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He touched my arm briefly. “Forgive me?”
“Nothing to forgive. I kind of liked it.”
His eyes sparkled, but he said nothing. By unspoken agreement, we strolled along the sidewalk, and I eyed my giant muffin, wondering how to tackle it without looking like a barbarian.
“All that theoretical talk brought to mind a question I’ve been pondering,” he said.
My eyebrows lifted. “Oh?”
“Mm-hmm.” He side-eyed me. “What did my father say to you?”
This guy was relentless. “Perhaps you should ask him.”
“I did,” he muttered under his breath, then louder, “You’re both tight-lipped.”
My greedy eyes watched him break off a piece of his honey-coated pastry and pop it into his mouth. I shook myself. “You seem very close to your father.”
“Yes. We don’t always see eye-to-eye, and he can be a little controlling, but he’s a good man. A good father.”
“Your mother mentioned heart trouble?”
His steps faltered. “She told you that?”
“Just briefly.”
“I’m surprised she did that. He’s—” Cam scratched his neck. “He’s a very private person, but that comes with the controlling part of him. The heart attack shook him more than he lets on. I think he feels betrayed by his own body.”
Wow, a heart attack? I hadn’t expected that.
How hard it must have been for a man like Shep, used to the world catering to him, to be laid low by his own body. No wonder he was so intent on controlling his son’s—his legacy’s—future. It wasn’t an excuse to insult and browbeat people, of course, but I understood it.
“So he runs with you now?” I asked. “And plays tennis?”
Cam nodded. “He’s finally getting back to where he was. I just wish he’d let me take on more responsibility. He says I need more time, that I’m only twenty-seven and I should live a little before I settle.” He sighed heavily. “I think he just can’t let go.”
“Maybe he’s protecting you.”
“Maybe. He didn’t want me to come back after my MBA. Wanted me to travel and do the things he never did. Sometimes it feels like he’s trying to fix his regrets through me.”
My mind made the logical leap. “So you feel like you’re always disappointing him?”
“Yeah,” he said over a tired breath of air.
Taking a brave leap, I brushed his free hand with my fingers. “I’m sorry.”
Instead of responding, he took another bite of his pastry. Still untouched, my blueberry muffin called out, but a man up ahead distracted me. He sat against the brick of an alley inlet in dirty clothes, holding a sign that read Anything helps.
Panhandling was an uncommon sight in Sugar Springs, and my heart reached out to him. I didn’t carry cash, but I had sugar heaven in my hands. Approaching the man, I smiled as he looked up.
“Here.” I offered my muffin.
He took it with a sincere and near-toothless grin. “Thanks, ma’am.”
My chest warmed. “You’re welcome.”
Cam stepped forward and shook the man’s hand. As he let go, the man stared wide-eyed at the crisp bills in his hand.
“Whoa. Thanks, man!”
