“Aaah, that was my Robbie. Such a free spirit.”
Cameron snorts and goes back to staring into his glass, and I have the rare opportunity to study him without risking his anger. He’s really quite good looking, in a brooding, stodgy way.
He’s not golden or charming like Robert had been, but neither is he unattractive. He’s actually quite sexy in a prim way, and that just pisses me off.
“Yeah. He was free alright.”
Free enough to get the goods and get packing.
“So dear, we wanted to discuss your plans for the future. As you well know, our dear Robbie is no longer with us.”
I wince and try to look sympathetic when she sniffs and wipes at her eyes with a choked sob.
“Er, yeah. I am so sorry for your loss.”
Awkward!
“Ahem, like I was saying, we would like to know what you have planned. Vic and I would ideally like for you to stay on here with us so that we can be a part of the baby’s life and well…having you an ocean away is really…would you maybe consider staying?”
Oh flapjacks!
No! I want to yell and jump up and run back home, even if it means begging Gloria to let me come home, but she looks so sad I can’t stand it.
“Er, well, it’s just that I have to start applying for internships again, and if any of the places I apply to accept me…um, I’ll have to go wherever that is and—”
“Oh for God’s sake. We all know you were booted from your last placement so don’t pretend—”
“I lost the best internship in the state because I puked all over one of the new exhibits! Because I’m pregnant! I didn’t lose my job because I couldn’t do it or because I didn’t want to work!” I yell, losing my temper at the insult.
I’d worked my ass of for that job—only to lose it because the guy who’d popped my lock hadn’t made sure to check his condom.
I can literally hear crickets chirping when I finally stop hyperventilating enough to see their faces. Vic is smirking, Margery is scowling holes into her son, and Cameron is looking at me like he wants to throttle me.
Great intro Shaw. What’s next? Drinking out of the milk carton and scratching your ass in company?
Chapter Five
Shaw
Three months is a long time to be living in a foreign country with people you don’t know. And yet it’s the blink of an eye, too. I’ve spent my time going to doctor’s appointments to stop my nausea, something common to the Stone females Margery says, and spending time with her.
I love Marge, and I’d stay here forever if I could, and I’m not too proud to admit it. Everything is so easy. I’m finally at a place where I’ve gained a good amount of the weight that the doctor said I needed to put back on without counting the weight the baby would put on.
And I’ve gotten so much rest that when I’d looked in the mirror this morning, I’d almost looked behind me to make sure it was me staring back.
If nothing else, one good thing has come from this pregnancy. I’ve turned into a total hottie.
Unfortunately, since Marge insists that I nap in the afternoon, I often find myself wandering around at night. Reading, looking at the gardens, or more likely than not, raiding the refrigerator.
“You’re supposed to eat those with tea, not orange juice.” A voice drawls from the door, and I spit out a mouthful of chocolate cookies and orange juice, as a bare-chested Cameron saunters into the room, his lower half covered in a pair of loose workout shorts.
Sweet mama. Who knew the man was concealing a deadly weapon, and by that, I mean his body is ripped and so smoking hot I feel like dying from a heat wave.
“You’ve got…”
He saunters over and gingerly swipes a thumb over my chin to remove the remnants of my coughing fit.
When he shoves that thumb into his mouth and sucks off my crumbs, I’m this close to swooning. Or checking his eyes for drug use or a body snatcher.
The only times I’d seen him in the last three months, or been near enough to feel his dislike, has been those rare occasions when he’s not away on business or isn’t staying over at his London apartment.
This guy…is so not the same guy who has been insulting me at every turn, and it makes me feel…unsure.
It’s like when you’re watching a scary movie and you psyche yourself up for the next big scare and then the credits roll and you relax, only for that scary face to pop up at the last minute and totally make you brown your trousers.
That’s how I feel, like I want to relax and see where he’s going with this, but I’m tensed for the next whammy of truly horrible comments.
His eyes are lighter, and yet they’re holding an emotion I can’t quite place, but I don’t want to place it or know what’s going on with him. I want to sit here in the dark with only the microwave for lighting and enjoy the peace and my midnight snack.
He joins me though and sits quietly for a minute, his eyes scanning every inch of my body—as if he’s only now seeing me.
“You’re looking much better than you did when I first saw you.”
“Yeah. The pills the doctor gave me took care of the worst of the sickness, and then your mom’s been tube feeding me so I’ve gained back almost everything I lost.”
And maybe your long absences.
He laughs, steals a cookie to go with the milk I didn’t even see him pour, and eats silently, never taking his eyes from me. It’s disconcerting and yet strangely comfortable to have him here and not have to constantly hide my face and try to pretend I don’t exist.
I’m so used to doing it with Mom that it’s no biggie, but now that I don’t feel under attack, and I get to really see him, I’m a little scared. This man, the quiet guy who seems to be seeing right into me, is attractive—and nothing like his lying, charming brother.
And I wish I’d met him in that bar all those months ago because, if nothing else, he would have been upfront and honest, and he would have broken things off neatly instead of just skipping out on me.
“My brother must have seen something in you.”
I snort and close my eyes in disappointment and gear up for the inevitable set down.
“Sure. That would have been my gullibility—and maybe my V card. Never met a guy who would pass that up.”
That gets his attention, and I blush and silently curse myself for letting that slip.
“You were untouched? And he just—?”
“Hit it and quit it? Yup. But not after making me feel like—”
I stop talking and shake my head. I don’t want him to know how vulnerable I am, or how much it hurt to have believed one thing while Robert had been playing another game.
And I definitely don’t want to talk about things that will, in any way, insult the exalted golden boy. Cameron just does not react well to that, and I’m too tired to put up shields against his cutting tongue.
“Making you feel like…?”
“I don’t want to talk about this if you don’t mind,” I say, crumbling a cookie onto the plate and looking away.
“Why?”
“Because you won’t believe anything I say anyway, and while I’m dumb enough to have gotten myself in this situation, I am still smart enough to know when I’m in over my head. Besides, what do you care? You still think I’m the lying cheat who’s trying to fleece your sweet mother.”