Page 83 of Craving

She’d been wrong to hide her mistakes from the people who cared about her. She’d been so focused on being independent that she’d veered into isolation. Now, with her friends around her and Marlon at home, Camilla realized that independence had a price she hadn’t factored into her calculations before.

Being secretive cost her closeness. It cost her the dream of a warm, happy home. It might’ve cost her a family of her own.

She’d endured trials in her life, but Camilla was ready to turn the page. Picking up the loan discharge paperwork, she ignored her friends’ stares as she read through the document, a weight lifting from her shoulders.

Frankie Smith had been her last big mistake.

That was a vow.

And it meant she had to go home and tell Marlon what he meant to her. She had to give up a piece of her independence in exchange for something much better: love, companionship, and a beautiful home.

When she’d found the cake smashed on her bakery floor, she hadn’t been ready to give anything up. But learning that her father had built his business on lies had stripped one last blindfold from her eyes. Now Camilla could see how much weight she’d put on her parents’ opinions, even when she told herself she didn’t care. She felt just how much she’d let shame guide her decisions.

Not anymore.

Now Camilla would choose something infinitely scarier: giving her heart to someone else. If he’d have it.

She left Amelia, Lucy, and Scarlett at the bakery and headed back to the peeling paint and gingerbread trim of her favorite house in Stirling. Buoyed by her friends’ support, Camilla inhaled deeply and followed the footsteps she’d left in the snow to get back to the front door. Stripping off her outwear, she stood at the front door and heard movement in the kitchen.

The ghost of her argument with Marlon still lingered in the air. She regretted everything she’d said. Padding on sock-clad feet down the hardwood floors, she made it to the kitchen and stood in the doorway, watching.

His back was to her. He leaned on the counter and watched the toaster, tension in every line of his body. He knew she was there, but he hadn’t said anything. His mug of coffee was half-finished, sitting next to his clenched right hand.

Camilla felt the gulf between them, but she no longer hesitated. She’d held back for weeks, and Marlon had proven time and time again that he’d be there for her. She’d tried to push him away, and he’d still come back for her. She could no longer deny that she was in love with him, that she could rely on him, that she wanted to make a life with him. She crossed the kitchen and slid her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on the back of his shoulder. She squeezed him tight and said, “I don’t want to move out.”

The hard ball in Marlon’s gut eased all at once. He put a palm over Camilla’s hand and let out a long breath, then turned in the circle of her arms. They held each other in the silence of the warm kitchen until his toast popped up.

Pulling away, Camilla looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Marlon shook his head. “Me too, sweetheart.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. The splint on his face nudged her nose, and a drop of pain splashed across his nose. He pulled away. “You want a slice of toast?”

Camilla nodded, and they slipped into the easy intimacy of domestic life. Marlon kept his hand on Camilla’s thigh as they ate toast and drank coffee, then he refilled their cups and led her to the living room.

On the couch they’d chosen together, he wrapped Camilla in his arms and asked, “Want to know what I wished for on my birthday?”

She turned to meet his gaze. “What?”

He smiled at the woman in his arms, his thumb stroking her shoulder. “I wished you’d stay with me forever.”

Her breath came out in a rush, tears filling her eyes. “I should have told you about my debt and about Frankie. I’m so sorry, Marlon. I was so ashamed of having taken his money in the first place, and I was so used to facing all my problems on my own. I should have trusted you.”

The fading spark of his anger guttered and went out. He shook his head. “You didn’t owe me any information about your business or your finances. I was just trying to take care of you, but I went about it all wrong.”

Thumbing the neckline of his T-shirt, Camilla shook her head. “I haven’t had anyone to take care of me in a long time, Marlon. I’m not sure I remember what it’s supposed to feel like.”

“I guess it feels like someone grabbing your ankles when you’re stuck halfway through a bathroom window.”

She elbowed him in the gut. Hard.

Laughing, Marlon pulled her close and stretched out on the sofa. She lay on top of him, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder. Her hair felt like silk as he ran his fingers through it, over and over again.

“For a long time, I thought pulling away from people was the best option for me.” Marlon stared at the ceiling medallion around the chandelier Camilla had chosen. The room looked beautiful and homey and perfect. “I didn’t make new friends. I kept my employees at a distance. I didn’t date anyone seriously. Didn’t let anyone in. It was easier.”

Camilla remained quiet, a warm weight splayed over his body.

He let out a sigh. “My mother died when I was a teen. I don’t like to talk about her because it makes me angry and sad, and sometimes I just don’t see the point. But she’s one of the reasons I am the way I am.”

Camilla stilled, then lifted her head.

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