Page 102 of Love Unscripted
Camille’s stomach tightened.
“They caught him,” Rita said. “Brought him to their leader. And instead of killing him… he gave him a choice.”
“What kind of choice?”
“One last job,” Rita said. “A hit.”
Camille’s breath caught. “On who?”
“A rival gang leader.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Did he do it?” Camille asked.
Rita held her gaze. “Yes.”
Camille leaned back, stunned.
“And after that,” Rita went on, “he ran. They still came after him. He had to flee Brazil—fast. Mama went with him. Even though she was angry… she understood. She stayed. Through everything. Sleeping in bus stations, hiding, crossing borders with nothing.”
Camille stared at her mother. “What does this story have to do with me and Aaron?”
Rita reached for her hand. “What I’m saying is this—people make impossible choices when they’re trying to escape something. Your grandfather did. And he still found redemption. He still built a life. A good one.”
She squeezed gently.
“You made a hard decision to break free of your past. Aaron will see that. Just like my mother saw my father’s heart, Aaron will see yours.”
Camille swallowed, her throat tightening.
“I hope so,” she said softly.
Chapter 17
The car had barely rolled to a stop outside before Camille was out of her seat. She told her mother to show Aaron in while she dashed upstairs.
Rita, ever the social butterfly, eagerly agreed.
Camille hurried to her room, slipped into the bathroom, then paused in front of the mirror. She checked her makeup. Ran a hand through her hair. Breathed.
She had chosen a navy blue printed halter-neck pantsuit with a black tie belt. Her hair fell loose over her shoulders. She slipped on her black strappy sandals and added another light spritz of the scent she was wearing—the one Aaron loved. Every time she wore it he told her how good she smelled.
Maybe she should bring it with her on the trip.
She scanned the room, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Satisfied, she dropped the perfume in her handbag and headed for the stairs.
As she made her way downstairs, her mother’s voice floated through the house.
“Yes, so Camille was extraordinary from the moment she was born. Strangers stopped to marvel at her. Cameras loved her. I entered her in every cute-kid contest I could find—and she won them all. Commercials followed. Then bit parts…”
“Mama, please. Don’t bore Aaron!” Camille said with an embarrassed laugh as she entered the living room.
“Oh he’s not bored at all, are you?” Rita laughed, turning to him.
But when Camille glanced at Aaron she noticed two things in quick succession.
Aaron was staring at the floor while her mother rattled on. Slowly nodding. As though absorbing something. As though piecing something together.
