Page 47 of Scandal

My guy blushes and purses those juicy lips at me. “Take me to the bedroom.”

“Just three more days until I see you. Can’t wait for me?” I tease.

“Never wanted Thanksgiving to come so badly.”

“Same. But that’s probably because I never had family to spend it with.”

“You don’t remember any of the Thanksgivings before your mom left?”

This is definitely why I didn’t want to tell Cam about my shitty Mom. Then again, I want him to know everything about me. He doesn’t do that whole pity thing that most people do. He just files it away as information. Doesn’t treat me any different.

I try to do the same for him, like when he told me he never met his mom. That she dropped him off as a six-week-old baby with his dad. Never came back.

“Not a one. Do you have memories of being four or five?”

His eyes dart up like he’s thinking for a beat and then he nods. “I remember singing with my dad, sitting in lawn chairs in the circle driveway.”

I chuckle at the idea of a mini-Cam. “What song?”

“Hit the road Jack,” he starts to sing the tune and then laughs.

Lying down on the bed, holding the phone above my head, we smile at each other for a while in silence. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, I got you an internship today.”

“You did?” Cam squishes his nose. Damn, he looks cute like that.

“Yup. They promoted me to team lead, and I leveraged their love for me. So, if you want to come...”

“Hell, yes,” Cam interrupts. “I’m there. Fuck, that will be so awesome. Just tell me that your apartment is better than the motel.”

I snort a laugh. “Infinitely.” Now that I live in a place paid for by my job, I had no choice in the matter. They set me up in a nice place. A loft above a law firm in the tiny downtown area. Never would have sprung for it myself, but I do like the industrial feel and exposed brick walls.

There’s a knocking sound then, and my head turns toward the hallway. “I think someone’s at my door. It’s not you, is it?”

Cam pans the camera around his brightly colored dorm room. “Nope. I wish. Go see. Take me with you.”

Throwing on a shirt, I make it to the door just as the knock sounds out again. It’s a woman in an orange uniform, holding an envelope. “Certified letter for Xander Briggs.”

My heart pumps for a second, as I contemplate whether or not I’m being served.

“It’s from my dad,” Cam’s voice says from my phone speaker, probably sensing my fear.

I release the breath I was holding and take the envelope, signing the electronic pad before closing the door. “What is it?” I ask, even as I tear open the little flap open.

“You’ll see.”

Heading for the couch, I lean the phone against a stack of books so Cam can see me open it the rest of the way.

There’s a single sheet of paper on Whitmore College letterhead, and then a thicker blue folder. I pull out the folder first and open it. Then my eyes must bug out of my head because Cam laughs. “You like it?”

“It’s my degree... but how?”

“Dad found a way to grant you experiential learning credit for the coding you did for the college. You’re officially a college graduate, babe. How do you feel?”

It’s probably stupid, but my chest swells with pride. “He didn’t have to...”

“You earned it,” Cam asserts before I self-deprecate too much. That’s what Joy says I have to stop doing, and Cam’s helping me. In so many ways, Cam is showing me what kind of happy future I might actually deserve.

“This is incredible,” I marvel at the piece of paper I swore to myself I didn’t care about. “Did you know it was coming just now?”

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