Page 116 of One for the Road
What was the correct outfit to wear for your fake boyfriend/neighbour when it was already established you’d be naked within the first thirty seconds?
The image of a woman in head-to-toe leather came to me, and I immediately nixed the idea. There wasn’t enough chafing cream in the world to make that outfit comfortable.
Maybe one of my long T-shirts? He always seemed distracted when I wore those.
I settled on the best lingerie set I owned, under the pink summer dress that now graced his lock screen.
I texted him at seven thirty.Everything okay?What if something had happened? A car wreck on the way home. What if his patient hadn’t made it? No doubt he’d be devastated.
Seconds passed, feeling like hours. Unable to shake the feeling something was wrong, I checked my phone again, opening our message thread to make sure I hadn’t missed anything.
The same message thread stared back at me.
I should call him. My thumb was hovering over his name when I heard the rumble of an engine coming down the lane.
Thank god. The fear in my chest deflated. Wrist holding my phone falling limp as I raced to open the door. “I was starting to think you were dead—” The smile slipped off my face.
It was the wrong car. An uncomfortable Audi with terrible boot space. The wrong man climbing out the driver’s seat wearing a shiny silver watch instead of a tasteful leather strap.
“Cameron.” My hand clenched around the door handle. “Teddy’s not here: she’s at a sleepover.” Go away.
He gave me a relieved smile. “That’s good. It’s actually you I wanted to talk to.”
“You couldn’t have called?”
“You didn’t answer my texts,” he said, his brown eyes crinkling in asame old Lalaway. Because he thought he still knew me.
Too shocked to argue, I stepped back, holding the door wide. “I’ve been busy.”
“I can see that,” he said, taking in the cottage, the mismatched furniture and ancient kitchen. “Wow, this place is much nicer than I thought it would be.”
Did he just admit out loud that he thought his daughter was living in a hovel?
His gaze lingered on the table, the dusty candle I’d pulled out the back of a cupboard sitting in the middle of the cold food, then turned my way, taking me in from head to toe. “You look beautiful, by the way. I always loved that dress.”
I didn’t wear it for you.
I grabbed my baking apron, looped it over my head and yanked the strings. “Is this about Teddy?”
“No.”
Then I didn’t want to hear it. “Maybe we can talk another time? Like I said, I’m busy—”
“This is really important.” Shaking his head, he came close enough for me to smell his cologne. The one I used to buy him every anniversary. It was suddenly too strong in my nose. Cloying. Metallic. Alistair always smelled of mint and antiseptic. “If I don’t tell you now, without him here, I might not get another chance.”
“Who?”
“Macabe.” Spittle flew from Cameron’s mouth as hehissed his name. “He’s pretty hard to miss since he’s been practically attached to your hip for weeks.”
And just like that, I was done.
He’d come all the way out here to talk about Alistair when he couldn’t even give his daughter thirty minutes of his time.
An image of Teddy and Alistair last week flashed into my mind. Spread out on the living room rug, they’d spent hours building a Lego castle together. Not once had Alistair grown tired of her chatting or shut her down. When she talked, he didn’t only listen to appease – he was genuinely interested in what she had to say.
She was never invisible to him. Never a burden.
“Careful Cam,” I said, trying to keep my voice level, cool. “You almost sound jealous.”
