As I look around my kitchen, I realize not only did he cook and order my groceries, but he’s cleaned it as well. The stainless steel fridge gleams, so clean that if I walked up to it, I’d be able to see my reflection. The counters shine underneath the lights.
Did I get sick and enter some parallel universe? Why’s he being so nice?
When he’s got the pot cleaned and drying on my drying rack, he wipes his hands on a towel and turns toward me. “Time for you to lie back down.”
“I have a fever—I’m not dying. I don’t have to lie down.”
“Do you have to argue with me about everything?” This time, there’s a slight smile on his lips. Like his question is playful.
“Well, we made it a couple of hours without fighting. At least we set a new record for ourselves.”
“You were sleeping for most of it.”
I shake my head at him, not bothering to hide my grin. God. I think I really like this guy.
“Come on, Kitty,” I call, tapping my thigh to get her to follow me. “Let’s leave him behind and go lie down.”
“So you actually do follow directions.” His voice comes from right behind me as he follows me back to my room.
I climb into bed, watching Camden scratch at Kitty’s ears as she looks up at him like he’s her favorite person ever.
“You know, it’s annoying that I rescued her and have taken care of her for months now, and you give her one belly rub and she’s completely in love with you.”
He sits down on the floor with her, a sight I never expected to see, and lets her climb into his lap. “I’ve heard I have impeccable charm.”
I scoff, pulling the blankets to my chin. “You’re the least charming person I know.”
He holds a hand to his chest, pretending that my words hurt him. “I’m going to change your mind about me, shortcake.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
33
CAMDEN
“What did you want to be when you grew up?” Pippa asks, sitting back and leaning her body against her sectional. Her legs are outstretched, her fuzzy socks with bright pink hearts resting against my thigh. We sit on her living room floor, Supermarket Stakeout playing in the background as we eat straight from an open pizza box between us.
“Do you really want to know my answer to that?” I take another bite of my own slice. I had to slip away for two hours when Pippa took her second nap of the day to finish some work at the gallery, but before I left, she requested I pick up pizza from a place named Crusty’s Pizza Parlor. When I asked why she wanted it from this specific place, she’d answered it was something her family used to do when someone was recovering from being sick. They’d order pizza when they were on the mend. It was her mom’s way of making sure the kids didn’t milk their sickness for all its worth and try to get extra sick days from school.
“Of course I want to know the answer. Did you want to be an astronaut, or were you dead set on selling other people’s art from a young age?”
I chew the pizza. Despite the cheesy—no pun intended—name for the pizza place, the pizza is actually phenomenal. It’s far greasier than I typically choose to eat, but I like indulging. I like breaking my own rules for her—even if it’s just in the form of opting for something not high in nutritional value for the night because pizza excited her, and I like to see her happy.
“My answer might be far more depressing than you like, shortcake,” I answer honestly. My childhood wasn’t terrible in the way that some others deal with. But it wasn’t happy. I didn’t know a parent’s love. And even though I got every material thing I could’ve ever wanted, I didn’t get the one thing I needed—for my parents to actually love and care about me.
“Tell me anyway?” She sets her pizza slice down and leans forward, hanging on to whatever I’m about to say.
“To be honest, I didn’t look to my future imagining a career. I just pictured myself away from my parents, doing something that would upset them because I felt like that was just a little slice of karma.”
“So you never had an outrageous childhood aspiration? Like becoming a marine biologist or a knight or something?”
I shake my head, running my palms along her shins. She changed into a pair of leggings, creating a thin barrier of fabric between us. “I was forced to be a tiny adult as a child. I didn’t have a childhood. I was dressed in tuxes by the time I was two and was scolded if I got something like paint or a splatter of ketchup on the expensive fabric. I was placed in art classes from the moment I could hold a pencil. My tutors didn’t believe in childhood play. I didn’t know what it was like to have adolescent dreams.”