Page 116 of Love Unscripted
“Oh, my word. We’re sharing Spotify lists immediately.”
She had turned toward him fully now, knees angled his way. He mirrored her without thinking. She was dressed in a soft khaki lounge set, effortlessly put together. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders.
“You look beautiful,” he said. It slipped out before he could stop himself.
Her eyes widened—then warmed. A slow smile spread across her face. She ran her fingers through her hair, shaking it out playfully. “Why sir. What a sweet thing to say.”
He quickly glanced away and reached for his phone. “You’re impossible,” he said because that was safer than reflecting on what her gesture had just done to his heart rate.
The engines roared to life. The plane began its slow taxi. Outside the window, the L.A. sunset streaked the runway in orange and pink.
“How’s Madison?” she asked, her tone softening.
He turned back to her. “She’s great. She’ll spend the next seven days being thoroughly spoiled by my parents.”
“As though she isn’t already thoroughly spoiled by her father.”
He frowned slightly. “Do you really think I do that?”
Camille smiled gently. “She’s not terribly spoiled. But I don’t think you can help spoiling her at least a little. My mom used to say my dad spoiled me. He always denied it.”
Aaron remembered what he knew of that man—the financial betrayal, the manipulation. He didn’t ask what “spoiling” had meant in her house.
“How’s your relationship with him these days?” he asked instead.
She folded her arms and leaned her head back against the seat, staring at the seat in front of her as the plane lifted off.
“I pray for him,” she said after a moment. “Often. But I’m cautious. I can’t just… let him back in after what he did.”
“Hmm.”
The weight of that lingered between them.
Irony of ironies. Did Camille understand that this was exactly the predicament in which Aaron had found himself?
He loved her. But he was trying to protect himself from her at the same time.
He studied her profile—the strength in her jaw, the vulnerability she tried to hide. When he considered her upbringing, he understood more clearly why she defaulted to self-protection. God would have to unteach some of that. Just as He was unteaching things in him.
“Does she mention me?” Camille asked softly.
He knew she meant Madison.
“She did at first,” he said carefully. “Not as much now.”
“Oh.”
It was small. Barely there.
“But she’s young,” he added quickly. “She doesn’t attach quickly. That’s probably healthy.”
Camille nodded. “I miss her.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” A pause. Then, quieter, “I miss her father too.”
His heart slammed hard enough to steal his breath.
