Page 42 of Cold Feet
Cam moved closer, his arm brushing mine as he leaned on the railing beside me. "Hey," he said gently. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make this harder for you. I know your family means everything to you."
I looked up at him, surprised by the genuine contrition in his voice. The setting sun gilded his profile, turning his hair to burnished gold and softening the sharp angles of his face. He looked... different here, away from the rink and the cameras. More real somehow.
"Why does this come so easily to you?" The question tumbled out before I could stop it. "The whole... pretending thing. It's like you're not even acting."
Cam was quiet for a moment, his eyes on the horizon where the sky met the sea in a blaze of orange and pink. "Maybe because part of me isn't."
My heart stumbled over itself, but Cam continued before I could process what he was saying.
"I didn't have anything like this growing up," he said, gesturing toward the house, the dock, the entire scene. "No constant. We moved a lot, different apartments, different schools. Different step-parents."
Thevulnerability in his voice caught me off guard. Cam rarely talked about his childhood, and I'd only gleaned bits and pieces over the years.
"That must have been hard," I said softly.
He shrugged, his casual demeanor returning like a shield sliding into place. "It taught me to adapt. New situations, new people – I got really good at reading the room."
"Is that what you're doing now? Reading the room?"
His eyes found mine, steady and unexpectedly sincere. "With you? No. I'm just being me."
"Lana! Cam! Dinner's ready!"
The moment shattered like glass, and I stepped back, breaking the strange intimacy that had settled around us.
"We should go," I said, my voice sounding odd to my own ears.
Cam nodded, but as I turned to head back up the path, he caught my hand, his fingers warm against mine.
"Lana," he said, his voice low. "For what it's worth, I meant what I said earlier. About respecting honesty."
I looked up at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
"I'll try to give you more warning before I start improvising," he said with a small smile. "Scout's honor. For real this time."
Despite everything, I found myself smiling back. "Come on, fake fiancé. Let's go feed that bear you call a stomach."
His answering laugh was warm and genuine. As we walked back to the house hand in hand, for appearances, I told myself firmly, I couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted between us, something that had nothing to do with our carefully constructed charade and everything to do with the man beside me.
Dinner was a surprisingly relaxed affair. My mother had prepared her famous seafood feast: grilled snapper, garlic shrimp, crab cakes, and an array of fresh sides. The conversation flowed as easily as the wine my father kept pouring.
To my relief, wedding talk was kept to a minimum, though my mother did occasionally drop not-so-subtle hints about her preference for outdoor ceremonies and her collection of family heirloom tablecloths that would be "perfect for a rehearsal dinner."
What surprised me most was how naturally Cam fit into our family dynamic. He asked my father thoughtful questions about his coaching career, traded good-natured barbswith Zayne about their last practice scrimmage, and repeatedly complimented my mother's cooking with such genuine enthusiasm that she was practically glowing.
"So, Cam," my father said as we lingered over dessert. Key lime pie, another Decker family tradition. "Lana tells me you've got a big endorsement deal in the works."
I tensed slightly. This was dangerous territory.
"Potentially," Cam acknowledged with practiced casualness. "Nothing's finalized yet, but it's looking promising."
"Redline, right? They make good gear. My knee brace is Redline."
"That's the one," Cam confirmed. "They're expanding their hockey line, looking for a new face."
My father nodded thoughtfully. "Smart choice on their part. You've had a solid few seasons."
The casual compliment from Frank Decker – notoriously stingy with praise – was like receiving the hockey equivalent of a knighthood. I could spot it immediately by the slight widening of Cam's eyes that he recognized the significance.
