more thing,” I burst out, as her hand lifted towards the door.
“Of course there is,” Cammie muttered. “What Kris?”
“I want to show you something,” I said, and she gave me a funny look. “It’s not here – it’s at my house, well, my dad’s house. Which is now my house.” I was rambling. “Anyhow, if you could please come and see it, I think it will…” I struggled for the right words, “clear some things up,” I got out lamely.
“What is it?” she asked, her frown deepening.
“Ah,” I said. “That I cannot tell you. It’s a surprise. But it’s for you.”
“Kris,” she exuded a long sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe this was all too much too soon…”
“Cammie, please,” I said softly. “Please. Just this one thing. I mean, you can even take your own car if it will make you feel better, okay? You don’t have to drive with me.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, then she lifted one shoulder and nodded. “Fine. Let me get my purse.”
I watched her vanish down the hall and let out a huge sigh of relief.
There had been a moment there where I’d thought she’d say no.
Where I’d thought I’d lost her.
Suddenly I realized that’s why I’d been so afraid to get out of the car. I didn’t want to face a world without Cammie in it. You better not screw this up again, Boldin, I told myself.
Climbing out of my car, I looked over to see Cammie stepping out and gazing up my dad’s house. “This is where you grew up?”
“Part of the time,” I said, following her glance. It was a lovely, welcoming old house, not too big and not too small. Surrounded by fields and huge trees, the rest of the world was far away, with no other houses or a road in sight. An air of childhood magic lay over it.
Yet at the same time, it seemed lonely. As though it was also missing the kid-at-heart man who’d once dreamed up great films here.
For a moment, Cammie seemed to forget she was mad at me as she walked over, gazing around. She was wearing jean shorts, a tank top and a long-sleeved sweater that fell to her knees. Her hair was glossy, hanging in loose and heavy waves down her back, as though she’d gotten out of the shower only a little while ago. Only the paleness of her cheeks indicated any strain.
“Why would you sell this house, Kris?” she asked. “It’s gorgeous.”
“A mad desire to lock the past away,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets and tilting my head up to the sky. I’d spent what little free time I had in the last few weeks cleaning up the attic and making it into a home for myself.
When I was a kid, I’d always wanted to live up there. And since I had too much on my plate, I decided I’d live at my father’s for the time being.
“It’s a Boldin trait,” I continued when she didn’t respond. “We try to keep rushing forward so we don’t have to look back. But it comes at a price, you know? You forget the good stuff.”
When I looked back down, Cammie had averted her gaze. However, from the way her lower lip was poking out, I could tell it was only through sheer force of will she hadn’t commented on what I said or thrown her arms around me. Even in her anger, her first instinct was to reach out and comfort.
I kept those thoughts to myself as I led her inside and through the wilderness of the living room. The downstairs was a mess – I’d moved completely out of my loft, but now there was a chaos of packed and unpacked boxes everywhere.
“I thought you said you were living here,” Cammie said.
“It’s a process,” I commented as we headed upstairs.
“How come you didn’t mention any of this – before?” she asked, a little awkwardly.
I winced and glanced over my shoulder. “Would you believe me if I said it was because I didn’t want to bring up the whole Birmingham Realty fiasco? I was considering moving still, but then I had to move out of the loft, so I brought my stuff here. And then, like two weeks ago, I realized that selling this place, buying another, and moving again was too much on top of everything else. I needed to focus on work.” On you. And I failed with the latter.
We climbed the wide white-wooded stairs to the attic, and Cammie let out
a soft sound of surprise. My dad had always used the space as a studio, so it hadn’t been too hard to clean it up and make it a comfortable bedroom. Skylights let in bright sunshine, while the big windows were flung open to the breeze. Everything was tinted in colors of honey and blue skies.
A king-size bed dominated one far wall, heaped with blankets, while the other side had old easels, with paintings leaning against the walls. Beyond that, tucked into a corner alcove, I’d set up a desk and lugged up my dad’s favorite old wing chair.
Sitting Cammie down in the chair, I saw her looking around. There were questions in her eyes, but she wasn’t asking them, and it made my heart ache.
“First, I need to tell you something, Cammie. You make me question things,” I said slowly, pacing around in circles next to her. “I woke up Saturday, and I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.” Her posture was stiffening, and I smiled. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good thing. It made me reread my father’s notebook. And I found something in there I hadn’t before.” I nodded at the desk.
I’d placed the two pictures in a frame together, and Cammie’s eyes went wide. “Is this your mom? She’s so pretty.” She bit her lip. “How come you never talk about her?”
“Because my dad never did,” I replied. “It was too hard. And I followed his example to a T. But that picture and the story behind it, along with you Cammie – it helped me see the whole picture. I’d been left behind an important legacy and film to make. And you helped me find them.”
Cammie gave me a curious look, and the anger faded from her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Dad never wanted to produce a rags-to-riches story. He’d already done that and done it well. No, see, he’d been saving up his most poignant film idea for years. He wanted to make it with me. But now he’s gone.” I paused. “So it’s on me. I have to try to do right by him and my mom.”
“I’m not sure I understand, Kris,” she said slowly. “What does this have to do with me?”
I stood up and walked over. “I think it’s easier if I show you.” After waking up the computer, I brought up the footage I’d spent all weekend editing. It was rough and choppy, but I had a feeling it would get the message across much more clearly than any clumsy words.
Max had been indispensable, as well. I couldn’t have done it without him. He’d come up with a sound mix and smoothed out some of my more poorly edited sections. In the end, it wasn’t perfect, but I didn’t think Cammie would care.
I pressed play and the X Ambassadors song, one that always made me think of Cammie, began to play first. Max hadn’t agreed with it, but there was something about the rawness of that song that worked. And in cutting out the second set of lyrics, it became less sad and more romantic.
Hold…
Hold onto me.
At first, the screen was dark, and I thought I saw Cammie give me a sidelong look, but then it cut to old, grainy footage of Cammie sitting on her dad’s lap. She was reading a book out loud to her family, her three brothers clustered like ducklings on the floor in front of them.
Cause I’m a little unsteady
Little unsteady…
In the background, her mother leaned over and touched her father’s cheek. He grinned at her and leaned in for a quick, stolen kiss, all while Cammie continued to read.
Next, it cut through Cammie’s childhood in a blur, showing her winning spelling bees or helping her brothers with their homework or gardening with her Gramma.
If you love me, don’t let go…
Hold… Hold on… Hold onto me…
At that point, the music softened and faded away. It cut to an interview with Cammie’s mother, talking about how Cammie took on so much after her father died. Tears were in Mrs. Book’s eyes, but then the moment was interrupted by her Gramma butting in from the background, saying Cammie got her gumption from her.
Cammie’s mother laughs and then Cammie rushed in from off screen, hugging her. She presses her cheek against her mother's and looked directly at the camera, smiling sweetly.
From there, it cut to a series of moments with her family, interviews intercut with outtakes, where her family had been messing around and laughing.
Then it flashed back to a moment where Cammie was a pre-teen, sitting straight up at the kitchen, glasses perched on her nose and a calculator next to her.
“Gramma,” she announced, “we should have plenty for Christmas this year. You know I don’t need too much. Just new sneakers.”
“Oh, Cammie, you’re an angel. Thank you,” her Gramma replied.
At that moment, her Aunt Bethany entered the kitchen and frowned. “Ma, what are you doing? Is Cammie balancing your checkbook? She has homework!”
“I’m done with my homework, Auntie Bee,” Cammie responded as serenely as an adult. “And I don’t mind. This is an excellent skill to have, especially for a future businesswoman.”
From there, it cut to a clip of me and my parents in Switzerland. This part was faster and choppier, with me and Max digging up what clips would suffice for the moment. It gave a glimpse of my childhood and the love between my parents.
Another fade, as the music swelled and grew sweeter, as a pretty classical cello piece by Johann Sebastian Bach now played. I’d heard it on the car ride home after meeting Cammie, and ever since then, it had made me think of her. Played in G Major, it was delicate and fun, but with a strength running through it like a rush of sunlight. Just like my Cammie.
On the screen, a series of outtakes and unsteady camerawork was playing. They were short moments of me and Cammie together. The first was me walking up to Cammie and slinging an arm around her while she talked to someone else. Once that person walked away, I whispered something in her ear, and she elbowed me in the ribs.
From there, it cut to me and Cammie sitting on the ground, both of us frowning as we talked seriously. Next, it was me, waltzing with Cammie after shooting went late and we got a little too giddy. Following that was me talking a mile a minute to Cammie as she shoots daggers at the camera. Then I pick her up and start running away, and Cammie is laughing and shrieking.
Finally, it was a zoom-in on me, headphones around my neck, smiling at someone off camera. And the camera swings around to see Cammie helping someone pick something up, then straightening up and glancing over her shoulder, smiling back at me.
It froze on that image as the song played on, then ended. This was the third time I’d seen it, and I found my heart beating hard.
We’d turned it into a story about how love gave Cammie the strength to become what she was and how our stories had become linked.
But beyond that, it was also a love letter to her.
I’d moved a little behind Cammie while it played and now I saw her head bending forward. Her hand was trembling as she lifted it to her cheek and looked back at me. Tears were coursing down her cheeks, but she was radiant, smiling at me in a way she never had before.
In a rush of both relief and fear, I blurted out, “I know it is kind of a crazy idea Cammie, and I know that we haven’t known each other that long, but I know how I feel about you, and I want to seize onto this – it’s a once in a lifetime thing, you know and–”
She interrupted me by standing up, she looked like she was about to say something, but instead, she reached for me.
I reached for her as well.
We met somewhere in the middle, her lips pressing against mine.
This kiss was slow and steady. Neither of us were in any rush as we fit our arms around each other and let the minutes slip away. Cammie tasted as sweet as she always did, but I could also taste the saltiness of her tears, and when we broke apart, I brushed her cheeks.
“I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner,” I murmured.
Cammie slid her hands from my shoulders and down my arms. Then she took my hand, leading me away from the computer and towards the bed.
“Oh, hold on,” I fumbled for my phone, then queued up the Bluetooth speakers. “Made you a playlist. I hope you l
ike it. I was trying to–”
“Shh. And thank you.” She plucked the phone away from me, placing it on the bedside table. “Thank you for the playlist – and that film.” Her eyes were shining as she looked at me. “You know – you are the only person who could ever pull something like that off.”
“No. I couldn’t do it without you,” I said, cupping her cheeks. “If you haven’t realized yet, and I mean it did take me a while, far longer than it should have, but I am utterly, madly and forever in love with you Cammie Book.” Her hands found my wrists and squeezed. “I love you. I love you so much.”
“Kris, I love you, too.” She was struggling not to cry and then laughed. “I love you.”
I kissed her, slowly and surely. Heat was flaring through my veins, but another feeling, a sense of connection and comfort was filling me as well.
Sliding off her sweater, I then slipped my hands into her tank top and caressed the bare skin of lower back. Cammie was playing with the hem of my shirt and teasing her fingers across my hip bones. Pressure was starting to build in my pants, and I groaned.
Suddenly Cammie took a step back and broke off the kiss. “Wait.”
“Cammie, are you trying to kill me?” I winced as she tossed her hair and the pressure increased tenfold. With her swollen lips, bright eyes and flushed cheeks, she was delectable.
“Do you have to be anywhere today?” Her smile was curvy, and her eyes flashed with a diabolical light.
“No,” I said slowly. “And if I did, I wouldn’t go.”
She stepped forward and tugged on my shirt. “Good answer.”
I crushed her against me and kissed her again. It had been too long. My hands slipped down and fitted around her round bottom, fingers teasing the bottom of her shorts. She arched against me, rubbing against my hard-on and I broke away with a growl.
Grabbing her shoulders, I walked her backward and pushed her against the wall. Then I began kissing her while fumbling with the button on her shorts, and Cammie laughed, breaking apart. She began to dance her fingers along my jaw and shoulders, following with dainty kisses and distracting me.