She had barely opened the book when Jaime, suddenly wide awake, asked, “Mama?”
“Yes, sweetheart?” She thought he might want a different book, but his question was simple.
“Why don’t you love Emily?”
“I… What?” She didn’t think he had heard the conversation this morning, much less that he would remember it. “Why would you ask that?”
“Why are you fighting with her?”
“I… We’re not fighting.”
“You are,” he said solemnly. “She’s upset.”
His words felt like a sucker punch right to her gut.
“Where is this coming from?”
“I asked Emily if you were getting divorced because you’re fighting like before Daddy moved out.” His words rushed out, like he’d forget them if he didn’t say them quickly. “But she said you couldn’t get divorced if you weren’t married, and I asked why you weren’t married, and she said because you have to be in love to get married, but that you don’t love her, so”—he took a breath—“why don’t you love her?”
“I…” She was lost for words, didn’t know what to say to him, didn’t want this conversation getting back to Emily because that wouldn’t do either one of them any good.
“She makes me happy.”
“I know she does, sweetheart.”
“Doesn’t she make you happy?”
“She does.”
“Isn’t that what love is?” He peered up at her earnestly. “When someone makes you happy?”
“That’s a part of it,” Camila said, “but it’s a little more complicated than that.”
“I think you love her but you’re scared.” He hugged his teddy bear, the look in his eyes older and wiser than his five years, and Camila stared at him. “Because Daddy left and you don’t want her to leave too.”
He rarely mentioned his father, but she knew the divorce had affected him, as much as she had tried to shield him from the demise of their marriage.
“I don’t think Emily would leave,” Jaime continued confidently.
“Maybe not”—Camila brushed his hair away from his face—“but there’s something you’re forgetting. Emily doesn’t love me.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“She didn’t need to,” Camila told him, and before he could open his mouth to ask something else, she asked, “Now, are you ready for your bedtime story?”
He nodded, and ten minutes into the book, he was fast asleep, his breathing soft, his arms still wrapped around his teddy, and Camila kissed his forehead before slipping from the room.
His words replayed in her mind the rest of the night, and she dreaded to think what he asked Emily when she was at work, wished she could find out, most of all wished she knew Emily’s responses.
She ate a lonely meal, spent another lonely evening with only the television for company, refusing to dwell on how much brighter it would be if Emily were there with her. She knew she wouldn’t be going to sleep anytime soon, so she worked in her study until she was too exhausted for thoughts of Emily to keep her awake.
* * *
Camila had to attend an awards show on Thursday night, which meant Emily had Jaime duty.
She didn’t mind at all, but the last time Camila had attended a gala, it was with a date, and Emily hoped that an eligible bachelor wouldn’t knock at the door tonight because Camila was sure to lay it on thick if she knew Emily was watching, just to drive the stake a little deeper into her heart.
Not that she was being dramatic or anything.
She was lifting Jaime into the air and spinning him around when the front door opened, and Emily nearly dropped him because Camila was in her bedroom being made over, Chris would’ve called ahead, and as far as Emily knew, no one else had a key.
Jaime squealed in delight as he fell into Emily’s arms, and she balanced him on her hip as she turned toward the door.
A woman wearing an elegant black dress stood just inside the doorway, a pair of black-framed glasses perched on her nose. She pursed her lips as she surveyed the apartment, and when her eyes fell on Emily, she gave her a look that was so withering it made her step back—as if she wasn’t supposed to be there.
“You’re not my daughter.”
Charlotte Evans was even more formidable in person than Emily could have imagined from Camila’s stories, and she tightened her hold on Jaime, aware that Camila tried to shield him from his grandmother as much as possible, though it wasn’t clear if the woman planned to come over and pluck him from her arms.
“Um, no, I’m not. I’m Emily, the nanny.”
“You’re the nanny?” Charlotte scanned her from head to toe. “You’re practically a child yourself.”
“I’m twenty-three.”
“Exactly.”
Jaime was hiding his head in Emily’s hair, and she wished they could both disappear.
“Is my daughter here?”
“Uh, yeah, she’s just—”
But Charlotte was already calling for Camila in a high, shrill voice.
In less than five seconds, Camila had run down the hall, bursting into the living room with a look on her face that confirmed Camila had no idea Charlotte was planning to drop by.
“Mother?” Camila held up her unzipped dress with one hand pressed to her chest; the back gaped open, revealing smooth skin. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“You wouldn’t take my calls.” Charlotte sniffed.
“So you decided to show up at my home unannounced?”
“I’m your mother, Camila—I’m allowed to drop in on my daughter whenever I like.”
“What do you want?”
“To find out if you’re coming to the show tonight—you know they’re honoring me, don’t you?”
Camila’s face twitched, and she nodded.
“Is that really what you’re wearing?” Charlotte’s lip curled as she looked at Camila’s dress, and Emily had never been more grateful to have Sarah as her foster mother.
“Yes, Mother,” Camila said through gritted teeth. “This is a custom-made Versace.”
Emily took a step back, thinking to sneak away to hide with Jaime in his room until Charlotte was gone. Camila looked at her with a face that said “Don’t you dare leave me,” and Emily stopped in her tracks.
“It doesn’t look like it.”
Camila made a noise in her throat that could have been a growl.
“And do you have a date?”
“No.”
Charlotte looked appalled. “Camila, we discussed this. You can’t show up to an event like this alone, especially with your recent divorce.”
“Because God forbid a woman over forty be single in public?”
“Exactly.”
Camila rolled her eyes.
“Let me make a few calls. I’m sure I can arrange something—”
“I told you, I don’t need you to set me up.”
“Really?” Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “How many dates have you been on since Christopher left, hmm?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“I know of at least one.” Charlotte answered her own question. “You were recently photographed with a woman, were you not?”
Emily’s blood froze. She knew where this was going, and when Charlotte looked at her, she prayed the floor would open up and swallow her.
“A woman who, if I’m not mistaken, bears a striking resemblance to your nanny.”
She and Camila had never talked about the article linking the two of them together. In fact, Emily had almost forgotten about it.
Unlike certain other people in the room.
“Are you taking after your ex-husband, Camila? Screwing the help?”
“That is enough.” Her voice was low, but rage crackled through every
word. Emily had never seen Camila so angry—the color had drained from her face, her eyes flashed, and her hand was curled into a fist at her side.
“Oh dear, have I crossed a line by bringing your girlfriend into this?”
Camila took a step forward, her mouth set, and Emily took another step back, ready to bolt.
“She is not the help,” Camila spat. “And she is not my girlfriend—not that it would be any of your business if she were.”
“On the contrary”—Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest and stared at her daughter—“it’s very much my business who you date and what your image is—and three divorces and a twenty-year-old girlfriend don’t paint you in the best light.” Charlotte turned her attention to Emily. “And if you’re hoping to get something by—”
“You don’t get to look at her, let alone speak to her,” Camila snapped, positioning herself between Emily and her mother. “She’s here to do a job—which she is damn good at, by the way, and you are not going to scare her off.”
“My, my. You certainly have made an impression.” Emily knew that remark was directed at her, though she couldn’t see Charlotte’s face. “She didn’t even defend her husband like that.”
“Get out.” Camila’s voice dripped with acrimony, and Emily was a little surprised when Charlotte turned on her heel and stalked from the apartment.
The door clicked shut, leaving Emily and Jaime alone with Camila.
Camila was shaking, her face twisted with rage. Before Emily could open her mouth, Camila disappeared back to her bedroom, slamming the door violently behind her.
“Is it over?” Jaime mumbled, his mouth pressed close to Emily’s ear.
“Yeah, buddy, it’s over.”
He turned his head to see for himself, glancing around the room.
“That was intense, huh?”
“They always fight.”
“Yeah?”
“She’s mean to my mom. And she doesn’t like me.”
“Trust me, buddy—that’s probably not a bad thing.” She set him down carefully. “You want to play some more?” she asked, hoping he was ready for a distraction, and she was relieved when he nodded.
Camila’s team filed out of her bedroom, soon followed by the woman herself, a pair of high heels in her hands. Her jaw was still tight, her eyes still blazed with anger, but when she crouched down to say goodnight to Jaime, she spoke softly.
“Be good for Emily, young man,” she told him, kissing his head and looking like she wished more than anything she could stay. “And I’ll see you later, Emily.” Then she slipped into her shoes, closed the door behind her, and clicked her way down the hall.
Emily turned to Jaime. “What do you wanna do now, buddy?”
“Watch cartoons!”
“Cartoons it is.”
* * *
The evening was dreadful.
When she wasn’t dodging every single man (and even some not-single men) in attendance who thought he had a shot with her because she was there solo, then she was hearing about her mother’s many achievements and how she must be so proud—despite the fact that she herself was more successful in her field than Charlotte Evans would ever be in hers.
And she had to avoid the woman in question. She was still furious with her for the stunt she had pulled.
The more she thought about it, the more she realized it had been a calculated move.
Charlotte Evans had never been happy about her daughter’s bisexuality. She had probably seen that article and panicked that Camila’s next suitor would be a woman, that Camila would bring her tonight, and she must have been primed for attack when she walked into Camila’s apartment and come face-to-face with Emily.
Because the pictures may have been blurry, but her mother had a sharp eye.
She couldn’t believe the audacity, but she shouldn’t be surprised—tonight’s event was to honor Charlotte, after all, and she would have been furious if Camila had appeared with a woman on her arm.
She had thought about doing it just to piss her mother off, but then she thought of Emily, of the wounded look in her eyes the last time Camila had a date, and decided against it.
She wanted to keep Emily at a distance, but she didn’t want to be cruel.
Camila didn’t look at her mother once all night, fury still licking through her veins like fire, and Charlotte stayed away too. Camila hated that Charlotte got under her skin, but hearing her talk to Emily like that had just made something snap. Her reaction was probably a dead giveaway to her mother.
But maybe Emily was none the wiser.
She escaped as soon as she could, slipping out a side door and waiting only a few minutes for her car. She was home by eleven and opened the door quietly, not wanting to wake Jaime.
The apartment was dark, and it took her a moment to find Emily lying on the couch, fast asleep in the flickering light of the television. Camila stopped short at the sight of her, her throat tight with unexpected feelings flooding through her.
God, she was beautiful. Camila hadn’t looked at her too closely since the kiss, hadn’t wanted to be caught staring, but she let herself stare now, drinking in the sight of her face relaxed in sleep, the television casting shadows across her face.
She looked so young, so peaceful, with none of the hurt that always seemed to be lurking just below the surface whenever Camila met her gaze.
Camila was loathe to wake her, she’d rather watch her sleep, but her couch couldn’t be comfortable to sleep on. “Emily,” she said softly, and when it had no effect, tried again a little louder. Emily still didn’t stir, so she crouched down, reaching out to gently shake her shoulder, trying to ignore the sparks that shot through her fingertips whenever she touched her. “Emily, wake up.”
Emily’s eyes flew open, and she blinked sleepily, her face so close, too close, the closest they had been since the kiss, and she could have drowned in those eyes, those shimmering pools of blue, until she lost the will to surface for air. She sat upright, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Oh, shoot, sorry—I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“It’s all right. It’s late.”
Emily glanced at the clock as if checking to see if Camila was telling the truth, and Camila wondered how long she had been asleep.
“Did everything go okay tonight?”
“He was in bed by eight. He escaped a couple of times wanting to watch some more cartoons, but he fell asleep by nine.” Emily’s voice was lower than usual, rough with sleep, and Camila’s stomach flipped.
“Good.”
“My evening was probably better than yours.”
“You could say that. I’m…I’m sorry about all of the unpleasantness earlier. I had no idea my mother would show up, let alone that she would attack you.”
“It sounded more like an attack on you.”
Camila realized she was still crouching and shifted to sit on the edge of the coffee table.
“Your mom is…a lot. I can see why you keep her away from Jaime.”
“Was he okay after she left?”
“Yeah, he was fine. He hid in my hair the whole time. I think he forgot about it about three seconds after she left.”
“Good.” Camila really didn’t want to explain to him why her mother thought Emily was her girlfriend, considering his curiosity lately. “And…and you’re okay?” Camila asked with some hesitation. Emily eyed her warily.
“What, with your mother’s opinion of me?” Emily raised her eyebrows. “Well, since I’m not actually your girlfriend, it doesn’t matter what she thinks, does it?” Emily met her gaze directly with steel that only Camila seemed to elicit. “Not that I care anyway.”
Camila wished she could be so quick to brush off her mother’s opinion, wished she hadn’t wasted so many years trying to get approval.
“My car i
s waiting for you downstairs.” Camila decided to change the subject before she got lost in Emily’s eyes. “My driver will take you home.”
“You didn’t have—”
“—to do that,” Camila finished. They had had this argument many times before. “I know, but I did it anyway, and if you don’t use it, my driver will have waited an extra ten minutes when he could’ve been at home.” Guilt was the best way to get Emily to comply.
“All right, all right.” Emily got to her feet, running a hand through her hair as she slung her bag over her shoulder.
“Thanks for staying so late.” She would have asked her to stay the night, seeing as she would be back in less than nine hours, but Emily never would have agreed.
“It’s all good.” She stepped into her boots and shrugged on her coat at the front door, waving at Camila before shutting the door behind her. Camila padded to her room and wondered how different her night would have been if Emily had been by her side.
Chapter 17
“Jesus Christ, Emily, are you leaving for a month or five days?” Cassie said when she arrived at Emily’s apartment to take her to the airport.
“I don’t know what I’ll need,” Emily said defensively.
“So you thought you’d take everything you owned?”
“Yep.”
Cassie shook her head but lugged the suitcase down the stairs anyway.
“How are you feeling?” Cassie asked when they were on the road. Emily shrugged, not really sure.
She had never been out of the country before, never been anywhere without her sister, and it was strange to know that she was going to be flying across the Atlantic without her.
But she was excited too, because she was going somewhere new, and she would be spending time with Jaime, exploring a new city and seeing it through his eyes. And she’d be with Camila. Things were still strained between them, but they had improved somewhat since the night of Charlotte’s visit.
“It’ll be…an experience, if nothing else,” she said, and Cassie smiled. When Emily told her she was still planning on going, Cassie had said she was worried that it wouldn’t be good for her, that she should stay away from Camila, not jet across the ocean with her, but Emily had assured her sister that she would be fine.
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