Cami veers off course with a quiet gasp. “Hi, babies,” she coos, crouching beside the pen. “Are you supervising?”
Stripe lets out a squeak, batting at Cami’s fingers through the mesh. Shadow rolls onto her back dramatically, stretching as if the attention is owed to her.
“She’s got diva energy.” Cami grins as she reaches through the top to gently stroke between Shadow’s ears. “Total firstborn behavior.”
I shake my head. “You realize they’re beyond spoiled now.”
“Thanks toyou,” she teases.
Cami glances at the setup—blanket, candles shielded by hurricane jars, two glasses, a bottle of white chilling in a small cooler, and a lidded food warmer beside it—and beams.
“This is…perfect,” she says, somewhere between touched and amused.
“Thought we could go for a quieter vibe tonight. Just us and the waves.” I grab the bottle of wine and pour us both a glass. “Dinner’s shrimp linguine. I swear I’m not trying to impress you.”
A smile stretches across her face as she toes off her sandals, then settles onto the blanket. “You failed miserably because I am absolutely impressed.”
She reaches for her wineglass, the candlelight catching on the curve of her lingering smile. “So…shrimp linguine on the beach? Is this your signature move, or am I just the first lucky recipient?”
I arch a brow, spooning generous helpings of pasta onto both plates. “Let’s just say this is uncharted territory.”
Cami tilts her head, curious in a way that’s sincere. “Uncharted, as in…you don’t usually have dinner and wine on the beach?”
Handing her a plate, I try not to stare though she makes that damn near impossible. “Uncharted, as in, I don’t do this at all.”
I swirl some pasta onto my fork, then shrug. “My ex hated the beach. Complained that sand got everywhere and said the ocean smelled like fish.” I glance out at the waves, then back at Cami. “She hated this town. Didn’t even want to see the place when my grandparents gave me the house as a wedding gift.”
Cami’s fork stills midway to her mouth, her expression unreadable for a beat.
“She actually told me to sell it,” I add, quieter this time. “Thought it was ‘quaint’ as if that could ever be a bad thing.”
A breeze kicks up off the water, and for a second, all I hear is the tide, steady and sure.
Then Cami speaks, sweet and hushed. “Guess it wasn’t the house that didn’t fit. It was her.”
We sit in companionable silence for a moment, the waves crashing rhythmically just a few yards away, the glow of the candles casting long shadows across the sand.
Cami sets her plate down and leans back on her palms, head tilted toward the stars. “My therapist once told me, when someone belittles the things you love, it’s never really about those things. It’s about control. About making you feel small so they can feel bigger.”
I steal a glance at this beautiful, smart, kind-hearted woman staring at the sky like she’s not sure if her admission was brave or foolish—and she doesn’t know how much I needed to hear it.
After a beat, she adds, even quieter, “I used to twist myself into someone else to keep my ex happy. Shrink my world to fit his.”
My jaw clenches from realization.
We’ve both dimmed ourselves for people who never deserved the light.
And now, sitting here, all I want is to protect every piece she had to hide for someone else’s comfort.
Appetite forgotten, I set my plate down beside me, then shift closer, my knee brushing hers. “You don’t have to shrink around me, Cami.” The words scrape their way out, tight with emotion. “I see all of you and like every damn bit.”
She looks at me, startled. Not by the words, at least I don’t think. But maybe by how much I mean them. And just when I lean in, lips a breath away from hers?—
Chirp.
We both freeze.
Cami blinks. “What was that?”
