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“Where are you taking me?” Cameron halted on the prickly welcome mat.
“Knightly and I want to hang out with you. Later we can head to the launch party together.”
“Even if I was fit, which I’m not”—another punctuating cough—“I don’t have shoes on. Or any decent clothes for the event.”
Lake eyed Cameron’s jeans, two sizes too big, held up by a tight belt. The stress of the last year had trimmed him down. Working on growing an LGBT costume drama video channel with his brother had consumed him. There’d been no energy left for luxuries like shopping.
“Your costume supervisor is supplying tonight’s outfits. All we have to do is pick them up.” Lake eyed him like a prize. “As for your more general wardrobe, I can help you with that.”
He shook a pair of gumboots left at the door, freeing them of dirt, and set them before Cameron’s feet.
“Say I let you dress me? Shop with me?” Lake nodded, and Cameron continued, “Doesn’t mean I want to go tonight.”
“We both know that’s not true.” Lake patted his foot. “In you hop.”
“No, I mean it.”
Pulling out of his crouch, Lake unlocked his phone and pressed it against Cameron’s chest. “Read it.”
Ah, crap. “Do I have to?”
“Cameron,” Lake said warningly.
Cameron groaned. Time-stamped at ten o’clock last night, right after he’d cracked open a bottle of vodka:
Cameron: Promise me something?
* * *
Lake: Sure.
* * *
Cameron: The launch party.
* * *
Lake: What about it?
* * *
Cameron: Force me there? No matter how much I resist?
Smirking, Lake waited expectantly.
Cameron grimaced, folded his tissue into his pocket, and slipped into the rain boots. “Past me sucks, and you’re enjoying this far too much.”
Shopping took most of the day, and when they returned, Lake insisted Cameron dress at his and Knightly’s house. Clearly Lake thought Cameron would sink into his bed again.
He might be right.
A hearth flickered with firelight, giving the farmhouse-style living room a cozy glow and warming Cameron’s damp socks.
Exhausted and still wretched from Dad’s bombshell, Cameron followed Lake’s lead and dropped their shopping bags and evening attire onto the couch.
He was nervous about the studio’s launch party but secretly thrilled about his purchases: nice fitting jeans, form-fitting shirts, soft pullovers, and, at Lake’s insistence, six pairs of Happy Socks.
He glanced at his reflection in the window and bit his lip on a smile.
He felt good.
He’d even earned an appreciative once-over from two women who’d been gawking at him in the department store. He may have even flashed those women a shy grin. He’d always thought people were more attracted to the charmers and protectors who moved about confidently on muscular legs and knew all about sport, politics, and automotive mechanics.
There was nothing charming or protective about Cameron. He spent his time busying himself with errands. Exercise meant long walks around the botanical gardens or a leisurely swim in his pool. Entertainment meant watching period dramas and reading books.
Classics. Especially historical slow-burn romances. Alcott, Montgomery, Austen.
He was hardly the stuff of heroes.
Yet . . .
The new clothes were a start, and if his life were a book, romance would soon divert his path.
Maybe as big and beautiful as the romance he was witnessing. As soon as Knightly entered the living room, Lake sprung at him with a flirty smile. Knightly twirled them both with the momentum, laughing into a kiss.
Cameron thoroughly eyed the spines of well-read books. Wood-smoked air stirred as Knightly and Lake approached. Cameron pulled out a book as an emotional buffer. He longed for that sort of love.
Not unrequited love. Real love. The kind that made onlookers swoon.
One book wasn’t buffer enough. Mindlessly, Cameron pulled out book after book until the pile reached his chin.
“Fancy some mysteries, eh?” Knightly said. Shrewd man.
Lake frowned at his pile. “I mean, I suppose there are more tedious reads out there.” He gave him the thumbs up. “Agatha Christie and Daphne du Maurier. This should be interesting.”
He’d read the classics, but it’d been a while. “If adventure doesn’t come to me, I must seek it elsewhere.” He faced Knightly. “You mind if I borrow these?”
“Go for it.”
“Fantastic. I guess I should . . .”
“Dress,” Lake said. “Take the downstairs guestroom.”
Guestroom. Now, there might be a solution—“I was wondering if I could stay a little while with you at the end of the month? Um, my dad’s returning.”
Knightly winced. “I’d say yes, but we’ve rented the place out for the duration of our trip.”
“Ah.” Cameron almost lost grip on his books and swerved to catch them against his chest. “No worries.” His smile ached. “When do you leave?”
“Next Friday.”
“Not long now, exciting.”
Lake beamed, curling his arms around Knightly from behind and kissing his neck. “I can’t wait.”
Cameron was happy for them. Only . . .
It’d be strange without them. “Who’s taking the place?”
“Isabella and John. Siblings. They were raised in Port Ratapu but are returning to move their mother into a home.” Cameron nodded politely. Knightly’s expression darkened with worry. “What about staying with your brother?”
