Never Say Never

by Rachael Sommers

  It was…intense, feeling the weight of Camila’s gaze on her. Her throat was tight and her heart hammered in her chest, and Emily wanted to ask if Camila would be like this tomorrow and the day after and the day after that, if they would play games and banter playfully once they were back to their routine.

  But the words stuck in her throat. She didn’t want to break the spell—if she only had Camila for one more night, she wasn’t going to risk throwing it away yet.

  Camila blinked first, looking a little dazed, and she cleared her throat as she climbed to her feet. She stepped close to Emily to pick up the couch cushion. Emily still didn’t move, so Camila offered her hand, and she took it, letting Camila pull her to her feet.

  When she did, it was with a stronger tug than Emily expected, and she lost her balance, steadying herself with a hand on Camila’s waist.

  The delicate point of Camila’s hip bone pressed against Emily’s skin, and she curled her fingers instinctively around her waist. Camila gasped.

  They were close, closer than they had ever been before, chest-to-chest, and Camila was breathing on her neck, and she knew, she knew that she should step away and disappear down the hall, but God, she couldn’t because Camila was magnetic, and Emily couldn’t look away from her, much less move—she was frozen in place, her limbs as heavy as lead.

  She couldn’t move and she wouldn’t, because things felt different this time, and if this was the only way she could have Camila, the only time she could have Camila, she sure as hell wasn’t going to let the moment slip through her fingers.

  Emily didn’t know who started it, but suddenly they were kissing, Camila’s mouth hot and desperate, her tongue searching, and Emily thought she had died and gone to heaven.

  Emily moaned into Camila’s mouth as her hand slid into her hair, bringing her deeper into the kiss, and God, Emily had imagined this a hundred times, but it was nothing, nothing compared to the reality of having Camila in her arms, her lips moving against her own.

  She slid her other hand down to Camila’s hip, pulling her close and falling backward onto the couch. Camila straddled her, a knee on either side of Emily’s hips. Camila’s weight in her lap, and Emily stroked Camila’s thighs, pushing her dress up over bare skin. Camila groaned, and fuck, Emily thought she was going to spontaneously combust with the sparks dancing across her skin wherever she and Camila touched.

  In the distance a phone rang, persistent and annoying, and she whined when Camila pulled back until she saw the molten fire in her eyes, dark and dangerous, and Emily recognized the desire swimming in their depths.

  But then Camila realized where she was, what she was doing, and she glanced down at Emily’s kiss-swollen lips, Emily’s hands on her thighs, and her expression changed. Her lips tightened and her eyes darkened, and Emily felt her slipping away, retreating behind her walls, felt the moment turning to dust.

  “Camila, I—” Emily wanted to salvage things, to make everything better, even though she had no idea what to say, no clue what she could possibly do. Camila extracted herself from Emily’s arms, slipped off her lap, and stood up.

  She stumbled as she turned, and Emily reached for her wrist, but Camila wrenched her hand away like it burned, and Emily felt tears sting her eyes.

  “Emily, that…that cannot happen again.” Camila’s voice shook, but her eyes were steady, and Emily wanted to disappear into the couch, wished she had gone to bed with Jaime, because it was happening again—Camila was pulling away, and this time Emily didn’t know how she would survive.

  “Why not?” The words came out in a whisper, and she hadn’t meant for them to slip out at all, but they did. Camila stared down at her like she didn’t recognize her, and Emily had no idea what she was seeing, what she might be giving away to Camila’s probing gaze.

  “Because this was a mistake.” Now her voice didn’t waver and her jaw was set. If there had been a chance to salvage this moment, it was gone now. “I’m not… I’m just not interested in you like that.”

  “You kissed me back.” Her voice was too quiet, too weak where Camila’s was strong. She was fighting a losing battle but not quite ready to quit.

  “It was…a momentary lapse in judgment—”

  Her words stung, cutting her like a thousand pieces of glass slicing into her skin, into her heart, leaving it in tatters, and she couldn’t believe she had been so stupid to let this happen again. Everything she cared about was falling apart.

  “—and it won’t happen again.”

  And though she wanted to believe Camila wouldn’t keep that promise, wanted to keep fighting, the will had gone out of her. Somehow Camila looked completely unaffected as she smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress. Emily slumped back onto the couch, defeated.

  “Okay.” Her voice sounded far away, and if Camila said anything else, Emily’s head was too fuzzy to hear it. When she looked up again, Camila was gone, back to the safety of her room.

  Tears slipped down Emily’s cheeks and she wiped them hastily away, but they wouldn’t stop and she didn’t know how to make them.

  She never should have applied for this job, should never have accepted it, because even in that first interview she knew it would be dangerous. And now here she was, crying her eyes out a million miles from home, and she felt more alone than she had in a long, long time.

  At least she knew where she stood now, once and for all.

  Camila didn’t want her, she never had, and now that she knew that, maybe she could move on.

  But she knew she wouldn’t.

  Now she had to figure out how in the hell she was going to look Camila in the eye without her heart tearing itself in two.

  She didn’t know if that was even possible.

  * * *

  Camila shut the door behind her and leaned against it, one hand twisting her hair. She wanted to scream.

  She hadn’t been able to keep her distance from Emily this week, had indulged too much, had let her get close again, let her think she had a chance, and now…now everything was in pieces. The second their mouths had met, Camila lost control because, when Emily kissed her the first time, it had been swift and chaste, but this time Emily had kissed her with fervor, with intention, and it had lit a fire in her that she didn’t think would ever truly die.

  Emily had kissed her, and Camila kissed her back because it was all she had wanted to do the whole damn week, and the ringing phone had snapped her back to reality.

  Pushing Emily away the first time had been hard, but this time it was torture.

  She could undo it so easily. She could go back to the living room where Emily was probably still on the couch, and she could pull her to her, hold her close, and kiss her hard.

  But it would end, she knew it would. She had never had a relationship that lasted, and this time there were far too many obstacles—Emily’s age, their professional relationship—in their way.

  Surely it was easier to end this before it really began, even though it didn’t feel easier, not with the memory of Emily’s lips on hers, the sound of Emily’s moans echoing in her head. And when she closed her eyes, all she saw was the hurt on Emily’s face as Camila walked away.

  Her resolve nearly crumbled when she heard Emily sobbing, the sounds wrenching through her chest, and she shoved herself away from the door so she wouldn’t hear any more.

  It was for the best, she told herself, yanking off her dress, the dress that now smelled like Emily, still rumpled from where her hands had been, and she crawled under the covers.

  She knew she wouldn’t sleep, not when her mind was racing, not when she knew Emily was upset, not when she was upset, and she didn’t remember the last time she had cried but she was close to it, her eyes stung, and she didn’t fight the tears when they started to fall.

  She had been reduced to a lovesick fool, crying over a woman half her age, and she had no idea how
Emily had found her way into her heart.

  She had never felt pain like this, even when Chris left her for someone else, but that had probably been inevitable, as had the divorces that came before. She had felt them all slipping away, had known the end was near, but this…

  Emily had blown into her life like a hurricane, waves crashing into her heart, leaving a void that could not be filled.

  The best thing, the only thing to do was to fire her.

  For the first time she contemplated what it would mean—it would hurt Jaime, and he’d probably hate her for a while, but Emily would be out of her life, she would be out of Emily’s, and maybe then things could go back to the way they had been. The scars would linger, but she wouldn’t have to see her every day, and with distance and time, Emily would heal and move on, even if Camila never did.

  But she didn’t have the heart to do it—she didn’t want to hurt Emily any more, didn’t want to push the knife any deeper than she already had.

  She would have to go back to keeping her distance, only this time she wouldn’t slip, wouldn’t encourage Emily ever again, would treat her like she treated her other employees, like she didn’t matter.

  But God, she did matter, she mattered so much that Camila could hardly breathe, and she just didn’t know how this had happened. How did someone like Emily, so special, so perfect, even exist in this cruel and unforgiving world?

  She would keep her distance, keep Emily at arm’s length, and maybe, just maybe, they would get through.

  Or at least Emily might.

  Because it might be too late for her.

  She was in love, didn’t know when it had happened, when she had fallen, but she had, hard and fast and so dizzyingly deep that she would never be the same again.

  Chapter 20

  Emily didn’t sleep at all that night.

  She didn’t move from the couch, didn’t change out of her clothes, and didn’t get a blanket. She just lay there falling apart and promising to put herself back together in the morning, try to function enough to get home, to not let Camila see how much she was hurting, and when the sun started streaming in through the window, she was still lying there, staring at nothing.

  They were supposed to meet Jessica at nine to leave for the airport, but at eight o’clock, Emily still hadn’t heard any movement from where Jaime slept, so she had to pull herself together and make sure he was up and ready.

  The task created a welcome distraction, and she quickly changed into some fresh clothes before waking him up. She probably looked like shit without makeup, but she didn’t care, especially since she was going to spend the next eight hours on a plane anyway.

  She forced herself to act normal around Jaime, getting him dressed and fed and making sure their luggage was packed and ready. Just as she thought she would have to check if Camila was awake, her door opened. It was exactly 8:59.

  Camila appeared a moment later, rolling her suitcase behind her. She told her son good morning and asked if he was ready to go. She never looked at Emily.

  Jessica was already in the lobby, so they checked out and loaded into the town car that was waiting for them. The silence was stifling, but Emily didn’t know what to say.

  “Is, um—” Jessica broke the silence, glancing nervously between Emily, who was staring out the window, and Camila, who was tapping on her phone. “Is everything all right?”

  “Fine,” Camila replied in a voice that didn’t invite further discussion. Emily felt Jessica watching her, but she didn’t turn around, sure she would break if Jessica said anything to her.

  The traffic was light, and the journey didn’t take them as long as when they had arrived. After getting through security, Camila disappeared into the first-class lounge with Jaime, and Emily breathed a little easier.

  “Emily?”

  Jessica lightly touched her arm, and Emily turned around to face her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Everything’s fine.” But it wasn’t, and she knew she didn’t look like everything was fine. She had barely said a word all day, she probably looked like she hadn’t slept, and she hadn’t even tried to fix her face. But she also didn’t want to have this conversation outside of the duty-free store as passengers hurried by.

  “Emily…”

  “I said everything’s fine. I’ll be fine,” she added, because then at least she wasn’t lying. At least she hoped she would one day be able to look at Camila without feeling like she wanted to burst into tears.

  She turned to walk to their gate. Jessica trailed behind her, but once they were seated next to each other waiting to board, any hope that Jessica might drop the subject faded.

  “Did something… Did something happen last night when you guys went out?”

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “Come on, Emily, I’m not an idiot. You were both fine yesterday, and now you and Camila can barely look at each another. And I…I’ve seen the way you look at her, and I’ve seen her all but melt around you. That’s why I didn’t tag along last night—I didn’t want to be a third wheel.”

  “I wish you had come with us,” Emily said. “Maybe you could have saved me from being an idiot.”

  She knew it would have happened anyway eventually. She would have kissed Camila again at some point—but at least it might have been on familiar territory and without an eight-hour flight looming ahead.

  “Look, I realize I don’t really know you all that well, but I do know you’re not an idiot.”

  “I feel like one.” Emily sighed, running a hand through her unbrushed hair and leaning back in her seat. “I fucked up everything, and now she won’t even look at me.”

  “She’ll get over it,” Jessica said, and Emily wanted to believe that she would, because Jessica knew Camila better than most people, having spent many days at her side.

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  Jessica didn’t answer, but she stayed close and tried to distract her with a one-sided conversation as they waited.

  Emily was grateful that Jessica was there. More than anything, she was touched that Jessica even cared.

  Camila and Jaime once again waited until the last minute to board, and still Camila didn’t look at her as the two of them took the seats in front of Emily and Jessica. Jaime yelled her name and tried to wriggle out of Camila’s grip.

  She wouldn’t put it past Camila if she had tried to change seats.

  Once they were in the air, Jaime sat with her. He was a good distraction. First he wanted to read a book, then he watched some cartoons, and when he asked if he could color, Emily drew pictures of whatever he asked for and handed him the sketch pad.

  But when he returned to his seat to sleep, Emily became restless. Her mind swirled with the memory of Camila’s skin under her fingertips, Camila’s mouth against hers, the look in Camila’s eyes as she told Emily it could never happen again.

  She desperately needed to sleep, but her mind wouldn’t rest. She couldn’t concentrate to read or watch a movie, so she pulled her sketch pad out of her bag and opened it to a clean page.

  She glanced out the window hoping for inspiration, but they were over the ocean and would be for a while, so instead she flicked through photos of the trip until she found one she wanted to re-create.

  It was the day she took Jaime to ride the London Eye, the giant Ferris wheel on the South Bank of the Thames. She had taken a dozen photos of the city’s landmarks from the top—Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, St. Paul’s Cathedral—and setting the phone down, she began to sketch.

  She focused on the drawing in a way she hadn’t in a long time, hunched over the pad and losing herself in the scratch of pencil against paper.

  When she was done, she leaned back and stretched. Beside her, Jessica whistled, and Emily turned to find her looking at the page with reverence in her eyes.
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br />   “Wow, you’re really good.”

  “It’s okay.” Emily glanced at the drawing with a critical eye.

  “Are you kidding?” Jessica raised her eyebrows. “Emily, that’s amazing.”

  “Thanks.” She flushed, not used to praise, and turned to a fresh page, biting on the end of her pencil as she thought about what to draw next.

  She decided to go stream of consciousness, drawing whatever came into her head. When she realized she had drawn a pair of dark and stormy eyes shaped like Camila’s, she slammed the book shut, her inspiration evaporating.

  Instead she pulled out her laptop and lost herself in a YouTube loop until she dozed off.

  When she woke up, Jaime was sitting on Jessica’s knee. As soon as he noticed she was awake, he climbed over the armrest and wrapped his arms around her neck. She hugged him back, holding him close.

  “What’s this for?” she asked when he wouldn’t let go, but he only squeezed her tighter.

  “You looked sad.” His voice wavered a little, and it broke her heart that he was trying to comfort her, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying.

  “I’m okay, buddy,” she whispered in his ear, and he leaned back to look at her.

  “Are you and my mom fighting again?”

  How could she even answer that? How did she begin to explain what had happened in a way he might understand?

  When she finally answered, she chose her words carefully. “I… Your mom isn’t happy with me right now.”

  “Did you say sorry? When she’s mad at me, I say sorry, and then it’s okay again.”

  “I don’t think sorry can fix this, buddy.” She wished it was that simple, but it wasn’t. It would take more than an apology to heal the rift between them.

  Not that she really needed to apologize. Camila had kissed her back, had maybe even started it—or maybe both of them had leaned in at the same time. Emily couldn’t remember.

  She didn’t know where they would go from here, but she was glad she had a few days to gather herself, some space to clear her head.