Page 59 of Craving

Laughing, Camilla tilted her head up and accepted his kiss. It felt like a new beginning being laid over her lips, her body. She welcomed it with a sigh and a smile.

NINETEEN

The next week was the best of Camilla’s life. She floated through a dream, where her home was warm and cheery, her nights were spent with a beautiful beast of a man, and her bakery was bustling.

She ignored phone calls from her parents, even though she knew a confrontation was coming. She just couldn’t face them right now, when she felt like she was on the cusp of a better tomorrow.

She’d never had someone in her corner before. Not like Marlon. Her friends were supportive, and her employees were loyal, but they would never carry her out of a bad situation on their shoulders the way he had. Literally.

“I feel like it’s all going to come crashing down,” she told Scarlett one afternoon after closing the bakery. They were in Scarlett’s shop, sharing one of the pastries that would be stale by morning. The scent of flowers hung heavy in the air, greenery bursting from a thousand potted plants around the space. Small figurines and knickknacks dotted the shelves and tables, giving the florist’s shop a homey, welcoming feel.

When Camilla had first met Scarlett, she’d thought the shop didn’t quite fit her friend’s vivacious personality. Scarlett made a lot of jokes, laughed loudly, and wasn’t afraid to tell everyone about her breakup-induced so-called slut phase, which may or may not have come to an end (Scarlett hadn’t decided yet). But as Camilla got to know Scarlett over the past six months, she realized that the florist had a deep well of kindness and a very big heart. The shop was an extension of her: alive, vibrant, and cluttered with things to make you smile.

Scarlett narrowed her brown eyes on Camilla and hummed. “That’s your brain trying to protect you, but your brain is an idiot.”

“Well, thanks,” Camilla answered flatly.

Scarlett grinned, then grew serious. “I mean it. You’re trying to protect yourself against hurt, anticipating it, imagining it, and that makes you nervous. Understandable! But it’s all in your head, Camilla. There’s no guarantee anything will come crashing down.”

Camilla grunted and tipped her head from side to side. “I see what you’re saying.”

“Think about it. You’ve found a man who adores you, and your relationship is deepening. Your bakery is a smash hit. You’re on the cusp of some real notoriety with the Goodhew wedding, and you live in your dream home. And all of this has happened within a month.”

A nervous flutter occurred in Camilla’s stomach. She gulped.

Scarlett reached over to pat the back of Camilla’s hand. “You’re allowed to have good things, Camilla. You’re allowed to be happy. It’s natural to be worried, but most of your worries are made up. Think about this: What if everything went right? What if things kept getting better? Don’t self-sabotage. Take it from someone who knows.”

Camilla let her lips slide into a smile, but it felt tight around the edges. There was one worry that wasn’t made up: Frankie Smith.

She’d seen his henchmen lingering around The Sweetest Thing every few days, but they hadn’t approached. Their gazes tracked her as she walked in and out of her shop, though, a constant reminder of what she owed. A reminder that her attempt at rebellion wasn’t forgotten.

After the window repair, the oven repair, and the minor fixes required after the break-in, Camilla had drained a lot of her cash reserves. But the second half of the Goodhew wedding fee would be landing in her account at the end of the week, right before her payment was due. It was once again cutting it close, but along with the steady business the bakery was bringing in, it would be enough.

It had to be.

Maybe Scarlett was right, and Camilla just had to accept that her lot in life was improving. Maybe it was fate: just as she was shedding this last bad debt, her last bad decision, she’d be able to step into a new version of herself. One that included a relationship with a man she was wildly attracted to, a home she’d be happy to live in forever, and a successful small business.

Maybe she’d even be able to reach some common ground with her family. Maybe, if they saw how well she was doing, they’d accept her.

Camilla was changing. Shouldn’t she try to enjoy it?

That evening, she cooked a Malaysian laksa for dinner and poured all her love into the fragrant broth. Marlon hummed as he ate, and after they’d washed up, he caught her against the counters and kissed her deeply.

“Don’t move out,” he said, pulling away. His hands were on her hips, his eyes steady on hers. “I know this was just supposed to be temporary, but I want you to stay.”

Camilla’s heart leaped. “Really?”

“You can keep your room and we can sleep separately whenever you want so you don’t feel like I’m crowding you. We can redecorate the whole place. Redo the kitchen exactly how you like it. Plant a veggie garden in the spring.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Stay.”

“Mr. St. James,” she crooned, “are you trying to bribe me?”

“We can get rid of all the tufting we come across,” he continued.

Camilla laughed. “You still don’t know what it is, do you?”

Marlon grinned. “Stay with me, Camilla.”

It was like he’d read her mind and spoken her desires out loud, except she didn’t want separate rooms. The future shimmered in front of her like a mirage, just out of reach.

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