Till Summer Do Us Part(53)

She nods. “Perfect. Glad we’re being smart about this.”





“Ready for dinner?” I ask Scottie, who just slipped her shoes on.

“Yeah.” She stands and presses down her shirt. “Can you tell I’ve been crying?”

I shake my head. “Not even a little.”

“You sure?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” I say. “About anything.” I look her in the eyes, but she quickly diverts her gaze as if she can’t stand to make eye contact with me. Not wanting her to brush off my comment, because I need her to know this about me, I close the space between us and then press my finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to meet mine. “I’m serious, Scottie. I won’t lie to you. Okay?”

“O-okay,” she says.

I release her and then stick my hands in my pockets. “And, you know, if you want to tell your husband that you don’t plan on lying to him either, it would be appreciated,” I say, lightheartedly.

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t plan on lying to you.”

“The way you said that, with such promise and conviction.” I press my hand to my heart. “I truly felt it all the way in my bones.”

“God, you’re annoying,” she says, moving past me. “Do you have the key to our sex palace?”

“Yup,” I say, and then together we head out of the cabin, only to be stopped at the door by Sanders.

“Hello, you two,” he says while holding a football.

“Oh, hello,” Scottie says, taking a step back and running into my chest.

I decide to hold her hips, keeping her in place.

“I’m glad I caught you before you headed over to dinner. I’ve given our day some thought, and I wanted to deliver this to you.” He pulls out an envelope. “It’s your task for tomorrow. I’m also having dinner delivered to you so you can eat in your room and spend some time thinking about the session we went through.”

Scottie takes the envelope and thanks him.

“There seems to be a lot of tension between you, more than I expected, and I think it would be good for you to think about if you want to continue with the camp or maybe…go home.”

“Go home?” Scottie asks.

“Yes.” Sanders twirls the ball on the palm of his hand. “I’d recommend weekly, maybe biweekly sessions with me to work through some of these issues. I don’t know if we’ll be able to handle it during camp though, and I don’t want to put you two in a tough spot. So the decision is up to you. If you’d like to stay, then we’ll see you bright and early in the morning, but if you’d like to go home, we can discharge you around ten. Just stay in your cabin, and staff will come and get you.”

“Oh, okay,” Scottie says.

Sanders looks between the two of us, determination in his eyes. “I see the love you two have for each other. It’s clearly there, but the animosity is clouding it. Without working through that animosity, you’re never going to find the love again.” He grips the ball tightly. “Have a good evening.”

Both Scottie and I step back into the cabin and shut the door behind us. I slip off my shoes and place them over by the dresser before lying on the bed. Scottie takes a seat in one of the chairs at the table and looks up at me.

“Was not expecting that.”

“Yeah, and he wasn’t expecting us to fight over petty things like…bologna. I think we all surprised each other today.”

“I guess so.” Then she glances at me. “Do you really have a problem with bologna?”

I shrug. “I mean, I don’t hate it but I don’t love it.”

“I think you might be the first millionaire to ever say that.”

“I’m down-to-earth, babe. What can I say?”

“I thought I told you not to call me that.”

I wink. “It’s got a good ring to it.” She rolls her eyes and sighs, so I take that moment to change the subject and nod toward the envelope. “What do you want to do? It’s up to you. We can call it quits now, maybe even say that we couldn’t make it work. Thank Sanders and then move on with our lives.”

“I guess we could do that,” she says, staring down at the envelope.

From the droop in her shoulders and the defeat in her voice, I can tell that’s not what she wants to do. But why?

“You don’t want to leave, do you?” I ask her.

“I…I don’t know.”

“Hey,” I say, causing her to look up at me. “Come here. Come talk to me.”

She walks over to the bed, sitting down and leaning against the headboard.

“What’s going on in that head?”

She tosses the envelope from Sanders to the side and drags both of her hands over her face. “God, I’m so sorry I roped you into all this. I know this is not what you were expecting. You probably thought you were going to have a little fun, role-play, and be on your way. You didn’t know you were bunking up with a girl who has a truckload of baggage.”

“You act as if that’s a bad thing,” I say.

Her eyes meet mine. “Isn’t it though?”

“Who doesn’t have baggage?” I ask. “There isn’t one person on this earth who hasn’t opened a metaphorical suitcase and dumped in it. No life is perfect, no journey unmarred. Everyone’s carrying around something. So there’s absolutely no need to apologize.”