Cami managed a smile, but couldn’t vouch for it coming across happy. “I’m up to my eyebrows in work. But thanks.” She hurried away before she could get drawn into more conversation.
As soon as her bedroom door clicked closed behind her, Cami stopped and took a deep breath. She felt so angry. Angry at whomever was causing problems for them in the news. Angry with her father for keeping so many secrets and dumping them all together in this. Angry that he’d planned for her to get together with Vince, and she’d just fallen right into place like the obedient daughter she’d always been. Angry at the other women for existing and ruining her image of the father who had always treated her with the adoration every child deserved.
She didn’t have to toe the line in everything, though. And she had no intention of becoming bosom buddies with his other daughter or letting things with Vince get serious. It was time to strike out for independence.
Chapter 20
The next morning Cami found hot muffins on the table and Mrs. Grady kneading dough on the counter. “Wow! It smells great.”
“Thanks. I thought you girls could use some fresh bread and soup for dinner tonight. I’ll finish the cleaning when everyone’s gone for the day.” Mrs. Grady sprinkled a little more flour onto the counter and returned to kneading. “It sounds like things are getting busy at the hotel.”
“There’s always something going on,” Cami agreed. The hotel itself was only one of her worries. She spotted the plate of chocolate and crème cake rolls Rosemary had made the previous day. They were drizzled with chocolate sauce after the slices had been cut and were to-die-for delicious.
“Looks like one of you girls was busy yesterday,” Mrs. Grady commented, seeing Cami study the dessert.
“Rosemary gave Jonquil a lesson on the evils of snack cakes and the joys of cooking.” Cami turned her attention back to the split muffin in her hand and spread some jam on it. “If you ask me, Jonquil is still going to sneak in her Ho Hos—though the cake rolls are divine.” She took a bite of the muffin and made herself a cappuccino.
Mrs. Grady laughed. “My Robert is the same way about those cream-filled oatmeal cookie sandwiches. He says life’s too short not to enjoy it while you can.” Her smile turned wistful.
“How’s he doing?” Cami asked. In all of the craziness of the past few days, she hadn’t followed up on the calls she’d made to some friends in Chicago. She would have to take care of that when she reached the hotel.
“He’s holding on. We’re praying for a donor.” Mrs. Grady turned her attention back to her bread, using more force than before.
“I hope it goes well.” Cami sat in silence until it was time to leave. What could she say?
~*~
Cami sat at the desk in her room Sunday night, typing up notes for the next morning’s meeting. She could hear Jonquil’s music pounding through her closed bedroom door, and Rosemary called something down the stairs to the others, who were all gathered in the kitchen. Though Cami tried to block it all out, it wasn’t easy.
She wished she didn’t have to live in this house with so many people. Even in the monstrosity, she could never be alone. Not really. And yet, she didn’t feel part of the careful camaraderie they seemed to be developing. Nor did she want to. What was wrong with her, anyway? She had a come apart on Vince, had her world turned upside down, and was forced to live everyday with women whose very presence reminded her George had cheated constantly on her mother. And he kept secrets from her, big, important secrets that affected her after making her trust him with most of her own.
Cami thought about taking a trip back to Chicago after the meeting wrapped up the next day. She needed some breathing space. She had a few things in Chicago that needed attention. The break might be perfect.
When she heard a knock at her door, she nearly growled. “Who is it?”
“Lana.”
She forced herself to relax. “Come in.”
Lana entered and shut the door behind her. “You’re always hiding out in here whenever someone else is around.”
“It’s easier. And quieter. Mostly.” She threw a dirty look at the door as another song started on Jonquil’s cranked stereo.
Lana managed a half-hearted smile, which worried Cami. She saved her document, then gave her sister her full attention. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“I wasn’t going to tell you.” Lana sat on the edge of the bed. “I was never going to tell anyone, but I think maybe . . .” She sighed and rubbed her nose. “I knew Dad was cheating on Mom.” She knotted her hands together on her lap, but she held Cami’s gaze. “I’ve known for years.”
Cami felt like everything was crumbling around her all over again. “What do you mean? You knew and never told me? Since when? How?”
“I worked with Dad more than you did. Closer. I’d seen the way he checked out other women sometimes. I didn’t like it, but I thought, you know, you can’t blame someone for looking. He was a guy, after all, even if I didn’t like to think of him that way. It was a couple more years before I saw him with someone, saw the way she touched him, the way they couldn’t seem to stop staring at each other, and then he kissed her. I almost threw up.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach, bending over slightly and her face paled.
“Mom was still alive.” Cami was certain—it wouldn’t have bothered Lana nearly so much if their mom hadn’t still been alive.
“Yes.” Lana stood, moving to the window, then back again. “I confronted him, and he denied it. When I told him I knew, that I’d seen him with the bimbo, he told me it was none of my business; he loved Mom but he needed more.” She returned to the window, staring out at the lowering sun. “I put in applications everywhere to get away from Dad, was thrilled when the opportunity came up at the Ritz-Carlton.”
Cami remembered well her shock that Lana had considered, even for a moment, going to work for someone else. The fact she’d taken the job had been incomprehensible. It hadn’t made sense at the time. “You said you wanted to broaden your horizons. You didn’t tell me.” That was one more slap in the face in a growing pile of betrayals she couldn’t handle.
“No.” She turned back to face Cami, leaning against the window. “At first I couldn’t imagine saying it aloud, admitting it, because I was so angry and confused. Then I couldn’t tell you because you deserved to be able to think well of him, even if he didn’t deserve it. We both thought the sun rose and set with Dad. He wasn’t around as much as we’d have liked, and now we know why, but he loved us, talked to us, cheered us on through everything. I didn’t want to take that away from you.”
Didn’t want to take it away from her. What was she, a freakin’ china doll? Cami’s hands clenched and she set them on her lap, fighting to stay calm. She needed all the answers before she let herself blow up. “What changed your mind? You came back to work for him.”
“It was seeing him with Mom when she was sick. He sat by her bedside, hardly ever left it for anything, doted and took care of her, loved her.” Lana lifted a hand, shook her head. “No, it didn’t make what he did right. Things between us were never the same again. I didn’t want them to be—I couldn’t trust him anymore. There’s no excuse good enough for him to step out on her, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive him for everything he gave to those other women when he should have given it to Mom.”
Cami took in the explanation, considered and felt more knotted up inside. “So why are you telling me now?” She wished she didn’t know—the last thing she wanted was to be angry at Lana as well. She needed someone she could trust, turn to when everything else was falling down around her.
Lana walked over, picking up Cami’s hand. “Because I think sometimes you hold yourself back from the others.” She gestured with her head to indicate the women downstairs still kicking up noise and confusion. “Because you still blame them, not for being born, but for knowing something so big when you didn’t.”
She hurried to clarify before Cami could respond
, “I didn’t know about the other sisters. He never mentioned it, but I knew he hadn’t been faithful, suspected it wasn’t a one-time thing, and I never told you. You can’t blame them for knowing it, if you don’t blame me. They deserve better. You deserve better than holding back from everyone. If we want to make this year anything better than crossing days off a calendar, we need to try being the kind of friends with them that we could have been growing up. Don’t discount everyone because your pride has been pricked.”
Cami pressed her fingertips between her brows and closed her eyes. She couldn’t think. It was too much all at once. “Thanks for telling me.”
Silence stretched between them. “Are you okay?”
Was she? Cami didn’t know. What did it mean to be okay? She wasn’t sure anymore. “I’ll be fine. I think I need a drive.” She stood, snatching up her car keys. She needed the fresh air blowing against her face, quiet, blessed, impossible to find quiet.
“Cami—”
“Please, don’t. I need some time to think. Time when I don’t have to see the wallpaper Dad picked out for me, or listen to the music pounding through the walls. I need a break. I’ll be back later.” She snagged her purse and hurried out of the room, leaving Lana standing alone behind her.
Chapter 21
Vince walked into the small-town burger joint and got into line to order. It had been a long day—a long several days—while he worked himself to exhaustion. Still, he couldn’t get over the betrayal he’d seen in Cami’s eyes when he’d told her he wasn’t just one step up from a bum.
He rubbed his neck and glanced around to see if he recognized anyone, and stopped short when his eyes landed on Cami.
She sat alone at a window booth, her auburn curls pulled back at the nape of her neck. She wore what she probably thought of as casual clothes—a blouse and dress pants. A burger, fries and shake sat in front of her. Either she’d just gotten them, or she wasn’t interested in food, because they’d barely been touched. She had her phone out and studied something on it.
He considered getting his dinner to go, or if he stayed, sitting in the corner where she wouldn’t see him. Then she turned and stared out the window at the parking lot, her face reflected back, blank and sad, and he couldn’t do it. No matter what she’d thought of him, or what she’d said, he couldn’t stand to see that despair. His feelings for her already ran too deep.
As soon as he ordered, he walked over, sitting across from her in the booth. “Hey. Are you still fuming at me?” He’d thought he was mad at her, but he couldn’t carry it off. Not right now.
Her eyes closed, making him wonder if she’d known he was there before he’d seen her, or if she was too numb to respond.
“I don’t know what I am anymore.” She held her breath, her face averted. “What do you want?”
Vince slid a hand over one of hers that sat limp on the table. “Cami, are you okay? Do you need to talk?” He threaded his fingers through hers when she didn’t pull away, but she didn’t react to his familiarity, either. “Do you want to go somewhere else?”
“Talk?” She shrugged. “What difference would it make?”
They called his number at the front counter. He stood. “I’m going to grab my dinner to go and I’ll take you back to my place. You look done in, and we can talk about whatever’s on your mind.” It worried him, this listless unconcern. It was as if she didn’t care what happened. He’d rather see her eyes snapping with anger. When his unilateral decision failed to draw a response from her, he knew it was serious.
He asked the kid at the counter to bag his food and got a cup carrier, packaging Cami’s dinner to go as well. When he took her elbow, she grabbed her purse and followed him without argument, climbing into his truck with little encouragement.
Worry zinged through him and he wondered if she was physically sick and not just upset. As soon as he pulled onto the road, he asked. “Is someone hurt? Are you ill? Have there been more articles? What’s wrong?”
She shrugged. “Nothing and everything.” A tear trickled down her cheek.
He hated when women cried. Nothing panicked him like tears. “Hey, don’t. You can’t cry over nothing. You said it was nothing.” He pushed harder on the gas, anxious to get home, racking his brain, trying to come up with some way to stop the tears.
He was grateful his house was close as he pulled the truck into the driveway and tossed it into park. He hurried around to her side, opening the door, but she just sat there. “Come on, baby, do you hear the dogs? They know I’m home and are getting worked into a frenzy.”
When he tugged on her hand, Cami followed after him, bringing her purse and the burgers as he asked her to, but she still didn’t speak. She wiped at a tear streaking down her cheek and sniffled.
“The dogs are shut in the back yard. They won’t knock you over, no matter how much they want to.” They could wait a few minutes. He found himself jabbering nonsense, hoping it would stop her tears. He set the food on the kitchen counter, stashed their shakes in the freezer, and led her back to the living room, sitting beside her on the sofa. “Okay, tell me what happened.”
“Nothing. Nothing happened.” Sniff. “Nothing new; just new to me. Why does it all have to change?” The tears came fast and fevered now and Vince hurried to scrounge up the box of tissues his mother had brought him when he had the flu. He pressed a wad into her hands and pulled her into his chest. She snuggled there as if she belonged, felt right in his embrace. He pushed the thought away, focusing on what she needed instead.
Cami started to talk, babbling as much as anything, but he was able to piece it together. He learned only a small part of her doldrums had to do with their confrontation three days earlier. He caught bits about music on too loud, people everywhere, Lana keeping secrets, George betraying them all, and the inevitable accusations that he’d lied and let her think he was a regular guy.
He wondered what she’d think if he told her he was a regular guy. A degree from Cornell and his various business interests didn’t take away the fact that he worked hard with his hands every day, that he’d rebuilt his car engine twice with the help of friends, or that the feel of her in his arms, even weepy and blowing her nose, did things to his system.
He soothed and patted and whispered nonsense, doing anything he could think of to calm her. The sobbing stopped, the shaking slowed, and her hand slid from where it had rested on his chest to trace his collar bone, up the side of his neck, and along the side of his jaw. Her scent surrounded him, the silkiness of her skin made him hyper aware of their proximity. When she tipped her face up to him, he found himself drawn to the offer of her lips. He’d been aching to hold her for days, to clear the air between them. Though there was still too much left unspoken, he took what she offered and gave it back in return.
The kiss started soft and tentative, but grew in strength until it became something else entirely. He lost himself in the kiss, in the wicked fluidity of her mouth, the eagerness with which she dove into it. That was, until he realized she was tugging on his T-shirt.
Though just being close to her threw his libido for a loop, and the movement of her hands on his chest made it all worse, he covered her hands and stopped them. He kissed her for a moment more before he was able to slow it down, then finally pull back, his better judgment kicking in against his preferences. “Whoa, slow down, honey. Slow down.” She was not in any place emotionally to make those kinds of decisions and they had too many misunderstandings between them to go there tonight. When her lips landed on his neck and she hummed against his skin, it was all he could do to keep his resolve. “Hold off, sweetheart. You don’t want to do that right now. Come on.” He shifted back, his hand on her shoulders.
Her fists clenched and she pushed away, pushed him. “How do you know what I want or don’t want? Who died and made you king?” She stood, but drilled a sharp finger into his chest. “Just because Daddy approved of you doesn’t make you my keeper.”
“I never said it did. Gees, tha
t hurts!” He grabbed her hand so she would stop poking him. “Calm down.” But he was relieved to see the show of temper. It was much easier to deal with Cami mad than weepy or half comatose.
“Don’t tell me to calm down. Do you think I like having people run my life for me? First Lana finds out about Dad’s extracurricular activities, and decides to keep it to herself. Then after he dies I learn about my four extra sisters; he does his utmost to turn my life upside down—have you ever lived with five women? I’m telling you, even with our own rooms and bathrooms, it’s not a pretty sight. And that’s with Mrs. Grady coming in to clean up and make a meal three times a week. What are we, anyway, helpless?” She gave his shoulder a shove, though there wasn’t much heat behind it.
“No, of course not.” He didn’t know what else to say. Not everything she said made sense, but her actions were helping him clear his mind and focus on the issues between them.
“And,” she went on as if he hadn’t spoken, “Dad starts pulling strings to get us together, putting a bug in your ear about how much alike we are, making you wonder what’s wrong with me. I think you’re this strong, sexy, hardworking type who’s absolutely nothing like the last guy I dated—though you’re exactly the kind of guy he threatened I’d end up with, or at least I thought you were. He was sure I’d catch a loser in the end, and you didn’t end up being one, and Lana decides it’s time to come clean about knowing about Dad for years.”
“Hold on,” Vince interrupted, fury racing through him. “What do you mean I didn’t end up being a loser? You said you didn’t think your dad would like me, but you didn’t say you thought I was a loser when you agreed to join my family for the Fourth. You have a lot of nerve. Nobody’s slumming when they go out with me.”
She took a step back, held up her hands, took a slow breath. “No kidding. I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.”
“So what did you mean?” He stood to face off with her. How could he have such strong feelings for someone who thought he was a loser?
A Perfect Fit Page 11
