Page 70 of Never the Bride
His words soften the hardness around my heart, and I find myself wanting to believe he’s being genuine, wanting to believe that there’s a man out there who’s good.
He scans my face, searching for something. If only I knew what. Then slowly—everso slowly—he leans closer, causing a wild rhythm to take over inside my chest. Oxygen suddenly feels optional. I pause breathing, anxiously awaiting his next move. Everything deflates when his lips miss mine, and he reaches past me, bending over to place his bowl on the top rack of the dishwasher.
I stand there, blinking.
Oh. My. Gosh.I thought Hess was going to kiss me.
Thankfully, I dodged that bullet. Crisis averted. Right?Right?!?
“You’ll turn off the lights when you’re done?” He steps around me, walking off.
More blinking, like my eyelids are the only thing on my body that knows how to work. “Yeah.”
“Goodnight.”
Hess leaves me standing alone in his kitchen, trying to process the swing of emotions that just happened inside me.
The most prevalent? Disappointment.
Camila
I drummy fingers on the table in front of me, replaying the almost kiss that wasn’t even close to a kiss between me and Hess. The escapade has lived rent-free in my head since it happened last week. Not because it was a stolen romantic moment, but because I let my guard down for one second, and I hate that I did that. Granted, it was one in the morning, so we can chalk my weakness up to being tired. Though, deep down, I know the truth.
I felt something.
Attraction, yes. Despite my best efforts, I’m always attracted to Hess.
But I also felt a flicker of something real.
The possibility that Hess truly wanted toknowme in a wholesome and pure way. A way that was different than all the men my mom paraded through my childhood.
Which, now that I think of it, sounds completely stupid. I’m embarrassed the thought momentarily resided in my mind.From now on, I’m back to my old self, to the woman who isn’t easily swayed by kind smiles and gentle words—or shirtless men. Those are probably all the same things that landed my mom in four different marriages.
There’s a knock on the conference room door before Richard Vanderveer pops his head inside. “You ready for this client?”
“Of course.” I stand, placing my palms on the table. I’ve never beenmoreready to remind myself why marriage and love are foolish notions. “I’ve been debriefed on Ms. Becker’s case.”
“Good. I shouldn’t have to remind you what’s at stake here. Monica Becker’s divorce settlement will be our firm’s biggest one of the year. The board is trusting her with you. Don’t let us down.”
I smile confidently. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“That’s what I like to hear. And if all goes as it should, you’ll be well on your way to partner.”
Translation: get a huge divorce settlement for Monica Becker, and the partnership is yours. Until then, they’ve been dangling the promotion over my head for the last month and a half, holding it just out of reach enough so I keep doing their bidding. But this should be the final test, and I’m confident I can ace it.
“Camila?” Marcy buzzes in over the speakerphone.
I push the button on the phone. “Yes?”
“Monica Becker is here for you.”
“Show her into the conference room, please.”
“You’re the closer,” Richard says just before he turns to go.
“I always am.” I straighten my skirt and pull my shoulders back, waiting for my client. She walks into the room, flicking her eyes to me. “Ms. Becker, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Camila Jiménez.” I gesture to the row of chairs in front of her. “Please, take a seat.”
“Call me Monica. With your help, I won’t be Ms. Becker for very much longer.”
