Page 21 of The Holiday Ex-Files

“No can do, this needs to be done today. And I realize I’m not your favorite person, but I was the only one available to come.”

I gripped the car handle like a vise. “‘Favorite’ assumes I have some preference for you, and I don’t. You can call Will to do the photos for you.” I opened the door with gusto.

He zoomed my way and had the audacity to shut it with his hand that I had memorized, right down to the scar that ran the length of his index finger. I closed my eyes, begging myself not to think about what a comfort it used to be to hold.

“Cami, please, you know this contract will fall through without you. Do you want to do that to Meredith? The company?” he appealed to my sense of honor. “Listings like this are gold for the firm.”

My father would say the same thing, but he would never throw me in the path of my ex, whose cologne was making me want to retch. I stepped away from him. He used to smell like a dance in the rain. Now he smelled like rancid moss. It was so bad, I had to put my hand over my mouth.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

I had a long list of what was wrong with him, but I stated the most pressing one at that moment. “Your cologne.”

His angular cheeks burned bright red before he cleared his throat. “It’s from one of Claudia’s sponsors.”

My hands clenched at the mention of her name, but old Cami appeared and quipped, “Eau de Outhouse?”

He looked stunned before blowing out a heavy breath. “Do you feel better now?” He used the condescending tone he’d picked up from Claudia. It was a familiar tune. I’d had to learn how to change the station. Life was better when I marched to the beat of my own drum. Sadly, I used to think he wanted to be in my band. Or even to be a sexy groupie. But I didn’t need him cheering for me. I didn’t need him at all.

“No, but I’m working on it.” I threw open my car door. “Goodbye.”

“Cams.” He sounded like the old Ben I knew, and it startled me.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore,” I whispered, still shook.

He hung his head. “Cami, please. I apologize,” he said, quite strangled as if he hadn’t uttered those words in years. “This deal is a game changer for Meredith.”

“Right,” I scoffed. “It has nothing to do with your office and name.”

His hazel eyes hit me like a sucker punch. “You know how it works, but Meredith needs this win.” He sounded sincere. Not that I trusted his sincerity.

When I said nothing in return he added, “Her husband lost his job.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Miss Sparkly wouldn’t have had to think twice. She’d do it in a second to help someone out. Not only would she take the pictures, but she’d host a bake sale or something to benefit the family. She was already making a list of contacts in my head. Meanwhile, I had to think about it while I contemplated slamming Ben’s hand in the car door. I didn’t like that it didn’t come naturally for me to want to help. Too many thoughts of how this would make Ben look bad were consuming me. I admit that the desire to nail him to the wall was almost overpowering. Almost . . . Somewhere inside, the real me still lived and breathed even though I had done my best to smother her. That woman with a fabulous new haircut reminded me that not doing it made this about Ben, and that only gave him more power over me. That was a no go.

I let out a cleansing breath. “Fine. I’ll do it, but don’t ever show up to another appointment again. I don’t care if it’s for the Queen of England. Scratch that—if Queen Elizabeth wants me to take pictures of her castle, I would put up with you for a few hours.”

Ben smiled his dashing smile that used to do all sorts of things to me—like convincing me to change my last name—but now it only made me grimace.

“The point is that I don’t want to see you.” I made sure to drive that home.

That wiped the smile off his face. “Fine,” he growled as if I were depriving him of something he wanted, when everyone knew he didn’t want me. I still had the images of how much he didn’t want me burned into my brain. I shuddered from those thoughts and slammed the car door. Sadly, he had moved his hand before I could injure him.

I marched toward the house but had to stop and gawk at his Audi as if it were an accident on the highway. His once-pristine black car was now screaming with not one, but several headshots of Claudia and her slogan in big red letters—If Claudia Cann, You Can. As beautiful as she was, the car had gone from classy to cheap and cheesy. Almost as if she’d pranked him. But it was just like her to make every bit of Ben’s life about her.

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