Page 95 of Cold Feet
I stood in the kitchen as I waited for my Lyft, as my eye spotted something unusual on the kitchen island: a bag of cake flour, sugar, two types of vanilla, piping bags, lavender, and a stack of whimsical cupcake liners.
My ride approached, and I headed outside. As the Lyft pulled away from Cam's Davis Island home, I couldn't stop myself from grinning like a lunatic. Whatever came next, something fundamental had shifted between us. For once, I wasn't overthinking or second-guessing. I was simply letting myself feel the happiness bubbling through me.
And for the first time in ten years, I allowed myself to want Cam Murphy without reservation or fear.
At home, I rushed through my morning routine, showering away the delicious evidence of last night's activities and changing into a sleek magenta blazer and matching pencil skirt – my power suit for whatever emergency awaited. As I applied my makeup, covering the light mark Cam had left on my collarbone, I found myself humming, occasionally breaking into a full smile at the memory of his hands, his mouth, the way he'd looked at me as if I were the only woman in the world.
"You are in such big trouble, Decker," I murmured to my reflection, unable to wipe the smile from my face.
My phone chimed with a text from Coco:
COCO: DETAILS. NOW.
I laughed, typing back:
ME: I plead the fifth.
Her response was immediate:
COCO: Coward. Your car was still in the parking lot when I got to practice at 5:30 this morning, but your office was dark. I NEED DETAILS, WOMAN! Plus, your face in that Instagram clip says it all anyway. CALL ME LATER.
Instagram clip? I frowned, but had no time to investigate. Whatever social media drama was brewing would have to wait. I was already cutting it close for the meeting.
As I slipped on my heels, I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror. I looked composed, professional, but there was something different in my eyes, a softness I usually kept carefully hidden. I wondered if everyone would be able to tell what had happened just by looking at me. Coco certainly had. There was no hiding from that girl.
The thought didn't panic me like it would have a few weeks ago. Maybe it was time to stop hiding. Maybe what Cam and I had, whatever it was becoming, deserved to be real, publiclyandprivately.
I absently twisted the sapphire ring on my finger, watching how it caught the light. It was funny, it no longer felt like a prop. For once, the future seemed full of hopeful possibilities instead of carefully managed risks.
The Slashers' administrative offices were unusually quiet when I arrived, though I noticed several curious glances from staff members as I made my way through the corridors. A few offered knowing smiles or raised eyebrows, making me wonder if my attempt to look professional and unaffected was failing miserably.
Katie, my assistant, was already at her desk, eyebrows rising with obvious interest as I approached. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in my appearance – perhaps noting the extra care I'd taken with my makeup or the lingering flush on my cheeks.
"Good morning," I said, trying to sound normal, professional. "Any idea what this emergency meeting is about?"
"No idea," she replied, handing me a stack of message slips. "But social media is blowing up. Have you seen it?"
"Seen what?" Iasked, distracted by the messages. Three from ESPN, two from Sports Illustrated, and at least a dozen from various other media outlets, all wanting comments or interviews with Cam.
Katie looked surprised. "The clip from after last night's game? It's everywhere." She pulled out her phone, tapping rapidly before handing it to me. "Here."
It was a TMZ Sports post, its headline screaming:
CAM "THE HITMAN" MURPHY DECLARES HIS LOVE: "IT'S ALWAYS BEEN HER"
Below was a video clip that appeared to have been taken from behind Cam and Zayne as they stood on the nearly empty ice after the post-game interviews. The camera angle suggested it was shot by someone on the maintenance crew, capturing what the subjects clearly thought was a private conversation.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I pressed play.
Zayne's face was serious, intense in that particular way I recognized as full protective-brother mode. Though we couldn't hear their exact words over the ambient arena noise, the body language told the story clearly. Zayne pointed at Cam's chest, saying something with clear emotional intensity.
And then Cam – shoulders squared, stance solid – was speaking, his passion evident even from the back angle. The clip had been enhanced with caption overlays:
"I didn't pursue her 10 years ago when we were seniors and she was a junior at BU because of my respect for you and because I love you, man, we’re brothers…and I would never risk our friendship…but it's ruined me for anyone else. It's always been her. She's the only one."
The video captured Zayne's surprised expression, then back to Cam, his voice now audible:
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you at the time. I didn't know how."
