Page 50 of Cold Feet
Before I could respond, my mother clapped her hands for attention. "Everyone! Connie is here. Let's get organized! Family beach photos first, then we'll do smaller family groupings."
What followed was the controlled chaos of herding twenty Decker family members onto the beach and into aesthetically pleasing arrangements. Connie, a cheerful woman with bright red lipstick and an impressive array of camera equipment, seemed unfazed by my mother's exacting standards, directing us with gentle but firm instructions.
"Now the engaged couple in the center," she called after capturing several large group shots. "Parents and siblings around them."
My mother practically glowed as she positioned herself next to me, while my father stood beside Cam with what almost passed for a smile. Drake and Serena, who couldn't keep their hands off each other for more than thirty seconds, stood to our left, with Zayne completing the family circle on the right. Nana insisted on standing directly behind us, claiming the "energy flow" was best there. Which…of course it was.
"Cam, put your arm around Lana's waist," Connie directed. "Lana, lean into him a bit more. That's it."
Cam's arm settled around me, heavy and secure, drawing me against his side. I tensed instinctively, then forced myself to relax, to play the part of the blissfully engaged girlfriend. To my surprise, it wasn't difficult at all.. Cam's body now felt familiar, even after only one night of sharing a bed. My own treacherous body recognized his, molding against him as if we'd been doing this for years instead of fumbling through a charade that had started mere weeks ago.
"Perfect!" Connie exclaimed. "Now, Cam, look at Lana like she's the most precious thing in your world."
I expected him to ham it up, to assume some exaggerated expression of adoration that would make me roll my eyes. Instead, when I glanced up, I found him already looking at me with a softness in his eyes that made my breath catch. There was no performance in that look, or if there was, it was the most convincing acting I'd ever witnessed.
And the Oscar goes to…
"Beautiful," Connie murmured, snapping away. "The camera loves you two."
For the next hour, we moved through a series of poses, each seemingly designed to increase the physical contact between Cam and me. Hands linked, his arm around my shoulders, my head tucked against his chest. At one point, he stood behind me, arms wrapped around my waist, chin resting lightly on my shoulder as we faced the Gulf.
The combination of his solid presence, the heat of the Florida sun, and the constant sea breeze created a sensory cocoon that made it surprisingly easy to melt into him. Or melt period because it was like 8,000 degrees outside. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my back created a hypnotic cadence that threatened to lull me into a dangerous comfort.
"Whisper something that will make her laugh," Connie suggested.
His breath tickled my ear. "Your aunt just asked me if I'm planning to get a tattoo of your name. I told her I already have one, but it's not in a location I can show in a family photo."
A startled laugh escaped me, genuine and unforced. "You didnot."
"I did. She nearly choked on her mimosa." His lips brushed against my temple, a touch so light it could have been accidental. "You have the best laugh, you know that?"
Something warm unfurled in my chest at his words, a dangerous tendril of pleasure that had nothing to do with our fake engagement and everything to do with the man holding me.
"Alright, just a few more," Connie announced. "Let's get some with just the couple. Everyone else can take a break."
Asmy family retreated to the deck, leaving Cam and me alone with the photographer, I felt suddenly exposed. Without the buffer of relatives around us, the pretense felt more intimate, more real.
"Let's try some walking shots," Connie suggested. "Just stroll along the water's edge, talking naturally. Pretend I'm not even here."
Cam took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine as we began walking along the shoreline. The sun was high now, its light dancing across the gentle waves, and a soft breeze carried the scent of salt and sunscreen. Tiny sandpipers darted along the wet sand ahead of us, leaving delicate footprints that disappeared with each incoming wave.
"You okay?" he asked quietly as we walked. "You seem tense."
I was – but not for the reasons he probably thought. I was tense because of how easy this all felt. How right. How real. How my hand fit perfectly in his, as if our fingers had been designed to interlock.
"I'm fine," I said. "Just... a lot of... togetherness."
"We can take a break after this," he offered. "I'm sure your family would understand if we needed some time alone."
The suggestion was practical, a respite from the constant performance, but something in his tone made me glance up sharply. His expression was carefully neutral, yet I sensed an undercurrent I couldn't quite name.
"Spin her around!" Connie called from behind us. "Like you're dancing on the beach!"
Cam raised an eyebrow. "May I have this dance?"
Before I could respond, he twirled me gently, then pulled me back against him, one hand settling at the small of my back, the other still holding mine. We swayed together for a moment, not quite dancing but not quite standing still either, the warm sand shifting beneath our bare feet. His eyes never left mine, and I found myself caught in their blue depths like a surfer in a riptide. Beautiful and dangerous.
"You look really pretty today," he said softly. "That dress... the color suits you."
