Page 10 of Things We Tell Ourselves

“And two, it’s his job to protect us. There are cameras all over this place, so he knew exactly what was happening. I’m sure he got a good laugh over it.”

“Great,” Camille groans quietly. She pictures Buck sitting in a small security room laughing at the screen, watching her sneak after Wade, carrying only a bat to defend the house. She looks up to see Wade staring at her just as appraisingly. She crosses her arms over her chest self-consciously. “So should I get a hotel room?”

Wade’s gaze drifts from her up to the ceiling, pursing his lips as he thinks it over. She looks to Leah.

“Of course not, dear. I have nine other bedrooms you can choose from.”

Wade exhales loudly, looking down at Camille. “You can stay in my apartment, with one stipulation.” He holds the bat up again. “No touching the priceless décor.”

Camille stares up at him, pursing her lips as if she was thinking it over a second. Small dimples form in his cheeks as he waits for her response.

“I agree to those terms, but to be fair, the way Delilah talked about how Wade kept everything so clean, I assumed that Wade was the name of the housekeeper.” She smiles at him, his dimples deepening.

“I’ll let it go this time as long as you don’t do it again,” he laughs.

He has a great laugh. The kind that makes her want to laugh along even without hearing the joke. He grips the bat in his hand, sliding the other into his front pocket. She realizes that he isn’t wearing a black shirt and pants like she’d thought in the guesthouse; they’re deep blue, nearly the same shade as the sofa in his apartment.

“Housekeeper,” he repeats, glancing at his mother, “that’s a first.”

Leah chuckles as she nods in agreement. “You have come a long way from when you used to stuff everything under your bed when you were little.”

“Alright,” he looks back at Camille. “You get the guesthouse. It won’t kill me to stay under the same roof as the lady who birthed me.”

Leah shakes her head in amusement.

“Sorry again for scaring you.” He sticks his hand out for her to shake.

She keeps one arm over her chest, taking his hand in hers. “Sorry for almost beating you with a bat.”

He holds her gaze, his smile turning sincere. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

Four

“Why would you attack the son of the company with a bat?” Evelyn barks into the phone.

Camille rubs her temple, regretting sharing that story. “I told you, I thought he was a robber or an assassin, I don’t know.”

“Then you run away. You don’t run after the guy. Where’s your sense of self-preservation? Not to mention if you actually would have hurt him.”

“It’s fine,” Camille assures her. “If anything, I think Leah was impressed by the initiative.”

“I hope you’re right,” Evelyn groans, the anger in her voice cooling. “We can’t afford another crummy deal. We need to get this ball rolling before we have to start paying my dad back for the loan.”

Evelyn really was the best friend anyone could hope for. When she came up with the plans for Oxygen Recycler, Evelyn didn’t hesitate to offer her help. It was Evelyn’s parents who gave them the funding, and it was Evelyn’s father’s connections that linked them up with a manufacturer who made her invention a reality.

After unbuttoning her pants, stepping out of them out on the bedroom floor, she collapses backwards on the bed. “Enough about me,” she sighs, stretching. “Did you find a decent replacement?”

“Sucked,” Evelyn says, the sound of a faucet drowning out her voice. “…only two called me back,” as she moves away from the water, her voice grows louder. “One was no longer looking for a job, and the second was a dude who sounded like he was smoking. Right after he agreed to come in tomorrow at nine for an interview, he asked if he had to pass a drug test and then proceeded to cough up a lung right in my ear.”

Camille rolls over, grabbing a pillow to prop herself up. “What do you think he was smoking?”

“Is it bad if I’m hoping it was pot?”

“Not at all. That’s what I’d put my money on, but why not cigarettes?” Camille says, glancing at the blinds. She should’ve left the windows open so she could see the sunrise in the morning.

“That didn’t even come to mind,” she yawns. “Guess I’m that worn out,” Evelyn says over the running water. “I’ll let you know tomorrow after he takes a drug test. Look, I’m tired of smelling like Mexican food.”

“So you aren’t coming in the morning,” Camille states, reading between the lines. If she didn’t sound so tired, she’d give her a hard time about leaving her high and dry again, pun intended. “Let me ask you something. Did you know that this was a weekend trip?”

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