“If everyone would raise their glass . . .” Jack holds his up in the air and smiles at Camille and me. “I think I speak for all of us when I say congratulations. Sometimes the best surprises are the unexpected ones, and, Camille, you were really unexpected.”
The group laughs.
“No, seriously, Reid here is my best friend”—he looks at me fondly and then back at Camille—“and I’ve never seen him as happy as he’s been over the last two weeks. They say the bigger they are, the harder they fall, and I think the earth is still suffering from the shockwaves of this one. Thanks for picking our boy—he’s the best there is. Much love to you both, and, Camille, welcome to the Tampa Tarpons!”
Cheers go up and everyone takes a drink of champagne. I follow suit but can’t take my eyes off Jack. Seriously, what is with him and Nate? I understand making a toast is expected and nice and all, but they both know what this is—and what it isn’t.
Camille squeezes my waist and as I look down into her lovely face, my heart flips over. Have I fallen? For the first time since all this started, I allow myself to briefly wonder, What if it is real? And then I mentally shake my head, reality washing away this fictitious moment we’ve found ourselves in.
“Speech, speech, speech!” comes from someone in the crowd, and heat climbs into my cheeks. Camille’s eyes widen, telling me I have to do it.
Severing my gaze from hers, I look out at everyone staring at us and take a deep breath.
“Ah, first off, a huge thank you to Billy and Missy for having us all over tonight. Your continued generosity to the team means a lot to us, and tonight, especially to Camille and me.” I look down at her and see the anxiety in her eyes. I know this is hard for her, and it’s hard for me too, knowing we’re lying to all of them. Chuckling, I look over at Jack and shrug my shoulders because I’ve clammed up. “I don’t really know what more to say.”
“Tell us how you met,” Missy says, encouraging us with a smile.
“I guess that would be a good place to start. My brother, Nate, plays tennis at Columbia University, and he and Camille have mutual friends, so they run in the same circles. I met her last fall when I was up visiting him and my mother.”
“Was it love at first sight?” another player’s wife asks.
I pause and look down at Camille. “It was something.”
We smile at each other.
“But you were engaged to someone else?”
Ah, here it comes. People want to hear the juicy story. I can’t say I blame them; I’d be curious too.
“I was,” she says softly, turning her gaze to the girl who asked the question.
“If Reid had not been at the wedding, do you think you would have married him?”
She looks at me, gives me a sad frown, and nods.
“Really? Why?” Missy chimes in. She didn’t like that answer.
Camille lets out a sigh. “Reid and I have talked about this a lot, so it’s no great secret.”
I reach over and take her hand, not sure where she’s going with this but wanting to show support.
“And y’all might think I’m crazy, but this is the only way I know how to explain it: I was on a path to marry Patrick. Our families have been friends for a very long time, and eventually it became expected. It wasn’t just me—we were both thrown onto that path, that course for our lives, and why does anyone do what they do? For years this was the plan, and we worked toward it. Deviating seemed incomprehensible. I wanted to do my part, believed I was doing the right thing even though I knew I wasn’t in love with him, and he didn’t love me either. Sometimes I feel like when we’re on a path, whether it’s with sports, an education, or a relationship, and we stick to it because we need to see it through. We need to see it to the end. Things like failure, disappointment, and regret lurk in the background, and no one wants to fail or be considered a quitter, especially when other people are involved and it impacts how much they’re committed as well.” She shrugs her shoulders.
I think more than anything, everyone in this room understands what she is talking about—the commitment, the sacrifice. Each of us has worked our entire life to get on the path of playing in the NFL, and no matter what, we were all going to see it through to the end. Hell, we still are. We’re going to play until we can’t play anymore.
“What made you do it? What made you change your mind?” Bryan asks, looking at her.
She gives him a little smile then turns to me. “When you know, you know, and I just knew. It was time to make that move, and our story needed a chance.”
Blood rushes through me at an exponentially increasing pace. More and more, I’m warming up to the idea of us being a possibility, and deep down, I want to pull her close and say, Yes, I think we should give our story a chance.
Man, am I in trouble.
Shuttering these emotions, I grin at her and break the silence. “Tell them what you did at the wedding.”
“What did I do?” Her eyes flare.
Looking up, I glance around at the guys and end on Jack—he’ll think this is the best. “After I objected and walked up to the altar, she turned around, saw me, and laughed. Stopping that wedding was the craziest thing I’ve ever done, and she laughed at me.”
The entire group starts laughing, and Jack slaps me on the back.
“No, no, no! It wasn’t like that at all!” Camille protests.
“Yes, it was, princess, but don’t worry about it. In the end, I still got the girl.”
Somewhere in the crowd, someone clinks their glass. One by one, the clinking gets louder, and a blush creeps up into her cheeks. Feeling the need to put on a show, I swing her into my arms, dip her backward, and kiss her—really kiss her. To me, this kiss is long overdue.
I HAD THE best night tonight. The last time I even came close to this feeling was with Ali, Drew, Nate, and friends in New York City, but even then, the pressure of getting married to Patrick was always there. Tonight, all of that is gone.
The thing about growing up the way I did—old money, socialite, upper class—is that I wasn’t given the opportunity to ever mingle with people who were different. Friendships were fake, and yes, even though I lived in New York City, I didn’t really have a lot of friends, nor did I mingle with very many people. My circle was kept small, and I focused on dancing.
Several times tonight, I’ve thought back to when Reid confronted me about ‘playing the part.’ I understand what he’s saying, but that’s the only part I’ve ever played. In fact, as little girls, we were forced to go to etiquette classes, and it was drilled into us how to present ourselves as ladies. Him again mentioning he doesn’t like the proper version of me reassures me that maybe it’s okay to not be that girl. I don’t want to be that girl; I just need to find out how to be me and where the balance is—me at home, me with my family, and me out with friends.
For so long, I’ve been trying to protect my rose-colored glasses. I know my view of the world has been tinted, but over the last week, I’ve been trying really hard to shake it off. Tonight I feel like that started to happen. There’s nothing wrong with relaxing and being me, and I shouldn’t have been worried that I was being fed to the wolves. These are Reid’s friends, not my father’s, and not Patrick’s. They respect him and love him, so of course they were going to give that to me, too.
Reid is from New York. Billy and Missy are from Utah, and they are quite possibly the most down-to-earth couple I’ve ever met. Jack is an army brat, so he’s lived all over, and Bryan is from a middle-of-nowhere farm town in Florida. The diversity in this group of people doesn’t make any of them feel uncomfortable or out of place. It’s like Reid said: character. They’re all unique, they’re all wonderful, and they all have the same goal—to live their best life. I feel more welcome here than I ever did at home.
The sound of the sliding glass door opening has me turning around, and I watch as Reid walks out onto the balcony. The party ended around midnight and we’re back at his place, but neither of us we
re ready to call it a night.
“You really like it out here, don’t you?” he asks as he heads straight toward me. Our eyes connect, and the weight of his stare has me stepping back against the railing. Tonight he wore a black suit with a pale green shirt; he’s dropped the jacket somewhere inside and rolled up his sleeves. The man knows how to wear his clothes better than anyone I’ve ever seen. It’s like he should come with a warning label: Be prepared to stare.
“I do.” I turn around and look out into the night sky. “What I miss about New York is the city life, and what I miss about Savannah is the proximity to water. Here I feel like I’m getting the best of both worlds: city but small town, Southern, there’s the water, and up here there’s a breeze. I like being able to see so much. It makes me feel free, like anything is possible.”
“Anything is possible.”
“Now it is.” And it’s because of him I can feel this way.
Stepping up behind me, he wraps his arms around my waist. My hair blows in the breeze and I tuck it down to keep it out of his face.
“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asks, resting his chin on top of my head.
“I did. Your friends are really nice.”
“Thank you. I think so, too. They’re your friends now, too, for as long as you want them,” he says softly.
John Mayer filters out from the speakers, and I lean back into Reid, resting my head on his shoulder as we listen to the lyrics of the music. Off in the distance, lights from the boats moving into the port are twinkling at us. Below us, cars seem to be racing to get to their next destination, but here, next to him, everything seems to be standing still. It’s like time has stopped and the world is giving us this tiny moment to just be together, to just breathe.
“Did you feel like we were lying to them tonight? I was worried about you.”
He seemed fine for the most part, but every now and then I would catch him looking at me, his expression clouded with what looked like wariness, uncertainty.
His hands shift so they can run up and down my arms.
“No, I didn’t feel like I was lying. We are married, and no matter how short or indefinite this is, it’s like you said: this is our story, and we’re just giving it a chance.”
Is he saying he wants to give this a chance—to give me a chance? My palms start sweating and I grip the railing. I don’t ask him. I can’t. It would ruin the moment, and I think back to all the times he’s made it clear how he feels about relationships. Plus, whatever I end up deciding to do next, I need to do it for me without influence from someone else. In the meantime, I think about what Clare said. He is hot, and he’s been so sincere to me, it is kind of hard to not get wrapped up in his spell, at least while I still have him.
“Camille . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Turn around, princess.” His voice is stern, almost insistent as he lets go of me and takes a few steps back.
Slowly, I twist so I’m facing him and leaning back against the railing. His eyes flare at how close I am to the edge, my dress and my hair whipping out into open space. I arch back a little farther, tilting my head, taunting him, feeling brave, and his hands curl into fists. All the emotions of the past two weeks have caught up to him and are evident on his face. His body is tense; there’s a strain in his muscles pulling his shirt across his chest, a tightness in his jaw as he swallows, and an intensity burning in his eyes.
“Come here,” he says, enjoying the spark between us.
As I close the small gap, the wind blows, picking up my short skirt and swirling it around the tops of my legs. His eyes drop to the new flash of skin, and a shiver runs through me in anticipation of what’s to come.
Gently, his fingers reach for my elbow, and I willingly allow him to pull me flush against his hard, solid body. His scent flows over me.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are tonight?” His face is half covered with shadows, the other half illuminated by the light of the moon. Longing is radiating off him, the green in his eyes so bright it’s rolling like hot lava.
“Yes, but you can tell me again,” I tease, leaning forward and enveloping myself in the heat his body is giving off.
His mouth twitches with a small smile as one hand slides around me and settles on my skin, just above the tiny zipper of my dress, and the other splays out underneath my shoulder blades. His hands are so large and so warm, goose bumps break out as pressure from his fingers draws me even closer. He bends down, placing his mouth next to my ear.
“I have never seen anyone more beautiful than you. You take my breath away.”
With that I exhale, stop breathing, and mumble, “You’re not so bad yourself.”
He smiles as the music from inside changes to a slower song, and unhurriedly, Reid begins to sway, taking the lead. As he rests his head next to my cheek, the stubble accumulated over the course of the long day grazes my skin, one of his thighs moves between mine, and I feel completely consumed by him. Up and down his hands roam on my back, slipping under the edges of my dress. I’m shaking. Can he feel me shaking? Because I sure do.
“Are you going to kiss me?” I ask, moving my head so my mouth flutters against his jaw.
Pulling back a little, his lids lower over his eyes as they slowly drag down my face to my lips. “Do you want me to?” His voice is rough; it sounds like every dream come true.
I nod. “Yes.” If he doesn’t kiss me soon, I just might combust and die.
Every kiss we’ve shared up until this point has had a purpose. At the wedding, all the ones at the reception, even the one in the library, and earlier tonight—they were meant to help make this appear real. They were meant to calm us and communicate that we’re in this together, and they were from one friend to another. This, however—this kiss is about to be something entirely different.
Drawing his hands away from my back, he runs them up my sides, over my collarbone, and up my neck to wrap around my head. He leans forward, and I arch back to look into his eyes—eyes filled with a yearning so close to my own, it feels tangible. He’s so close, and with every breath he lets go, I breathe it in. We both breathe faster.
Back and forth, his eyes bounce between mine, and then they drop to my lips. My tongue slips out and wets the bottom one; his does the same. God, his mouth is so perfect.
Drifting forward, his lips land on the corner of mine, and my eyes slip shut.
One kiss on the left, one on the right, and then one fully in the middle. With a sigh of relief, my lips part, and our mouths fuse together like two pieces of a puzzle. I love his lips. I love how they feel against mine and how they know exactly what to do. He leads the way, and I follow. I would follow him anywhere.
Eventually, I make a move to lightly bite down on the fullest part of his bottom lip, and he growls, bends me backward, and finally takes what he wants.
The stars are shining out past the balcony, the music is playing directly to my heart, and Reid is annihilating all of my senses: his size, his smell, his touch, his sounds, and oh, his taste—so delicious. Over and over his tongue dips in and tangles with mine. I feel devoured and whole, wrecked and cherished. I feel wanted by this man, and that’s the best feeling of all.
Rising up on my toes, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and flatten myself against him. He drops one arm, wraps it around my back, and pulls me up higher. We separate to breathe, but his eyes are locked in on mine.
“Stay with me tonight.” His voice is so hoarse, the sound brushes over places deep within me, and I shiver.
“Okay.” There’s nothing in this world that could keep me away from him.
He smiles then leans forward, sucks my lip in between his, and picks up right where he left off.
THIS IS THE second time I’ve woken up next to Reid, but today things feel entirely different. His bed is large, the sheets are so soft I feel like I’m sliding against butter, and everything is warm. I can’t help but smile to myself.
Opening my eyes, I see I’m fac
ing him and he’s dead asleep. The muscles in his face are relaxed, leaving his skin smooth except for the now day-old stubble across his jaw and cheeks, and his lips are slightly open.
Sure, I’ve looked at him a lot over the last two weeks, but never like this. I’m in his space, and I feel giddy and lucky that I get to see him this way.
Last night, as we finally made our way into his room, my dress landed on the floor next to his shirt and his pants, and I felt what it was like to truly want another person.
Reid groaned as I stood before him in a white lace demi bra and a white lace thong. After his eyes devoured me, his hands grabbed ahold of my butt, pulling me flush against him in his boxer briefs as his mouth took over. He ran his hands all over me, exploring me, feeling me, and as much as I wanted his fingers to find every secret place of mine, he maintained his restraint, though mine was rapidly breaking down.
Of course I could tell he was just a little bit more than excited, but that didn’t stop me from making out with him, nor him with me. We climbed into his bed and he kissed me for hours.
It was glorious.
Last weekend, before we went to the festival, he took me to the coffee shop across the street. He ordered a plain almond milk latte and Cuban bread toasted with butter, so, deciding to surprise him with a break from eggs and vegetables, I slip out of bed and off to my room to get dressed. Instead of grabbing socially acceptable society attire, I pull on a pair of cutoff denim shorts that have stains on them from my workshop, a T-shirt, and some flip-flops. I pull my hair into a knot, grab my sunglasses, and sneak out the door.
The weather outside is absolutely gorgeous. Immediately, my eyes look at the sky. There are no clouds, just an immaculate shade of blue, not that I want to chase them today—I’m perfectly content and happy right where I am. Spring comes earlier and lasts a little longer here than it does in Savannah, and as I take in the bright blue skies, the river, and the surrounding buildings, I can’t help but think I could live here permanently.
Chasing Clouds Page 15
