Page 100 of Love Unscripted
How she couldn’t tell him what she’d been doing these last few days.
A surprise she had said.What kind of a sick surprise was this?
“Aaron! Are you still there?”
“Yes. Yes. I—I don’t know what to say, Ray. I’m as stunned as you are.”
Ray launched into a furious rant. He couldn’t believe he’d been deceived. Fooled by her Christian act. What were they going to do now? How would they sell this to Christian audiences? What damage control would be necessary?
But Aaron barely heard him.
Ray’s voice receded into background noise.
At another time, he would have said,I told you so.He would have reminded Ray that he had warned him about her past. Rubbed it in.
But he couldn’t.
Because he was the one who had been duped.
He was the one who had fallen for Camille like a fool. Believed every word. Trusted her. Loved her—head over heels.
He was the one who deserved to be laughed at. Not Ray.
Eventually, he forced the words out.
“Ray, I’ve got to go. We’ll talk later.”
And he ended the call, staring at the wall as everything he thought he knew began to unravel.
~*~*~*~
Rita settled beside Camille on the sofa, leaning in as though she were about to share a delicious secret.
“You’ll never guess who I ran into,” she began, her eyes already sparkling. “Your father.”
Camille stilled, though she kept her expression neutral. There was something unmistakable in her mother’s tone—an energy she hadn’t heard in years.
“At an event last week,” Rita continued. “We got to talking. And Camille… he lookedgood.” She laughed softly. “He asked me to dance. You know what a charmer your father is. Womenwere eyeing him all night—I didn’t like that one bit—but he planted himself right next to me and didn’t move the entire evening.”
Camille arched a brow, watching her.
“And when he finally asked me to dance…” Rita shook her head, smiling at the memory. “Still the same. Smooth. Confident. We made quite a show on that dance floor. Honestly, it felt like old times.”
Camille glanced toward the door, then at the neatly packed suitcases waiting beside it. Aaron was supposed to be there any minute. She had told Rita she didn’t have much time, but that hadn’t stopped her.
And now this.
She hadn’t expected her father to stay away from her mother forever—not really. Ever since Rita had thrown him out four years ago, there had always been that flicker between them when they crossed paths. Something unresolved. Something stubbornly alive.
Still… hearing Rita like this unsettled her. Her father hadn’t changed, so what sense did it make trying to start over with him.
Her mother looked beautiful—effortlessly so. At fifty, Rita still turned heads. Silky black hair cascading over her shoulders, dramatic lashes framing her large brown eyes, gold hoops catching the light with every movement. Today she wore wide-legged white trousers and a silk halter blouse tied at the front, bangles chiming softly at her wrist.
She had come to discuss a script.
Instead, she was reminiscing about Carlo.
“He told me he stopped by to see you the other day,” Rita added casually. “Said you weren’t very welcoming.”
