Page 28 of Until I Find You

“Clear.”

That’s all. Nothing follows.

If she had dared me, challenged me in any way, her clothes would be off in ten seconds flat, and I’d bury myself inside.

I almost wish she had.

No. Not almost.

6

CAMILLA

Jackand I have spoken less than ten sentences to one another today. After last night, I’m not even sure what I should say.

What do you say to the man that’s supposed to be your boss, your business partner, but is now your fake boyfriend who told you in very explicit terms not to call him “Daddy” in a way that very much made you want to call him “Daddy” even more?

Because ever since I called him Sir, it has been on my mind. Nonstop. The need to do it again. To take it a step further. To let go with him and just be me.

But I can’t. We can’t.

Keep it professional. Keep everything at a distance.

Until we can’t anymore.

Jack clears his throat as we ride the escalator down to baggage claim. “We should probably hold hands.”

My stomach drops, and I tip my head down to look at his nice leather shoes.

He shrugs. “Maybe if we make a strong impression that we’re actually in a relationship, we won’t have to keep touching each other.”

He says “touching each other” like it might kill him to touch me. Might kill me too, but probably not for the same reasons. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

Jack runs his tongue along his lower lip as he holds his hand out to me.

I hesitate for a second before touching my hand to his, holding it.

It’s awkward and strained, palms not fitting quite right together.

Not only am I nervous, I can tell he is too. If he would just relax a bit, maybe I could too, but I can’t because he won’t, so the whole hand-holding thing feels forced.

I mean, his warmth in my hand feels too nice, so I’m not sure this isn’t for the best. But it would be nice if one thing was easy about this situation.

“There they are,” Jack says coolly, nodding toward a family of four standing together by baggage claim. His frown is so deep.

I squeeze his hand. “You should probably smile.”

His eyes fleet to mine before he plasters on what has to be the fakest smile ever. “Better?”

I shake my head and fake a smile too, but mine is much more natural than his, I’m sure. “Much.”

The woman has tawny brown skin and warm eyes. I see so much of Jack in her, but I won’t tell him that because it will probably piss him off. However, the way she beams at us, I’m surprisedthis is the same woman who told her son she wouldn’t be able to see him until he said he was bringing his girlfriend.

The man beside her is tall, gangly, and white, and the kids, a boy and girl, look just as forced as we do, seeming irritated that they have to play welcoming committee.

I glance at Jack. Poor guy. He frustrates me to no end, but I can’t help but feel for him. This situation is less than ideal for everyone involved.

The second we step off the escalator, his mother rushes toward us. And she hugs me.Me. Before her own son.

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