Page 57 of A Simple Regret

“I know, Cam, and I understand completely. I’m mad at me too.”

He exhales loudly and slowly pulls back. Those intoxicating blue eyes bore into mine with vulnerability. “I still have a lot of questions.”

I swallow hard. “And I’ll answer any of them.”

“I want those answers now, but it’s getting late. We both have to work tomorrow,” he says.

I nod, knowing he’s probably right. We could very easily continue this discussion into the wee hours of the morning, and while I want to tell him everything because he needs to know every ugly detail, I’m not sure this is the right moment. We need time to talk, and maybe, just maybe, after that…well, who knows.

“Have dinner with me.”

My eyes widen as I look up. “What?”

“Dinner. You and me…and Theo. I would suggest Mario’s, but we just had pizza tonight. Any requests?”

I shake my head. “Not really.”

“Okay, well, think about it and let me know tomorrow. What time do you get off?”

I open my mouth, but it’s hard to talk when my brain is spinning like a top. “Uhh, my last scheduled appointment is at four, so I should be done around five to get Theo from daycare.”

He nods. “I should be home by five thirty or so. I’ll take a quick shower and then can meet you here.”

All I can do is stare at him. Not because I’m not excited or happy to have crossed some imaginary line in the sand, but simply for the fact it doesn’t feel real. “Why?” I whisper.

The corner of his mouth curls up ever so slightly. “Hell if I know,” he states with a chuckle. “I should walk away, but I can’t. You’re embedded here, Shortcake, and as hard as I try to fight it, I just can’t,” he says as he taps his chest over his heart.

A smile crosses my own lips as I look away.

“What’s that smile for?”

“The nickname.” I feel my cheeks heat up. “I like hearing it again.”

He reaches for me and slides his thumb over the apple of my cheek. “I like saying it.”

I think back to the first time he called me Shortcake. I laughed in his face, mostly because when I think of that nickname, I picture someone small—or specifically, short. I’m far from short. I’m five-nine, thanks to my dad’s Scandinavian roots, which is probably why the nickname makes me laugh.

It actually stems from my favorite dessert. The first time we went and had ice cream at the diner, I ordered the strawberry shortcake. A piece of shortcake, a big heap of vanilla ice cream, and yummy summer strawberries, freshly picked from a local berry farm. It was my favorite then, and it’s still my favorite now.

“Thank you for the pizza,” he says, pulling me away from my memories.

“You’re welcome.”

“I had a great time.”

I snort. “You were a trampoline for a three-year-old.”

He smiles easily and widely. “Yeah, and I loved it.” He moves toward the back door and slips his feet into his boots. He doesn’t bother lacing them up, just tucks the laces into the boots themselves before opening the door. “Lock up when I leave.”

“Yes, sir,” I tease, giving him a mocking salute.

His blue eyes heat up as he stares back at me. It feels familiar and causes another stir of life between my legs.

“Lock up,” he states a second time before turning and exiting my house.

I move to the door and watch as he walks to his property. I expect him to go to his garage, maybe to still get a little work done, considering it’s not even nine. But he passes by the garage and heads for his house. When I lose sight of him, I flip both the knob lock and the deadbolt and return to the kitchen. I move straight to the window and within thirty seconds, I spot him. He walks straight to the matching window, as if to look over at me too.

Our eyes meet from across the way, and we both just stand there. It feels like there’s so much distance between us, yet for the first time since I returned and came face-to-face with him, it feels like that distance might be drawing shorter. At least I hope it is, because at the end of the day, if I can walk away with a friend out of all this, Theo and I will be better off.