Page 54 of Things We Tell Ourselves

It is a picturesque Sunday morning. Under Leah’s instruction, the company jet stays stocked with an assortment of essentials, including heather gray sweatpants and matching pullovers. The stewardess has the outfits waiting for them when they board. Camille looks over the sets. Wade brushes against her side to scoop up his sweats. She giggles, jerking away when he nibbles at her ear.

What’s left is a pair in Leah and Easton’s sizes with one extra set with long legs, assuming that they’re for Nancy. She tries on Leah’s set, finding them more her size. Wade plops down on the couch beside the folded sweatpants as she straightens the pullover over her waist.

“No worries,” Wade says, seeing her concern to be wearing Leah’s clothes. He grabs her waist, pulling her down beside him. “They keep backups where the luggage is stored. On long flights home, I change into mine regularly, and they always have another pair waiting for me the next time I fly.”

Camille snuggles into his side as he wraps his arm around her. “You don’t think your mother will be mad that we stayed the night?”

“Are you kidding? When she was leaving yesterday, even she was expecting to not be back last night. How could she be mad if we do?”

Camille isn’t going to list the ways Leah could be upset by what occurred last night. She waits, expecting him to say where Leah told him she would be going in such a rush, but he simply stares into her eyes. The heat between them rises when the stewardess taps on the wall to their right.

“Anyone need anything?” she calls, having ducked out of sight, allowing them to change clothes.

“You can come in,” Wade responds.

Camille sits up, not wanting to be half-lying on him. Wade gives her an amused smile as she puts a few inches between them as the stewardess walks in, nearly knocking Easton’s set of sweats on the ground.

“I’d like a coffee and my briefcase,” he tells the stewardess, who then turns to look at Camille.

“Same,” she echoes, trying to tell if the stewardess is judging her. “Coffee, that is.”

The stewardess dips her chin at them obediently and then disappears to the back of the jet.

Buck is waiting for them in the Rolls Royce when they land.

“How was the trip?” he asks, looking at them through the rearview mirror as the gate slowly opens for them to drive out of the airport.

Wade looks to Camille to answer, arching his eyebrow at her.

“You’re officially looking at a new Bloom and Bloom partner,” she smiles.

“Congratulations,” he says flatly, looking more bored than anything as he hits the gas.

“Our lawyers will go over everything once Evelyn sits down to sign,” Wade says in a low voice. “Do you have your own lawyers to look over the contract?”

“Yeah,” she replies, not sure if she’s lying to him. She’d been to a lawyer’s office with Evelyn when they drew up the contract for their company, giving each of them fifty percent ownership, but she’d been under the impression that the man was Evelyn’s father’s lawyer and not ‘theirs’ per se.

“Good. Always have your people rack through the fine print. Contracts can be a nightmare depending on what’s put in them.” He says it with a bitterness that makes her think that he’s been burned by contracts before.

“Surely you haven’t had to deal with too many of those since you’re the one writing them up.”

He grins at her, the bitterness leaving his voice. “Thankfully, I don’t have to write any of them, but you’d be surprised what people want me to sign or what people are willing to sign.”

She places a hand a few inches above the bend in his knee, rubbing her thumb against the soft sweatpants covering his outer thigh. “Is this one of those contracts?”

“No,” he says, the warmth between them growing as they look into each other’s eyes. He lowers his mouth to her ear. “But I can add any amendment to the terms you’d like.” With that, he gives her cheek a soft kiss.

Flashes from last night bubble to the surface. Heat rises to her cheeks. She checks to make sure Buck isn’t watching them. He isn’t. She shakes her head at the offer, wishing that the car had a partition so they could talk privately, not that talking was on her mind.

Camille should have put it together in her head why Buck was picking them up in the Rolls Royce and not the Audi. She would have at least been more prepared for when they arrived back at the sprawling Los Angeles compound. She certainly wouldn’t have walked into the main house hand in hand with Wade, but she had. No sooner had they entered the threshold of the front door, Leah appeared, her leg resting on her scooter.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” she says, spinning around to face them.

Camille pulls her hand free from Wade’s as if it were on fire. A knowledgeable grin stretches over Leah’s face looking them over.

“I was starting to worry that there had been an accident.” Leah’s brows pinch together, looking Camille over. “Is that my pair of comfy clothes?”

Wade’s confident, calm demeanor gives nothing away. “We were both tired by the time we left The Hive, so we stayed the night.”

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