Page 132 of Final Offer
I’ve always loved having dinner with Cami. It’s the one part of the day where we can sit down together and enjoy each other’s company, and I thought life couldn’t get any better than that.
At least I did until Cal joined us.
Having him spend time with us at dinner feels natural. Like we were always meant to be a trio, even if we spent six years apart.
I prolong the dinner for as long as possible, solely because I want to relish in Cami’s happiness and Cal’s attention for a little longer. Cami gives me a weird look when I offer snickerdoodles for a second time today, but she doesn’t call me out on the fact that I already let her have dessert before dinner.
“Can we watch a movie?” Cami asks as Cal chomps on his fifth cookie. Seriously. Where does he pack it all, and how do I get my body to do the same?
“Sure. I’d love to see a movie.” I don’t think twice before answering. Cami’s bedtime is in a couple of hours, so we have enough time.
She clasps her hands together. “And build a fort?”
“That sounds like a fun idea.” Cal’s eyes lock on to mine as his tongue darts out to lick the crumbs away from his mouth.
That freaking tease.
I’m tempted to take a bite out of his bottom lip just to make a point.
“Who said you were invited?” I shoot him a look.
“Me!” Cami raises her hand.
Cal grins. “It’s settled, then.”
Asshole.
The only reason I decide to go along with their plan is because Cal hasn’t had a single drink all night. I can tell he is trying, so I don’t want to squash his efforts.
“Fine,” I sigh before turning to Cami. “But you need to wash your hands and brush your teeth first.”
“Okay!” Cami bolts for the bathroom.
Cal grabs blankets and a few spare pillows from the linen closet while I turn on the massive TV Cal bought during one of his shopping sprees. I download the KidFlix app and log in using my credentials.
“What’s that?” Cal drops the blankets on the couch.
“KidFlix?”
“Yeah.” He drags a few of the chairs over from the dining area.
“A streaming service.”
“What about DreamStream?”
My head tilts. “What about it?”
He freezes in place. “You don’t like it?”
I bite down on my lip. “Umm…”
“What?”
“It’s not that I don’t like it.” DreamStream is a Kane Company baby, so I have to be careful how I phrase my opinion.
“Then what?”
I consider how to mince my words before settling on the truth. “It’s just that it’s not that good.”
