Page 61 of What Should Have Been Ours

He laughs, tilting my chin up to steal one last kiss. “Go to bed, trouble.”

I huff, watching as he stands, adjusting himself with a quiet, muttered string of curses.

He grabs his keys, then looks back at me like he’s debating on whether to actually leave or not.

“I’ll text you when I get home,” he says.

“You better.”

He smirks, then, before I can say anything else, he’s out the door, leaving me completely wrecked.

I walk over and flop back against the couch, exhaling hard.

I am so screwed when it comes to him.

22

Cameron

I’m addicted to her.

In a—I probably need rehab kind of way.

In a—if loving her is a sickness, I don’t want to get better kind of way.

Wes and I are in the car on our way to pick up the girls, and I’ve been so zoned out from anything he’s saying the whole drive because all I can think about is getting to see her today.

Wes side-eyes me now from the passenger seat, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“So…” Wes starts, dragging the word out. And I know I’ll hate whatever’s coming next. “How have you and the hot Dr. Dolittle doing?”

That catches my attention like he knew it would. “Don’t call her hot. And we’re doing…good.”

Wes snorts. “Okay, calm down. Don’t go all caveman on me…but just good? That’s all I get. Come on, give me something better to work with.”

I roll my eyes. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but…we’re great, better than great. If it didn’t sound so insane, I’d probably take her down to the courthouse tomorrow and marry her. But I’m trying not to scare her away.”

Wes leans back in his seat, just staring at me. “Okay, wow. That’s a lot to take in. I’ve never seen you like this before, man.”

I glance over at him. “Yeah, well, you’ll never see me like this with anyone else either.”

“I think I like this on you…you know…in love or whatever.”

“Or whatever?” I laugh out.

Wes waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah, like I personally will not be catching whatever it is you have, but…I’m really happy for you, Cam.”

* * *

We pull up to Gabrielle’s building’s garage, and Wes leans up in his seat, stretching.

“I get to keep shotgun, right?” he says, just to be annoying.

I shake my head. “Yeah, no. Get in the back.”

Wes glares at me. “Wow. You use me like a therapist to spill all of your emotions out to, and now I’m getting demoted?”

I smirk. “You’ll survive.”