Page 108 of Never the Bride
Hess
We spend the last hours of sunlight driving home to Queen Creek with easy conversation carrying the two-hour drive. Back at the house, the night feels sweltering and hot, the kind of dry heat Arizona summers are known for, but that doesn’t stop us from laying out a blanket in the front yard to watch neighbors let off fireworks down the road. The show isn’t impressive, given how far away my neighbors are, but there are flares of light that scatter in the distance then fade to black again.
Camila steps barefoot across the blanket, her dark curls tied up into a bun. She lowers herself down with me, both of us stretching out on our backs, and for the first time all day, it’s just us. No family, no noise, no teasing. Just the booms of celebration down the road.
“Thanks for coming to Prescott with me.” I keep my eyes on the sky and stars above.
“I’m glad I came. It let me see another side of you.”
“Good or bad?”
“Definitely good.” Her smile turns to me. “You’re going to make a great dad someday.”
“I don’t know about that. Being the cool uncle is a lot different than being a great dad.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re perfectly built to be a husband and a dad.”
“What about you? Do you want kids?” It’s a question I’ve been avoiding asking because I’m afraid of the answer. But it’s a question Ineedto ask.
She glances up at the sky. “Being a mother is something I wrote off. In my line of work, the children are always the losers because of selfish adults. They end up being used as pawns or screwed up because they saw too much too young. So, I promised myself a few years ago that I wouldn’t have children. If you don’t believe in marriage, it’s difficult to hope for children.”
My heart tanks. I’m not stupid. From day one, Camila has been nothing but honest about where she stood on traditional topics like marriage and family. I knew our goals didn’t entirely align, but I wanted to believe she was open to them if she found the right guy. Now, I’m not so sure.
“But…” she adds, causing me to turn and look at her, “when I was little, I used to play house and dream about becoming a wife and mother. As I grew up, I talked myself out of those dreams, but seeing you and your family the last two days has reminded me of that little girl who wanted that.” Slowly, her head shifts, and she meets my gaze. “Maybe being happy as a wife and mother isn’t unattainable.”
“Maybe it’s not. Maybe you just need the right partner.”
We stare at each other, letting the silence speak for itself. Carefully, like I’m afraid to ruin the moment, I slip my fingers into hers. Her hand is smaller than mine, soft and warm, and when she curls her fingers around mine, it feels right.
I take a breath, the weight of what I’ve been holding in pressing on my chest. “Camila, I more than like you. I don’t wantto scare you off by saying too much, too soon. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t falling for you.”
Her eyes shine in the moonlight, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she shifts closer until her shoulder brushes mine. Slowly, she leans in and presses her lips to mine.
The kiss is soft, tender, unhurried. It isn’t about passion or hunger.
It’s about hope and letting go of fears.
About her choosing me in this moment and the idea of a life I could offer her, despite her deep-rooted reservations.
I cradle her cheek with my free hand, my thumb brushing the line of her jaw as her lips move against mine again, steady and sure. She tastes faintly sweet, like lemonade and watermelon, and I let myself sink into it, savoring every second of this strong, accomplished woman.
She kisses me again, lingering this time. I roll our bodies as we kiss so I’m leaning over her, careful and gentle, holding her like she’s the most precious thing to me. Her hand rests against my heart, and it feels too fast, too loud, like it’s trying to tell her everything I want to say but can’t sayyet.
Camila
Instead of ourmonthly dinner at Oregano’s, I invited my friends and their dates over to Hess’s house so they could get to know him. It was an easy invite. They were more than eager to meet my husband and see where I’ve been living the past four and a half months.
Everyone shows up with someone in tow. Carly with her serious boyfriend, Nate; Juliet with her fiancé, Vinny. Emma is here with some guy named Doug, who’s clueless that his date keeps stealing glances across the room at Vinny. And then there’s Blair, who came with a guy named Joel, whom she apparently met this afternoon. She shrugs when I raise a brow. “What? He was cute,” she says. Classic Blair.
The guys gravitate toward Hess and the corral, and the girls pull me into the kitchen like it’s an intervention.
Carly’s gaze is greedy as she grips my arm. “Okay, Hessisridiculously cute and charming in real life. He’s totally Yellowstoning all of us.”
Juliet frowns. “Except, I was expecting a cowboy. Where are his hat and boots?”
“I told you. He’s not always a cowboy. It’s very hit or miss.”
There’s a pout still on Juliet’s lips. “Well, I need to come back when he’s that version of himself.”
