Page 53 of The Reborn

“I’m serious. You are on another level.”

I wasn’t sure if she meant that as a compliment, but I decided I’d take it that way because I wasn’t about to apologize for my convictions. Not when I was right. I shrugged and took a big bite of steak.

Her phone rang from the counter, and she jumped up to answer it. “Hello?”

She listened for a few moments before her face broke into a huge smile. “Oh, that’s awesome, Cam! Congratulations! I’m so happy for you! How much did she weigh?” Another moment, then her eyes got big. “Holy shit. No wonder Gen was miserable!” She laughed and continued listening as her brother spoke a bit longer. “That is so awesome! Thank you for calling me. We’ll come up and see you guys in a day or two if Vanessa is feeling up to it.” She hummed her agreement, then hung up, her face dreamy and full of love as she faced me. “They had the baby.”

“I gathered.” I set down my fork and wiped my mouth. “Congratulations.”

“Nine pounds, four ounces.”

“Wow. Impressive.”

“I know.” She was grinning as she made her way across the kitchen and opened a cabinet. “My brother sounds so incredibly happy. I’m over the moon for him. For both of them.” She returned to the table with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“What’s this?” I asked as she poured.

She offered me one. “A toast. To my new niece. Camila Jasmine Creed.”

I hesitated for only a moment. I didn’t drink on the job, but I wasn’t going to let her celebrate this moment alone, not with that look in her eyes. Not with a new life in the world who had an aunt who loved her enough to toast her birth with the likes of me. I accepted the wine, a lump forming in my throat. “To Camila.”

Our glasses touched, then we lifted them to take a drink. The rich merlot was dark and earthy as it slid across my palate.

She smiled at me over the rim of her glass as she took a second sip, and something shifted in that moment. Something small, but I felt it. The tension eased that had been brewing between us like a turbulent summer storm, and the air was easier to breathe, as if we’d come to an unspoken truce in the name of new life.

Lighter now, I picked up my utensils and tucked back into my meal with gusto, dousing my mood with intermittent sips of wine, and she followed suit.

“So, the Navy...” she said. “My brother’s in the Air Force, but I’m sure you already know that.” At my nod, she smiled. “Did you like it? The Navy?”

“Loved it, actually. Thought it would be my career.”

“So, what happened?”

“I gave it up to try and save my marriage.” I slugged the last of my wine, surprised at how easy the words came. “I failed.”

“At least you had a marriage to try to save,” she said quietly. “That’s further than I got.”

Slowly, my eyes slid her way, shocked at the truths we’d both just let slip out. But the look of utter destruction on her face stopped me cold.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I don’t mean to sound insensitive. Divorce has got to be hard.”

“It was, but no need to be sorry. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Still. That’s terrible. And totally her loss.”

A tremble fluttered through my chest at her words. One that I hadn’t felt in ages. A tug of yearning that was unbidden and totally inappropriate. “You don’t know her.”

She twirled her nearly empty wineglass on the table, her gaze locked on mine. “I don’t have to.”

My pulse thrummed hot and heavy through my veins, fueled by alcohol and desire. I could deny it all day, shove it back and ignore the fucking obvious. But I wanted this woman with a fierceness that was shocking, even to me, and was becoming nearly impossible to restrain.

I jumped up, grabbing my plate and empty glass and striding to the sink, making entirely too much noise as I rinsed my things and put them in the dishwasher.

She was suddenly next to me, so I silently took her dishes and rinsed them, placing them next to mine, wondering how we’d gotten to this place. When had a job gotten to feel like... so much more?

“Tell me about her?”

I whipped my head around at her soft request and found nothing but gentle curiosity written on her face.