Page 16 of Things We Tell Ourselves

Leah lifts her hurt leg onto the couch. “I’m not spending a dime over five thousand. Those contractors can suck it.” Delilah reappears in the hallway, totting the scooter.

Wade catches Camille giving her omelet a longing stare. “You ready to go eat? I know I am.” He cuts his eyes over at his mother, but she doesn’t notice him.

She follows him down the hallway overlooking the backyard, feeling the heat from the morning sun through the glass.

“Is there an issue with company spies in the medical supply field I should know about?” she asks.

Wade shakes his head.

“No more than any other competitive industry. Mom had a contract stolen out from under the company once. It had to do with a couple of guys who were working their way up at Bloom and Bloom. She mentioned it at a dinner party. These two brothers who were working their way up in Bloom and Bloom quit the next day, and not twenty-four hours later, the other people pulled out of the contract. Some smaller company got them and low and behold, she learned that those two guys were working for them too. It’s why everyone signs NDAs now.”

A creeping sensation settles over her. It couldn’t be, could it? She glances down the hall keeping her voice light. “It wasn’t Lichtenstein, was it?”

“I’m not following you,” Wade says, glancing at her.

“The name of the brothers, was their last name Lichtenstein?”

He slows as they get to the end of the hall. “I couldn’t tell you for sure. It was years ago.”

She doesn’t press him any farther. What are the odds that the guys he’s talking about are the same ones who she thought were going to give her company its big break? Wade stops, causing Camille to do the same.

“Oh, no,” she voices quickly as he steps to the side so that she can go up the stairs first. “Your house, you lead the way.”

“Don’t let my mother hear you say that,” he grumbles, taking the steps two at a time.

She stares up at him as he goes. This is precisely the view she didn’t want him to have of her going up the stairs. The thought of her backside being in his face makes her cringe, but it’s hard to take her eyes off of him. For a brief moment, she contemplates giving him a compliment. Maybe it will lead to them getting a better deal. How do you tell a guy his butt looks great without sounding like a creep? You don’t, she answers herself.

Camille looks around as the second floor opens up ahead of them. Wade is at the top of the stairs.

“What’s so funny?”

She hadn’t realized that she was smiling at herself until she looks up to see him staring down at her. “Nothing,” she chuckles lightly, “I was wondering if you show-off taking two steps at a time with everyone or if it was just me.”

Wade smiles. “I’m not a show-off, I assure you. It’s a habit, is all. I’ll go down the stairs one at a time with you when we’re done.”

He turns from the stairs as she walks out onto the second floor. She almost regrets saying anything if it means he won’t be taking the stairs as he just did, not that watching him go down the stairs will be as nice as if she was watching him go up.

It’s no surprise that the second floor is just as lovely as the ground floor, keeping with the soft neutral walls. Her attention goes directly to a photo of a youthful Wade, shirtless with his arm slung around an equally attractive, shorter, sandy blond boy, who is also shirtless. Camille follows him out of the corridor and through a balcony door that opens up to a spacious second-floor terrace. She wonders how she didn’t notice it when she came in last night. In the middle is a table set with a plate of fresh fruit, three glasses, a jug of ice water, and a jug of tea.

But it’s the view that demands appreciation. The view of Los Angeles in the morning sun is almost as lovely as its twinkling lights at night.

“Are you still going to tell me that you aren’t showing off?” she asks, staring pointedly at the view.

“Oh, this is definitely showing off, but it’s my mother’s, not mine.” He pulls out the chair facing the view of L.A. for Camille to have a seat, walking around to take the seat next to hers. “I’ll have to remember that you like a good view, though.”

She takes her seat, smiling at him, not sure how to respond. She sets her sights on the jug of tea. “Is this sweet or unsweet?”

“You’re from the south. Of course it’s sweet tea.”

She pours herself a glass. Feeling his eyes on her, she waits a second before taking a drink. In no way would she call herself a fanatic when it comes to how she prefers her tea, but she knows that her face will surely give it away if it isn’t up to par. She takes a bite of her omelet, and it does not disappoint. Her second bite is larger, giving her time to sit back in her chair to enjoy it.

“My mom would love to see your face right now. It’s the best compliment you could give her.”

Camille swallows, sitting up. “This is better than I imagined.” She takes a drink of tea while Wade is busy pouring himself a glass of water. Thankfully, it isn’t too sweet, or does it have that tart aftertaste some tend to have.

“She’s spoiled us with good food, that’s for sure.” Wade takes a gulp of water. “Even when the chefs aren’t around, my mother saw to it that we ate well. Is your mother much of a cook?”

Camille smiles warmly, finishing her bite. “Not that I remember. She passed when I was in middle school. Cancer.”

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