Page 35 of That Kiss

Maybe he just got busy and forgot, or maybe . . . my stomach drops at the thought . . . maybe this is his way of letting me know that whatever this was between us—a fling or a hookup—is over.

“Stop overthinking.” I try to talk myself out of spiraling down this rabbit hole that will only ruin my night, but I know it’s most likely useless. I grab the bottle of wine and pour myself a generous glass—that first crisp sip hitting my lips, followed by several others. I type out a quick message to Decker then stare at it.

Me: Hey, so sorry we couldn’t connect tonight, but it’s no big deal. I won’t be available the rest of the night, but maybe tomorrow? Let me know.

I wince at my own text after reading it. My attempt to sound aloof and nonchalant just proves to be sad and pathetic.

“Why am I apologizing? I’m not the one who blew me off.”

I erase it and try again several more times before giving up entirely. I remind myself that ranch life is unpredictable, and besides, we aren’t a couple, so if life got in the way, I can’t really be mad at him, right? I should give him the benefit of the doubt.

Then that voice—the one that kept telling me over and over again that this would end in heartbreak . . . the one that told me a man with a reputation like his is only good for one thing, so I shouldn’t let my feelings get involved—begins a whispered chorus of I-told-you-sos as I walk upstairs to my bedroom.

Chapter 15

Decker

“You’re a coward.”

My phone glows with another missed call from Juniper, but I can’t bring myself to answer it. I’m not even man enough to text her and apologize for standing her up. Instead, I stay as late as I can justify at work.

The smell of enchiladas hits me before I even get out of my truck, and my stomach rumbles. I barely ate today, my knotted stomach making it impossible. I’m exhausted—ready to eat, take a shower, and climb into bed. But I know that won’t be the case.

“I hope you’re hungry.” Cami comes around the corner with a small grin on her face, her dark curls piled high on her head.

“Very.” I take a seat to remove my boots, offering a smile back, but we both know it’s forced. Something that once felt so natural between us is now awkward. It feels both depressing and relieving at the same time. She leans against the doorway, asking me about my day, like the last however many months didn’t happen. I offer clipped answers, unsure of how I’m supposed to be feeling or thinking in all of this.

“I hope it’s okay that I made dinner. It was actually done about two hours ago, but I’ve left it warming in the oven. They’re steak enchiladas with the salsa verde you always liked.”

“Thank you,” I stand up from the bench, “you don’t—you didn’t need to do that, Cami.”

“You know I love to cook,” she holds out her hand toward me, “especially for the people I care about.”

I stare into her eyes and they search mine desperately, like she’s looking for any shred of hope that what we had isn’t completely gone. I take her hand and walk into the kitchen, pulling out her chair before turning to take a seat. She dishes out the enchiladas in silence, my stomach growling again once I see the pool of melted cheese stretch and pull.

She takes a bite and moans around her fork, followed by a little giggle after she swallows the bite. “I have to confess that I always loved when you requested these. They’re so indulgent that I never make them just for myself.” I bring a forkful to my mouth and chew. My once-favorite dinner is now tasting bitter. “Justine gave me a secret tip to make the steak extra tender and moist.”

Camilla launches into another story, her voice beginning to fade as I picture Juniper looking through her fridge, planning out what to make us for dinner when she sent me the text earlier about it. I can see her giving up and sighing, slamming the fridge shut and opting for the frozen pizza stash her dad always keeps on hand in the deep freeze.

Then I see her sitting at the kitchen table—her smile falling, the pizza turning cold and congealed as she waits for me to show up or at least respond. My stomach rolls and I clench my jaw.

“You remember my cousin Justine? The one who only wanted two kids but ended up pregnant with twins when they tried for the second?” She reaches for her water and takes a drink before continuing on with her story.

“What are we doing?” I say suddenly, my fork clattering to the plate. “How is this . . . ?” I motion between us. “I just don’t understand, Camilla.” I’m not making sense. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to feel or act.”

“About us, you mean?” She places her fork down gently.

“There is no us.” It comes out harsher than I intended, my words making her jump. “Sorry, you know what I mean. We weren’t just taking some space or on a break; you rejected my marriage proposal. You ended things. And now you’re here and I just feel like you expect me to jump back in and feel the same way. I can’t act like I do feel that, Cami. I can’t act like everything is okay.”

“I understand,” she’s calm, “and I know that I ended it. I take full responsibility for that and for hurting you, but I am sorry. And I don’t expect you to jump back in. I don’t, I promise. I’m just,” she shakes her head and dabs at her eyes with her napkin, “I think I was hoping that if I showed up and acted like everything was normal and okay, all those feelings would come rushing back to you.” She looks up at me, her eyes filled with tears. “I realize now how ridiculous that sounds,” she laughs nervously, “ugh, sorry, I hate crying.”

“I’m sorry I snapped like that. I guess I wasn’t trying to see it from your point of view. From taking the risk to come here and be vulnerable like this.” My chest softens, the tightness easing just a touch. “I was just—hurt is the obvious word, but I think I was also shocked. I thought you’d at least be willing to try with me. I hadn’t even made a decision to move back here yet. I wouldn’t have made that decision without you, but you made it without me.” My tone is still rough, my frustration ready to boil over. Clearly, the anger and hurt I thought I’d left in Texas when I moved back here has followed me.

“I never stopped loving you.” Her words are just above a whisper. “Walking away from you was the biggest mistake of my life and I know, I know . . .” she hiccups, “I don’t deserve a second chance, because you’re right, I never even gave you a first one, but I’m asking for one now.”

“I’m here, though, Camilla. I’ve made my life here. I’ve made promises to my father and our company that require me to live here. I was possibly willing to stay in Texas to make you happy, but that’s not on the table anymore.”

“I know,” she darts her hand out to grab mine like she’s scared I’m going to run away. “That’s why I’m here—to prove to you how serious I am. I’m ready to move here to be with you, to marry you and have a family with you.”

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