Page 41 of Cold Feet
For a moment, the deck was silent except for the distant sound of waves against the shore. My mother dabbed at her eyes with a napkin.
"That's beautiful," she said with a sniff. "So romantic."
Zayne made a slight gagging noise, breaking the spell. "If you guys are done with the Hallmark moment, I'm starving. Is dinner happening or what?"
"It's almost ready," my mother assured him, rising from her chair. "Frank, will you check on the grill? Zayne, help me with the salad. Lana, honey, why don't you give Cam a quick tour of the property before we eat?"
The dismissal was transparent – my mother clearly wanted to give us some alone time, but I was grateful for the escape.
"Sure," I agreed, standing and motioning for Cam to follow. "Come on, I'll show you the beach and the boat dock."
As we descended the steps from the deck to the sandy path leading to the water, I finally exhaled.
"That was... creative," I said when we were out of earshot.
Cam slipped his hands into his pockets, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. "Too much?"
"The sunset? The spontaneous proposal? The wedding colors we apparently discussed?"
"I figured we should have our story straight," he said with a shrug. "And it seemed believable. You do get that determined look when you're working through a problem."
I stopped walking, turning to face him. "How do you know that?"
His eyes met mine, steady and unnervingly perceptive. "I notice things."
The admission sent a flutter through my chest that I tried desperately to ignore.
"Well, next time, maybe give me a heads-up before you start waxing poetic about our nonexistent engagement story," I said, resuming our walk. "I felt like I was being ambushed."
"Sorry," he said, not sounding particularly sorry. "I stuck to the rules. I didn't actually lie. You were on a beach with me after a tough week. Your silhouette was great against the sunset. And you were frustrated and problem-solving. And you did look beautiful."
I stopped in the middle of the wooden boardwalk and stared at him. "Wait, what? When?"
"That sponsors' dinner at Clearwater Beach last summer," he said simply. "The one where Crawford showed up drunk and insulted the mayor's husband. You were putting out fires all night, and afterward, you were standing at the edge of the water looking like you wanted to scream. I brought you a glass of champagne."
I remembered that night. I'd spent hours doing damage control after our second goaltender had too much to drink and asked the mayor's husband “So, how’s it feel to be thesecond most important personin your own house?” After I hustled him out of there and sent him home in a Towncar, Cam appeared just as I was contemplating throwing myself into the Gulf, handing me a full glass of champagne with a sympathetic smile.
"You remember that?"
"Of course I remember. You'd kicked off your heels and had your toes in the sand. Your hair was coming down – right about here." He reached out, his fingers hovering just above the nape of my neck where a few strands had escaped my updo that night. "You looked beautiful. Exhausted, but beautiful."
Mybreath caught at the unexpected tenderness in his voice. For a moment, we just stood there, the air between us charged with something I didn't dare name.
"This isn't a game, Cam."
"Isn't it? Just a different kind of performance, with different stakes." He paused as we reached the small private dock that extended into the calm waters of the bay. "Besides, your mother was thrilled. Did you see her face?"
I had, and that was part of the problem. My mother's undisguised joy made the deception feel that much worse.
"I don't like deceiving them," I admitted, leaning against the weathered railing. The setting sun cast long golden fingers across the water, painting everything in warm light. "My parents think this is real. They're making plans, Mom's gonna lose her mind when this comes crashing down.”
"I know," Cam said, his voice softening. "But we'll handle it. Once the deal is signed, we'll find a way to let them down gently."
"And how exactly do we do that? ‘Sorry, Mom and Dad, turns out we were just pretending to be in love for a sneaker contract'?"
Cam winced. "When you put it that way, it does sound kind of terrible."
"Because itisterrible. This whole situation is..." I trailed off, the weight of our deception settling on my shoulders like a physical burden. “Terrible.
