“So he’s never met Josie?” Cameron asks.
“No, never.”
“I’m sorry seems like such a trivial thing to say to that, but I am . . . I’m very sorry that happened to you and Josie.”
“Thank you, but you don’t have to be sorry. Josie and I are very happy, and she’s kind of amazing, so I’ve been very lucky.”
He raises his almost empty glass of white wine sangria, so I lift mine to clink against his. “To you and Josie then.”
I take a quick sip, then ask him something that’s been at the very back of my mind for a few days. “Have you ever dated someone with kids before?”
“No,” he says with a genuine smile. “Have you?”
Caught off guard, I point to myself and try not to laugh. “Me? I haven’t dated anyone in years, so no.”
“Then we’re in the same boat,” he says.
I lean forward and whisper, “Does that worry you?”
He leans forward, his face coming so close to mine across the table that if I moved an inch more we’d bump noses. It’s not uncomfortable though; it’s just . . . really close and feels intimate and reminds me of the day he woke up in my bed. Then that reminds me of all the things that happened that morning between us that we haven’t even touched base on yet.
“No,” he answers just as quietly as me.
The waiter brings Cameron’s copy of the check then and breaks the moment. He wishes us a good night as we leave the restaurant. We head out into the busy streets of Coconut Grove for a walk around the area, just taking in the sights and talking and talking and talking. And it feels so damn good to go out and talk with someone other than a family member. It’s refreshing and freeing, and Cameron puts me at such ease that I don’t feel off-kilter or pressured or uncomfortable in the slightest.
Then it’s time for him to take me home. The entire drive back to my house is filled with dread over what is going to come next. Because the idea of kissing Cameron is something I’ve thought about already . . . often and vividly. And I want to, I really do. But I’m so out of practice that I feel as if I might disappoint him. My God, that would be sooo embarrassing.
So when we pull up to my town house, he walks me to my door in complete silence. Me, because I’m wondering when he’ll strike. Him, probably wondering if I’ll even let him.
“I had such a good time, Cameron.” We’re standing at my front door, and I feel as if I’ve been transported back to my high school years, when I was way more savvy about this kind of stuff even if I was technically less experienced. “Thank you for dinner, it was absolutely delicious. And that restaurant you picked was perfect.”
I keep rambling on while his eyes dart from my eyes to my mouth and back again. Then, without a word, he takes a step forward, and then another, until my back is against the front door and I shut up.
I watch in anticipation as he reaches out to hold my face in his hands, stroking my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs lightly. “You are so beautiful, did you know that?” he asks me in such a low voice, I barely register the question.
But with a slight shake of my head, I answer him, because I can’t form a coherent sentence. He moves forward then, his body pressing against mine in all the right places and causing every single nerve ending to light up like fireworks at the same time inside of me.
He bends his head down closer and I feel his lips brush against mine when he asks, “Is it okay if I kiss you now?”
Licking my lips in response, I drop the clutch I was holding on the front step and grab his wrists in preparation.
When he finally presses his mouth fully against mine a second later, it’s everything I thought it would be and more. His lips feel lush, hesitant yet assured, but the most surprising part is the pure hunger coming off of him and vice versa. But when his tongue darts out to taste mine, I lose myself in the moment and in him. It’s perfect; soft and slow, and a tantalizing preview of what he could do to me were this not just a first kiss.
I lose track of how long we stand there kissing, but when it’s over, my heart is still racing and wanting so much more from him.
“When can I see you again?” he asks, then presses another quick kiss to my lips. “I need to see you again.”
My eyes are still closed, waiting and hoping for more. When it doesn’t come, I’m surprised at my disappointment. So I open my eyes, only to find his dark ones fixated on mine in anticipation of my answer.
“Soon,” is all I’m able to say.
Cameron offers a shy smile, letting a little of that unsure and nervous side of him come out. It’s reassuring and sexy and makes me fall even more for him.
“Next weekend?” he asks.
His lips place a tender kiss on the corner of my mouth, then move to my jaw, where he presses kiss after kiss, softly and strategically, waiting for my answer. My head lolls back and my eyes close once more, enjoying the moment and wanting to prolong it as much as possible before the spell is broken again.
When he stops this time, and with my eyes still closed, I say, slightly out of breath, “Yes, definitely next weekend.”
“Good,” he says with a light chuckle. “Next weekend it is.”
Once I open my eyes again, he’s dropping his hands from my face and taking a step back. I miss him already, and it’s not just the intimacy or the closeness of what happened; it’s him, which scares me. I don’t want to fall any more for him than I already have in the short time I’ve known him, but I see myself doing exactly that with each word that comes out of his mouth, with each tender gesture, and when he reveals that shy and reserved and sometimes very confident and sexy side of him. It’s a lethal combination.
Cameron bends down to pick up the clutch I carelessly dropped on the concrete steps and then hands it to me with a grin while taking the last few steps until he’s on the concrete walk to his car. He turns around once more to look at me, still standing against the front door. There are no words shared between us, only a silent question again held within his eyes.
Do you still trust me?
My genuinely satisfied smile is the answer . . . yes.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A quick knock on my bedroom door wakes me from a very deep sleep. Then the door swings open and Josie comes running in. She practically jumps into my bed and burrows underneath my covers.
With her head on the opposite pillow, her excited little face is the very first thing I see once my eyes come into focus.
“Good morning, kid,” I say to her and rub my eyes.
“How was it? Was he romantic like in the movies and sweep you off of your feet?” she asks in a rush.
“He was . . .”
“Did he treat you well?” she asks so suddenly and earnestly that I’m taken aback by her question.
“Why do you ask that?”
“Uncle Alex always says to me that any boy that asks me for a date—” She stops and then adds, “Relax, Mom, when I’m older, of course. Anyway, that any boy that asks me out must treat me well, be very respectful of me, be a very good listener, and that I should never sell myself short. And that any boy who doesn’t do any of those things, I should kick him to the curb.”
“Well, I think that Uncle Alex would probably want to kill this boy even if he did all those things. The poor imaginary little guy,” I add as an afterthought.
We both laugh but it’s true. I feel so sorry for any boy in Josie’s future who will dare to ask her out. Because, having been the victim of a broken heart by her father and other boys before him, I’m fully aware of what they are like and capable of. Add to that her uncle’s protective streak that borders on psycho, and he’s in for a hard time regardless of if he was the sweetest, most perfectly behaved boy to her.
“To answer your question—”
“Questions,” Josie says, correcting me.
“Right, right, sorry. Well, to answer your questions, yes, he treated me well, and I guess it was romantic.”
“Did you kiss him?”
“Mom,” she says with a lift of her eyebrow. “Give me a break, you either kissed him or you didn’t. Which is it?”
I roll over and stretch my arms over my head. Josie comes closer and brings her face right up to mine where I’m trying to keep the coy smile from breaking across my face.
“Aha! You totally kissed him!”
“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell, remember that sound piece of advice, by the way,” I say to her and get out of bed. “So what do you want to do today? And please do not say the mall, because I’ve had my fill of the mall yesterday to last me a lifetime.”
Moving around my room, I grab my robe off the back of my closet door absentmindedly and put it on. Noticing that Josie isn’t saying a word, I turn around to find her still on my bed and deep in thought.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?”
“What happens if it doesn’t work out? Or what happens if it does and you guys end up falling in love and getting married?”
Whoa, whoa, whoa, that’s kind of jumping the gun, and I’m somewhat surprised that she’s even thinking in those terms when this was only the first date. The first date of many, I secretly hope to myself, because I really and truly like Cameron a lot, but the thought of marriage isn’t even a speck on the clouds of thoughts running through my mind where he’s concerned.
I sit down beside her and take her hand in mine. “Josie, first of all, if it doesn’t work out between Cameron and me, so be it. Things happen in relationships all the time. You’ll see for yourself when you get older. Sometimes even the best of intentions doesn’t necessarily lead to the best situation for everyone involved. And secondly, if—and that is such a big if, sweetie, that I don’t even know where to start—if ever this became something more than it is, I wouldn’t make any kind of decision without consulting you first. Because it’s always been me and you, kid . . . and that’s the way it will always be to me.”
Josie’s smile washes away the worry that was clouding her features, and I feel better about her knowing this. I reach out and brush some of her crazy, bedhead blonde hair away from her forehead and tuck it behind her ear.
Holding her chin in my hand, I search her blue eyes to ensure that she’s okay. Once I feel assured that all is well between us again, I ask, “How about some pancakes and then a matinee somewhere, wherever you want and whatever movie you want to see. What do you say?”
“Okay.”
While Josie and I are at the movies later that Sunday afternoon, I receive an unexpected call from my attorney. I excuse myself to go to the lobby.
“Ms. Holt,” she says. “I’m sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I thought you’d like to know immediately as soon as something came up.”
I’m barely holding on, because for an attorney to call you on a Sunday . . . that cannot be a good development. “No, that’s quite all right, Ms. Gomez. Please, go ahead.”
“Okay, well, your ex has made a specific request, and if you agree, he’d be willing to drop the petition for paternity he’s filed against you.”
“What does he want, exactly?”
There is a distinct pause from my attorney, one that speaks volumes and says to me already without her voicing it that I’m not going to like it one bit.
“He will drop the petition if you agree to let him meet Josie in person, supervised, of course.”
My head feels like it’s spinning already, trying to picture this meeting between Matthew and Josie. “Wait, I’m confused.”
“What’s there to be confused about? He’s willing to drop the petition if you agree to this condition.”
“I’m sorry, what I mean is he just wants to meet her one time? That’s it? And then it’s all over?”
“Well . . .”
We let that settle over the phone between us because I knew it! I knew there had to be more to it than just a simple meeting.
“Tell me what he wants,” I demand. “All of it.”
“Well, the truth is that’s all he’s requesting at the moment. But if I had to guess what his next move would be if you do agree to this, it’s that he’ll then request some sort of visitation schedule. Then again, if we end up going to court and the judge rules in his favor, that could end up happening anyway. Ms. Holt, this could drag on and on and end up costing you a lot of money. However, if you still do not want to move forward with any of this, simply say the word, and I’ll give our response to his attorney.”
“I need to think,” I say to myself more than to the attorney.
“Of course, I wouldn’t expect you to have an answer immediately,” she says. “How about you give me a call tomorrow afternoon, after you’ve had a day to think about it?”
“Yes, that’s fine. I’ll do that. Thank you.”
As if on autopilot, I walk back into the movie theater and sit beside Josie. I don’t know what the hell happens in the rest of the film, and I don’t care either. My mind is so frantic with worry over which is the best decision for me, for Josie, that I can’t concentrate.
Even after the movie when we get back home, I’m a basket case.
The one prevailing thought is that I can’t trust Matthew with Josie because I don’t want her to get hurt by him again. Granted, the first time he hurt her was when he walked out before she came into this world, but that hurt lasts a lifetime: enough so that I couldn’t bear it if I had to watch her go through it now, at such an important time in her life.
Later that evening, I put away the dinner dishes and Josie goes to her room for the night and me to mine, I decide to call Alex and ask for his advice.
“I don’t know, Vanessa,” he says after I’ve given him the rundown of my options. “A part of me thinks screw him and go through the courts. But another part of me is on the fence because of the courts.”
“How do you mean?” I ask.
“Well, think about it,” he says matter-of-factly. “Going through the courts guarantees that he will be heard, which with his history may not look favorably upon him, but you never know with these things. It makes me nervous.”
“Yeah, it makes me nervous too. But I don’t want him to think he can just waltz back into Josie’s life and pretend to be the father he never has been to her all these years. He can’t get away with that, Alex!”
“I know, Vanessa,” he says calmly. “What is your first instinct?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, in regards to one way or the other. If a gun is to your head and you have to choose—and you do, because the attorney is expecting an answer tomorrow.”
I don’t even think twice, I know my answer. “I still want to fight the petition for paternity.”
“Then there’s your answer, Vanessa.”
The next day I phone my attorney and tell her my decision. She doesn’t say yea or nay or voice anything on the matter, other than to let me know that she’ll take care of it. This is exactly what I wanted to hear, and I put Matthew, for the time being, out of sight and out of mind.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
My buzzing phone wakes me up bright and early the next morning. My alarm hasn’t even gone off yet, so naturally, I think it’s an emergency.
I don’t look at whose calling and swipe the screen to answer it frantically. “Hello?!”
“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Cameron says.
Relief washes over me once I realize that it’s not some cataclysmic event. I fall back onto the pillows with a sigh but am completely confused why he’s calling me this early, like ridiculously early, like inhuman early. “You did wake me up, yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You said that already,” I say with a small laugh. I check the clock on my nightstand and see it’s almost five o’clock in the morning, when my alarm is supposed to go off. Leaning over, I switch it off and prop myself up on the pillows. “And it’s okay, my alarm was going to ring in about five minutes anyway.”
“I remember you
told me that you like to exercise really early during the week, I do as well, and . . .”
“And?” I ask, smiling into the phone.
“And I was thinking about you when I woke up this morning so I was hoping to catch you before your day got too busy.”
“Are you always this nice?” I ask, genuinely curious. Because if he keeps this up, I may be spoiled rotten in whatever future we may have together.
His soft chuckle precedes his answer. “I don’t know about that. I can be mean and get angry just like anyone else.”
“Oh, yeah? Prove it.”
“Well, just the other day . . . you know what, never mind.”
“No, no, no. Now you’re going to have to tell me.”
He sighs into the phone. “I was going to say that a few weeks ago, I went to a comic book store and they had recently sold a copy of an old comic book I have been searching for, for a while, to another collector. Needless to say, I was a little upset.”
Even he’s laughing at the ridiculousness of that statement. But even as ridiculous and trivial as it sounds, I still don’t blame him. I mean, some of the artwork in comic books is amazing and they are worth quite a bit of money to the right collector.
“Anyway, I didn’t call you to discuss my comic book collection, or my lack thereof.” Cameron takes a moment and then adds with total earnestness in his voice, “I called to make sure we were still on for this weekend. And because I truly was thinking about you . . . I have been ever since Saturday night.”
“I have too,” I admit quietly. “And yes, we’re still on for this weekend.”
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