Page 86 of Not That Into You

He glances at me. “Yeah.” Frowning, he looks straight ahead. “Seems stupid now.”

“No, I get it.”

He gives me a soft smile. “I know you do.”

“So, how did you end up at a competitor?”

“In college, I wanted to major in marketing. I’ve always enjoyed figuring out people and how to connect with them. But my father wouldn’t allow it. He wanted me to major in business and finance.”

That sounds pretty on-brand for his father. “Did you major in marketing anyway?”

“I wish I could say I did, that I stood up for myself, but I didn’t. I followed my father’s marching orders.”

“There must have been more to it than that.”

“Sure. We fought a lot about it. He threatened to cut me off and stop paying for school if I didn’t fall in line.” He frowns. “To be honest, the money wasn’t the issue. I would’ve found a way to pay for school myself, but...” He sighs. “My father told me I needed to grow up and take responsibility, as if following my interests was somehow irresponsible and the only way to show I was a serious adult was to follow in his and my siblings’ footsteps.”

Cameron shrugs. “Anyway, I double-majored in business and finance and minored in marketing. I was supposed to work for The Stanhope Group right out of college for a year or two and then go to business school. My father gave me a list of the entry-level job openings he thought were appropriate and told me to apply.”

He looks over at me. “There was no guarantee I would be offered a job, of course. He made that clear.” He rolls his eyes. “None of the approved jobs appealed, so I applied for a job in the marketing department. I got the job, but my father intervened and declined the offer on my behalf.”

“Seriously?”

Cameron’s mouth flattens. “Not that surprising, actually. I should’ve anticipated it.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, I was pissed, so I went to work for a competitor—in their marketing department—and got my MBA at night, which I paid for myself. After I completed the MBA and was still working for the competitor, my father deigned to tell me there was an opening in the marketing department at The Stanhope Group. I thought he’d finally recognized my value.”

He frowns before giving me a rueful expression. “I should’ve known better. I got the job and switched companies and then quickly realized he was just concerned about the optics of a Stanhope working for a competitor.”

Yikes. “And now you want to be the chief marketing officer?”

“Yes. I’d be good at it, and that’s not just my ego talking.”

And he’d finally be on the same level as his father and siblings. Though judging by their behavior this past weekend, I’m not sure that would be enough to change the way they treat him.

“I’m guessing your father isn’t exactly advocating for you to get the CMO job.”

Cameron snorts. “Of course not. He wouldn’t want to give the impression of favoritism.”

“Right. Because he clearly doesn’t play favorites.” Sarcasm laces my voice as I shake my head. “What do you have to do to get the job?”

“It really comes down to the interview, part of which is presenting a marketing strategy to the board.”

“Ah.”

My stomach clenches as I recall Vanessa’s pinched expression as she left the pickleball court. Maybe she pulled a muscle. Maybe she did have to go but wasn’t excited about her appointment. Maybe her hasty exit didn’t have anything to do with Cameron or me.

I can only hope Vanessa won’t let any dissatisfaction with me influence what she says to her mother about Cameron, if she says anything at all.

We finally reach Manhattan and slowly work our way through rush hour traffic until we arrive at my building. I take a deep breath as Cameron pulls up to the curb and puts the Jeep in park.

I should jump out and race up to my apartment, but I don’t move.

Cameron turns to me. Our eyes lock, and my heart skips a beat. This is it. This is where we go our separate ways and no longer have to pretend to be in a relationship.

This is good.

Something heavy weighs on my chest, making it hard to breathe. My lips part, and his eyes drop to my mouth as the air thickens with tension.

Swallowing, I try to calm my breathing. “We made it.”

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