Page 85 of Craving

Dean watched his daughter from the other side of the threshold, measuring. His neck was red, his jaw tight. “I don’t know, dear,” he said to his wife, but his eyes told a different story. Camilla felt a shift in their relationship, a new beginning. Or maybe it was an end.

“I’m going to close this door,” Camilla told them. “I’m going to run my bakery. I’m going to live my life the way I want to. If you’d like to be a part of it, you’re more than welcome, but I will no longer tolerate you trying to push me around. I’ll see you for Christmas dinner, but I have a lot of things to do before then, so I won’t be available until then.”

“Camilla, I never—”

“Quiet, Georgina,” Dean said, understanding—and maybe respect—flashing through his eyes. “Camilla said she dealt with Frankie. There’s nothing more for us to do here.”

Her mother huffed and puffed, and her father led her away. Camilla watched them, cold air snapping at her clothes, and then she closed the door.

Marlon stood leaning against the wall behind her, just out of sight of the door. He arched a dark brow. “You okay?”

Camilla scanned her body, assessing. A gust of wind made the walls around her creak, and she felt a rush of warmth and comfort. She was home.

Smiling at the man she was sure she’d marry someday soon, Camilla nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m good.”

He glanced at the box by the front door and, seeing it for the first time, frowned.

Camilla followed his gaze. “Oh. That’s from Frankie. Nice of him to give you your gear back, seeing as you threatened him with your recordings and all.”

At her words, a funny light entered Marlon’s gaze, and Camilla frowned. “You did have recordings, right?” she asked.

Marlon crossed the distance between them and wrapped her in his arms. “What I have or don’t have is no concern of Frankie’s.”

She gaped. “You were bluffing?”

Marlon laughed, squeezing her closer.

“Unbelievable,” she huffed, but she couldn’t help the smile from curving her lips.

Marlon leaned his forehead against hers. “I get that a lot.”

Laughing, Camilla pulled him down for a kiss.

When they came back up for air, he murmured against her lips, “Tell me you’ll stay.”

Her smile bloomed. “Okay. But Marlon?”

“Hmm?”

“There’s no take-backsies. You won’t be able to get rid of me now.”

He grinned. “That goes both ways, sweetheart.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and dragged him down to kiss him with all the love in her heart. A love he’d awakened, and nurtured, and cherished. A love she hoped they’d share for the rest of their lives.

EPILOGUE

They were married just over a year later, in April.

Camilla smoothed her hands down her dress, a mermaid-cut masterpiece in pure white. Her body had never looked better, but it was the moment when Marlon laid eyes on her from the other end of the aisle that she felt truly beautiful.

She was marrying the man of her dreams, and she couldn’t be happier. Her veil was nestled in her hair, falling all the way to the small train of her dress. White satin shoes completed the ensemble, along with a bouquet from Scarlett’s shop.

After she handed the bouquet off to Amelia, her maid of honor, she turned to face her soon-to-be husband.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi,” he said, eyes glazed. “You look incredible.”

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