Page 51 of Things We Tell Ourselves

“Very well.” He ducks out of the room.

Walking out, it’s later than she realized. The restaurant is buzzing again, with a fresh round of occupants filling the tables. Pulling on her blazer as she heads out of the wine room, she feels tipsier than before, the last margarita doing its job. Thankfully, she’s steady-footed enough that she isn’t self-conscious about walking out of the room ahead of Wade, worried she might stumble over her own feet.

The hostess is chatting with one of the servers at the front of the restaurant. She sees them walking across the restaurant and hurries to the elevators. She’s already pressed the button calling the elevator by the time they get to her.

“Have a good evening,” she smiles.

“You too,” she says, allowing Wade to walk up beside her.

She loops her arm around his with his hands in his front pockets. He feels so warm. He gives the hostess a nod as they step into the elevator. Camille leans in ever so slightly as the doors shut, leaving her staring at their reflection in the metal elevator doors standing arm in arm. Wade glances down at her.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good,” she hums, turning her head to look up at him.

His eyes are hard, worried perhaps. Maybe he’s thinking she regrets their kiss.

She smiles sweetly. “I couldn’t have asked for a better…date.”

Is she overstepping by calling it that? Worry creeps in as the thought settles over her that maybe it’s him who’s regretting their kiss.

“It’s the best date I’ve had in a long time,” he murmurs in a low voice, dropping his head closer to hers.

Without a thought, her feet lift her up on her toes. Her mouth finds his.

The elevator dings, the door sliding open, but neither of them notices. As the door shuts, someone stops it, and a man clears his throat. Wade and Camille separate to see Benny holding the door open. He looks at Wade as Camille raises her hand to cover her red cheeks.

“Ready for your car, sir?”

“We are,” Wade replies, stepping to catch the door as the man turns from the elevator. Wade glances back at her.

“Should we be embarrassed?” she whispers, lowering her hand from her cheek.

Wade narrows his eyes as she walks past him. “I’m sure he’s seen worse.”

Benny’s already disappeared out the door leading to the garage. He’s still looking at her as he lets go of the door as if daring her to kiss him again; she takes a deep breath, wondering which door they’re supposed to exit. He isn’t shy, walking straight up to her and wrapping his hands around her, cupping the small of her back. She gazes up at him, expecting him to kiss her, but he keeps his head tall, staring down at her, his eyes lost in hers.

“My place isn’t far from here…” he begins, “if you’re too tired, I can give the flight crew the night off while we sleep at my place. We can fly back first thing in the morning.”

She pulls the side of her mouth back, giving him the same one-sided grin he’s so often giving her. “Is the bed comfortable in your guest room?”

His smile matches hers. “It’s a bit smaller than the bed in the master, but I haven’t heard any complaints.”

She bites her tongue, wanting to ask him how many people he’s had over to his place. She pushes her petty jealousy away. She’s the one in his arms, no one else.

The door to the garage opens. The homeless man leans out. “Your car is waiting.”

“Thanks, Benny,” Wade calls, letting go of Camille’s waist.

He holds the door open to the garage as Wade takes Camille by the hand, walking her out the door. Her hand in his feels surprisingly intimate. Waving the chauffeur off, Wade opens the back door of the car for her, and she slides across the backseat. Their driver buckles his seatbelt as Wade shuts the door.

“Where to, sir?”

Wade takes his phone out of his pocket, turning to Camille. “It’s your call.”

He leans in, inches from her face. She can smell him, a mix of the wonderful smells from the restaurant and that masculine smell that she can’t quite put her finger on. Is it cologne, or is it him?

“I text the pilot,” he says in a low rasp, “or—”

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