Page 8 of Not That Into You

“Cameron. Yes or no?”

I’m going to hell. “Yes.”

“Then you’ll bring her to the Hamptons next weekend.”

Oh, no. No, no, no. How did I not see that coming? “Mother, we’re still new. I’m not sure she can make it.”

“I thought you said you were serious.” She raises her brows. “If not, Vanessa can keep you company.”

“But...”

“If this relationship with Monica is as serious as you claim, she won’t want to miss such an important family event. Right?”

My mother’s no fool. “Right.”

“Excellent. See you both next Friday. No later than three.”

Chapter 4

Monica

I’m just one person away from the cashier and my first hit of caffeine for the day when the woman in front of me asks about the ingredients in the breakfast sandwich. I stifle a groan.

By the time the woman’s placed her order, my cell phone pings with a text message. I step up to the cashier, order an Americano, and then pull out my phone.

Hayley: Cameron asked where you usually work in the mornings.

Frowning, I pull out my credit card to pay for my coffee while wondering why Cameron would want to know my whereabouts. Thankfully, Hayley’s well aware of my aversion to her best friend, so I’m sure she claimed ignorance.

Hayley: I told him you go to Java Joe’s on 47th.

Judas! How could she? I thought she was my friend! At least she’s given me a heads up so I can grab my things and go. The last thing I need this morning is Cameron-induced indigestion.

I snatch my receipt, turn around, and bump into a hard body.

“Oof. Sorry.” I look up. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Cameron smirks. “Started drinking a little early, eh?”

“What the hell?” I blink up at him. “Is your demon skill teleportation? How did you get here so quickly?”

He opens his mouth to say something, closes it, and then opens it again. “Hi, Monica.”

My brow furrows as I squint at him. I can count on one finger the number of times Cameron has greeted me politely, and that was when we first met. It quickly went downhill from there.

“Is the sky falling?”

He glances out the window. “Doesn’t appear to be.”

“Are your devil-spawn brethren walking the earth?”

He lifts a brow.

“Is it the end of days?”

He sighs. “No.” He tips his head toward an empty table. “Can we talk?”

I cross my arms and search his face.

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