Page 66 of Cold Feet
"Mmm-hmm," Aunt Margaret teased, "Look who's blushing like a teenager talking about her first crush..."
My hand flew to my cheek, which did indeed feel warm. "It's just the sun," I protested.
"Darling," my mother said gently, "it's wonderful to see you so happy. Cam is clearly good for you – you just light up when he's around. And your dad likes him. Who knew that was even possible in our lifetimes?"
"Andhe can't take his eyes off of you," Aunt Margaret added with a wink. "That man looks at you like you hung the moon and stars."
"I don't know about that," I said, attempting to brush it off while ignoring the little thrill her words sent through me.
"He's so good with the kids. They were climbing all over him this morning like he was a jungle gym. No pressure, darling, and all in your own time – but he'll certainly make a wonderful father someday." My mother smiled affectionately and patted me on the leg. "And Oh! Those blue eyes!"
I couldn't tell if my mother was just suddenly overwhelmed by the thought of Cam's striking blue eyes or already imagining her future grandchildren. And endorphins be damned, I couldn't stop myself from swooning a little when I recalled Cam hamming it up with the kids this weekend, "I think so too."
"Look, she's blushing again," teased Aunt Margaret.
"Connection like that isn't something you can fake," Nana pronounced with the confidence of one who had consulted the cosmos and found them in agreement. "I saw it in his aura the moment you two walked in. Blue with purple flecks. Very rare. Very powerful bond."
"Purple means passion and spiritual awakening," Aunt Margaret supplied helpfully.
"I thought it meant royalty," my mother chimed in.
"In crystal energy, it's transformation," Nana corrected them both with a dismissive wave. "And in Cam's aura, surrounding Lana, it means he's found his soul's match."
I nearly choked on my coffee. "Nana, please. Let's not get carried away with auras and soul matches. We're just... dating." Even I could hear how weak that sounded, given the giant sea-colored sapphire on my finger, glinting in the sun.
"The stars don't lie, dear," Nana said firmly, peering at me over her reading glasses. "I dug a little deeper into your charts again this morning while you were sleeping. Pluto is activating your seventh house: the house of partnerships. Major transformation is coming. By the next full moon, everything will be different."
"Different how?" I asked, unable to stop myself. If I could have rolled my own eyes at myself right that moment, I would have.What was happening to me? Looking for horoscope confirmation that Cam and I have a future? Am I completely out of my lust-addled mind?
Nana's eyes took on that misty, faraway look that always preceded her most dramatic pronouncements. "The walls you've built will come down. What began as pretense will become truth. The heart cannot be fooled for long, dear one."
An uncomfortable silence fell as her words settled over us. I fidgeted with my mimosa flute, unsure how to respond. Did she know? Had she somehow intuited that our engagement was fake? Or was this just more of Nana's typical mystical generalizations that could apply to anyone?
"Well," my mother finally said brightly, "enough serious talk. Who wants another mimosa?"
"Me!" I said, draining my glass and grateful for the distraction.
As my mother poured, the conversation mercifully shifted to lighter topics: Aunt Margaret's cruise plans, my cousin Nora's daughter starting kindergarten, the outrageous price of the beachfront property down the shore that had just sold. I let their chatter wash over me, contributing enough to seem engaged while my mind continued to circle around Nana's words and my own confusing feelings.
By the time we'd finished the pitcher of mimosas and relocated to the kitchen for a late lunch, I was no closer to sorting out the tangle of emotions in my chest. One thing was becoming clear, though: somehow I'd ended up talking about Cam all morning like I'd completely fallen for him, not just for show. And that felt like the opening salvo of the biggest crisis I'd ever manage.
The men returned mid-afternoon with sunburned faces, the smell of fish and salt clinging to their clothes, and the boisterous, masculine energy that always accompanied a successful fishing trip. My father led the procession, proudly carrying a cooler that presumably contained their catch, with Drake, Zayne, and Cam following behind, each laden with gear.
"Ladies!" my father called as they trooped up to the deck where we'd relocated to enjoy the sea breeze. "Hope you're hungry for the freshest redfish you've ever tasted!"
"Did you save any fish for the rest of the Gulf?" my mother asked dryly, eyeing the catch.
"Wait till you see what Cam caught," Drake said, clapping Cam on the shoulder with obvious respect. "Biggest one of the day. Dad's still salty about it."
"Beginner's luck," my father grumbled, though the pride in his voice belied his words. "Though I'll admit, the boy's got a natural feel for when to set the hook."
Cam looked like a different person than the polished NHL star the public knew. His face was slightly sunburned across the nose and cheeks, his hair tousled by the sea breeze, and his t-shirt bore the stains of a day spent hauling in fish. But his eyes were bright with excitement, and his smile – a real, unrehearsed grin – was infectious.
"How was it?" I asked, rising to help them with the gear.
"Incredible," Cam said, his enthusiasm genuine as he set down the tackle box. "Your dad knows all the best spots. I've never seen fish that size so close to shore."
"Tell her about the osprey," Drake prompted, grinning.
