Page 38 of Unwrapped
“Have you tried talking to her?”
“I went to her room before, but she had Lena running interference.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Lena told me Camille was napping, but I heard them chatting on my way down the hall. So, yeah. She’s definitely avoiding me.” My chest tightens. “I think maybe she regrets what happened this weekend.”
“Or maybe she’s scared?” Sawyer’s gaze burns into me. “Think about it, man. This was an escape from reality, and now it’s almost time to leave. Maybe she’s worried about your future together, assuming there is one.”
“Of course there is,” I snap, crossing my arms over my chest.
He rests his hand on my shoulder. “I’m not the one you need to convince.” He glances over my shoulder as Jordana enters the room, carrying brown paper bags.
“OK, I packed snacks for everyone in case you get hungry on the trip home.”
Sawyer accepts his with a smile. “You’re a doll, Jordy. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She hands mine over. “Please let me know when you make it back to Boston.”
“I will. Thank you for the care package.”
Jordana wraps me in a hug. “I’m so glad you came.”
I give her a squeeze. “Me too.”I think.
Talia appears with Jude and Hudson, and we all congregate in the living room chatting until Lena and Camille finally come downstairs. My heart rate kicks up a few notches, and my palms start to sweat at the sight of her looking beautiful in a green sweater and leggings.
I start to walk toward her, but Jude is faster.
“So, Cami.” He flashes her his billionaire smile. “Since you and Dean are, well, doing whatever you’re doing, do you still need a date for the wedding on Friday?”
“Oh, right. I forgot about that.” She gnaws her lip and glances over his shoulder at me. “Um, I’m really not sure. I guess that depends on Dean.” Hope shines in her eyes.
Everyone turns to face me.
Bile rises up my throat and my stomach hits the floor, knowing I have to disappoint her. I realize if I have any hope of keeping Camille, I need to confront Ryan—and deal with my mother—and I’m more than ready to do so. However, some sweet woman’s wedding is not the place for a West family showdown. While I could easily call him this week, it’s a conversation we should have in person, and I know for a fact my work schedule won’t allow that until after the new year.
“Sweetheart, if it were any other wedding, youknowI’d be there.” I clear my throat. “But my brother’s the best man, and if—”
“I get it.” She plasters on a fake smile and addresses Jude, “I really can’t handle facing Ryan alone. Will you please come with me?”
“Of course. Text me the information, and we’ll work everything out.” He squeezes her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered. I’ll keep him away from youandmake sure we have a good time.”
Bastard.
I know he’s only being a supportive friend, but I clench my fists so I don’t punch him. I should be the one shielding Camille from the people who’ve hurt her.
She stares up at his face. “Thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate that.”
Her heartfelt words tighten my chest.
Jude hugs her. “No need to thank me. That’s what friends are for, sugar.”
My blood is boiling, and I can feel Sawyer’s blue gaze searing my skull. I’m sure he thinks I’m a coward for not staking my claim—and maybe I am—but some things take precedence over what I want. Even though I can’t stand Ryan, he’s still my brother. I don’t want to chance a public altercation that could affect his campaign. I’m a better man than that. He and I will have the Camille conversation in private, as soon I straighten out my schedule. I hope she understands my reasons for waiting.
Although I’m starting to wonder if I still believe in my own convictions.
Lena raises her eyebrow as if begging me to reconsider. I toy with the idea for a moment, and imagine myself throwing caution to the wind, but no matter how much I’d love to tell my brother to fuck off, I can’t. I refuse to be the guy who selfishly jeopardizes someone else’s future. Drake Reynolds, the groom, is a bigshot lawyer with ties to the press. My unexpected appearance—as Camille’s date—would undoubtedly raise eyebrows, and likely gain media attention. Ryan has dreamed of being a US senator since we were kids. As much as I hate myself for backing down, I owe it to him—and my mother—to sit this one out for now. Jude will be her moral support at the wedding, and I’ll make it up to her the following weekend, when we celebrate the new year together.
