Page 114 of Not That Into You

And, admittedly, I was hesitant to ask. We agreed to keep things light and easy, and asking her to go to an important dinner might be too serious. It might spook her, and I’m hoping to lead her gradually into a serious relationship.

I want her at the dinner with me, but I’m not sure she’d agree to go, and I don’t want to set a precedent of her turning me down.

Interpreting my silence as assent, my father shakes his head. “You and Monica are from different worlds, and to succeed in our world, you need a likeminded partner.”

“I’ll probably be going solo.”

“That’s even worse. Many of the board members will be at the dinner. How do you think you’d fare with Vanessa at your side?”

“That’s not the point.”

“It’s exactly the point, which is why you won’t get the job.” He stands. “Pull out of the interview, Cameron.”

I grit my teeth as my father turns to leave. I want to throw something or punch the wall. Or yell. But contrary to what my father thinks, I’m not a child, and I will not throw a tantrum.

Even if it would be incredibly satisfying.

My phone rings, and I snarl inwardly, not recognizing the number. I have a few minutes until my 12:30 meeting, and I’d prefer to clear my head and be left alone. But, of course, the call could be important.

Taking a deep breath, I answer. “Hello?”

“Cameron?”

“Yes.”

“This is Vanessa.”

I hesitate. Why is she calling me? Before I can growl in frustration, my manners kick in. “Hi, Vanessa. How are you?”

“Fine. Look, I was hoping we could meet for coffee.”

“I’m about to run into a meeting.”

“I understand you’re busy. So am I. But this is important.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose before releasing my breath. “Fine.”

“Great. I’ll text you the time and place.”

“See you then.”

Chapter 31

Monica

“You’re quiet tonight.” I lean over and spear a potato off Cameron’s plate. “Everything okay?”

“Long day,” he says without looking up from his food.

I slowly chew while studying him. He’s been off all night. Rather than chatting about work or teasing me about armadillos, he was focused on cooking, shooing me away when I offered to help. Sensing his mood, I gave him space, but now I’m wondering if it might be better to call it a night. Something’s clearly bothering him, and just as clearly, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

Which is fine. I’m not his girlfriend, so it isn’t my place to push him to open up.

Even if I’d really like to know what’s bothering him.

Sighing inwardly, I get up to clear my plate. “I have some work I probably should finish today if I’m going to meet a deadline. I think I might head home and take care of it.”

His head whips up. “You’re leaving?”

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