Page 113 of Effortless

“Someone, too, sure.” Camilla gave Tom a smile. “I mean, Tom’s okay.”

“Ouch,” Tom muttered.

Camilla flashed her teeth in a wicked grin, and that sent laughter echoing down the table.

So was the way of his life.

When he wasn’t getting shit from people on the streets, his family picked up the slack. Of course, Tom didn’t mind this so much. He could handle his family.

“What are you studying in school?” Damian asked. “Last I heard from your father, you had gone into nursing.”

Camilla nodded. “Still am. I have a few more years to get where I want to be, I think. Or, with all the programs I want to take, it’ll make it easier to get on a NICU ward without all the seniority that usually clogs up time.”

“NICU,” Tom’s mother said. “Why a NICU nurse?”

“I was premature, and so was my brother.”

“Oh.” Abriella frowned, and her gaze darted to Tom as though she were trying to see if she had crossed some invisible line. “I’m sorry.”

Camilla waved a hand. “It’s okay. I went back to tour the hospital where I had been born. I was about fifteen or so, and the nurses actually remembered me because a lot of them were still there working.”

“Is that common?”

“I think it depends on the nurse, and how working NICU affects him or her over time,” Camilla replied, smiling softly. “I guess a lot of preemies that were born as early as me don’t get to go back—fifty-fifty chance of survival. My dad told me once that for every baby that got to leave the NICU during my stay, another one never did. It was a big deal for the nurses to see me again, and that’s what did it for me.”

Under the table, Tom squeezed Camilla’s thigh gently. She hadn’t needed to share that kind of personal information with his family—people she barely knew—but he was grateful that she had. He’d only known some of the reason why she had chosen a nursing career, and her explanation certainly filled in any blanks he might have had left.

“You’ve still got a while to go yet with school, then,” Abriella said.

“A little while, yeah,” Camilla agreed with a laugh. “I don’t mind. I work hard because I want to. I have a goal, and I intend to reach it.”

“A good mindset to have,” Tom’s father said. “And just how long are you staying in Chicago, Camilla? Seems you have something to get back to.”

That, Tom wanted an answer to as well.

Camilla stuck her fork into the pasta dish she had half finished, and said, “We’ll see, I guess. I don’t like leaving things unfinished.”

Again, Tom squeezed Camilla’s thigh.

He appreciated her willingness to indulge his family and their questions because she didn’t have to do any of that at all. He was sure her intentions when coming to see him had very little to do with his family, and yet, here she was.

A screech from Sara took attention away from Camilla and Tom for a moment.

“Rebeka!”

“Oh, it was just a mistake,” Abriella said, pushing her chair away from the table to stand up.

“Yeah, a mistake, Sara,” Rebeka said, huffing at her sister.

A large red splash of sauce covered the front of Sara’s pink dress. If there was anything his sister hated, it was someone ruining her clothes.

“Go to the kitchen,” Abriella told Sara, “and I’ll be in to clean it off.”

Sara gave Rebeka her meanest glare before heading for the kitchen like she had been told to. Tommas shook his head as he too stood from the table.

“I’ll go grab something else for her to wear,” he told his wife.

“Thanks,” Abriella replied. Then, she turned to Rebeka. “You sit right there, and don’t you move.”