Page 23 of Chasing Clouds

I think back to the guests at the wedding and the other bridesmaids. Did I see this girl there? Maybe I did, I don’t know. I was so focused on Camille, a herd of elephants could have run through and I wouldn’t have noticed.

Also, if she was dying her hair pink at this age, rebelling against her upbringing, there’s no telling what she looks like now. Good for her for getting out and doing her own thing. I can’t say I blame her for not wanting to stick around for last night.

Putting down the frame, I walk over to the window, look down at the carriage house, and see them.

Oh, hell no.

I’m up here trying to figure out how I’m going to deal with this shitstorm I’ve just landed myself in and she’s down there with him? No way. Anger ripples across my skin as I grab my shirt, throw it on, and head down the stairs and out the back door.

Neither one of them hears me approach, and I know I should interrupt their conversation, but I don’t. Instead, I lean against the wall between the door and the window, giving me just a small view of them, and eavesdrop. I’ve officially stooped to a new low.

After we shut him out yesterday, he and Camille haven’t had a chance to talk. I realize they need to, and hopefully he’ll hear her loud and clear. Also, if she has any lingering doubt about leaving this guy, I need to know.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” he says animatedly. “All our plans!”

“Again, all your plans,” she counters. “You stopped including me years ago.”

Throwing his hands on his hips, he lets out a deep sigh, and a tense silence hovers over them as they stare at each other, neither backing down.

Using this opportunity, I take a good look at him to try to see what it is she liked in the first place. Sure, he’s tall, but there’s hardly any muscle on him. He’s dressed nicely, if you like that country club collared shirt look, but there’s something about him that’s not right. Maybe it’s because he’s found himself in a situation he doesn’t want to be in, but he seems on edge, anxious and antsy.

“Whatever. We’ll figure this out.” He crosses his arms over his chest like his decision on this is final.

Hate seeps into my veins, and Camille and I simultaneously ball our hands into fists.

“No, we won’t! God, I’m so sick of this. No more, Patrick. No. More.” She takes two steps away from him, but all he does is smirk as if what she just said has no bearing on reality.

“I really don’t know what’s gotten into you. You’ve never talked this way or behaved like this. You know better, so shaking off whatever this is sooner rather than later will definitely be in your best interest. You know what all of this means to families like ours, and now we’re going to have to clean up another one of your messes. Enough. Also, I’ve told you before—stop dressing like this.” He waves his finger up and down. “What if someone sees you?”

She looks down at her clothes, and so do I. What’s wrong with what she’s wearing? Tiny denim shorts show off her gorgeous toned legs, and the black tank top says Plié Jeté Chassé Every Day. Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun and she has a bandana rolled up and tied around her head. She looks hot.

Her eyes meet his, and her cheeks flush red with anger.

“Leave,” she grits through her teeth as she points to the door.

“She wouldn’t want you to be doing this.”

Who is she? Who wouldn’t want her to be doing this? I can’t imagine anyone who knows Camille and loves her would want this life for her.

“That’s rich coming from you, because I know this is exactly what she would want me to do.”

I do love how she’s not backing down. She may be little, but she’s got fire in her that shows her strength.

“Fine. I’ll leave, but this isn’t over. You and him will never work, and the minute it ends, I’ll be here to pick up the pieces.”

“Patrick, for the last time, you need to hear me when I say you and I are done. There will never be an us. No more. Never again.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you. Your father will be here soon enough. He’s already working to clean up your mess, and he spoke to Judge Williams about destroying that whipped up marriage certificate your grandfather produced. Thank God the press hasn’t caught wind of this yet so there’s still time.”

Her father’s on his way? Just great. Is it even possible to just destroy a signed and registered document? I don’t think so, but then again, I know nothing about this world or these types of people. They can probably do whatever they want and no one would bat an eye. Whatever. She and I will figure it out, and I’ve officially heard enough.

“Time for what?” I ask as I stride into the room, purposely bumping into Patrick as I head straight for Camille. “Morning, princess.” I cup the side of her face and run my finger across her jaw and down the side of her neck. Taking a few seconds to soak her in, I scan over her features to make sure she’s okay, and her big eyes light up with relief at the sight of me. My heart thumps hard within my chest. Damn. Leaning down, I press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, and her cheeks turn up as she smiles.

Patrick doesn’t answer, and I can feel him watching us. As we turn back to address him, his face has shifted into a deep scowl and hate is pouring off him.

“You had better have a really good reason for being here the morning after our wedding.” I pin him with a fierce glare and drape my arm around Camille to pull her close. She wraps her arm around my waist.

His eyes widen just a bit but then narrow as he takes us in. He’s confused, just like I’m sure the rest of the world will be given our backgrounds and our current lifestyles. Nothing about the two of us looks like we fit together, and I understand that, but somehow we do. She fits perfectly tucked into my side, and I like it.