THE CUSTODY MATTER was being settled in Oregon rather than South Carolina. From the beginning, Bailey had decreed this was a positive. The decision affirmed Rhys’s standing as legal guardian and reinforced the appearance that Willow was already comfortable in her new home. Rhys tried to believe it, but he couldn’t alter the most important fact: at the end of the process, some judge who didn’t truly know any of them would choose between him and Heather.
The attorneys and both parties had agreed to a mediation session before the official hearing with the judge. It wasn’t required, but Bailey advised that he participate, pointing out that declining might give the impression that Rhys wasn’t open to compromise. He wasn’t. And they all knew the only compromise that interested Heather was the one where Rhys relinquished his rights. But trusting Bailey’s judgment, he agreed to go through the motions. They’d worked out the terms of the session beforehand. Both parties agreed to have their attorneys present as well as one support person.
On the morning of the meeting, he and Anne arrived at the family court’s designated resolution center ten minutes early. The building was a functional three-story rectangular-shaped structure with square windows framing the lobby, where they found Bailey already waiting for them. Camile had graciously offered to spend the morning with Willow. They planned to go bowling and then head to the beach. Rhys couldn’t help but wish he was with them.
“We already have a room,” Bailey said, and directed them toward the elevator. On the third floor, they exited into a wide hallway and traveled all the way to the end.
Bailey showed them into the small conference-style room where there was a rectangular table with six padded office-style chairs neatly arranged around it. Against the back wall, a one-cup coffee machine stood on a narrow side table along with an electric teapot, cups, napkins and an assortment of drink offerings and fixings. A plate of cookies sat in the middle of the table.
Once they were settled, Bailey said, “Just so you’re aware, I received a phone call from Griffin this morning.” Griffin Santos was Heather’s attorney. “He gave me the impression that they are going to make a proposal.”
“What kind of proposal could they possibly make?” Anne asked. “We’ve already said that joint custody is off the table.”
Not that Heather had ever suggested the option. But neither had Rhys ever threatened to keep Willow from Heather or anyone in Vanessa’s family. On the contrary, after Vanessa’s death, Rhys had told Olivia and Les, and Heather, that his home was open to them anytime they wanted to visit Willow. He’d also promised to fly Willow out to visit as often as schedules permitted.
“I don’t know.” Bailey smoothed a hand across the table. “But I don’t like it. I didn’t care for his tone. He’s a snake, and I’m afraid he has something up his sleeve.”
A soft knock accompanied the slow opening of the door. A woman entered. She had black hair pulled up into a loose bun, a big, bright white smile and kind, expressive brown eyes. “Hi, I’m Sarah Stuart. I’ll be your mediator today.”
Bailey performed introductions.
Sarah took a seat and smoothed a strand of loose hair behind one ear. “So, I won’t waste time. We all know why we’re here. You’ve already submitted documentation refuting Heather’s claims that Rhys’s reclusive lifestyle precludes him from being an effective parent.” Anne had kept a detailed calendar of Rhys’s activities over the previous weeks. She’d even included a list of future obligations to prove his intentions and commitments were long-term. “You’ve maintained an impressive social calendar.”
Rhys nodded. Thanks to Camile, the socializing hadn’t been that bad. Going forward, with her by his side, he felt he could handle a lifetime of outings of almost any type.
Steepling her fingers, Sarah inhaled a deep breath, and said, “The problem is that Heather is claiming that you’ve participated in most of these events under false pretenses. Further proof, she claims, that you suffer from a form of mental illness. Your agoraphobia, as she terms it, has become so severe that it’s forced you to these lengths, which are not a positive influence for Willow.”
Bailey scowled. “Can you tell us, specifically, the pretenses that are allegedly false? What lengths?”
“According to this, all of the outings that Rhys has attended with Camile Wynn.”
Rhys said, “What are you talking about?”
“Heather is claiming that Camile Wynn is being paid to be your...escort.”
“My escort? I paid her to be my dance instructor. She taught me how to waltz for Willow’s cotillion. That’s how we met and ultimately got together.”
“She alleges that Camile is a bad influence on Willow, too—unstable, recently fired from a job, resulting in a legal dispute. They’ve included a video of her engaging in a tirade against a respectable businessman named Roberto Veroni. The claim asserts that Camile is in financial trouble and is only interested in Rhys for his money.” Sarah read from a sheet of paper: “A romantic relationship whereupon one party is being financially compensated for their time is not a positive example for Willow.”
Rhys felt anger flare so hard and fast inside him that he curled the fingers of one hand around the edge of his chair to keep from bolting to his feet. Inhaling slowly, he forced himself to keep his tone even. “This is absurd.” He looked at Bailey. “Can she get away with fabricating scenarios like this? Will the court consider this as evidence?”
“Only if there’s proof,” Bailey said, but the statement seemed to be directed toward Anne.
Rhys turned toward his sister, who’d gone very, very pale. At that moment, he realized how uncharacteristically silent she’d been considering the accusation.
Bailey, who was thinking much quicker than Rhys at this point, said, “Sarah, we do not know where Heather has come up with these allegations. Can you give us a private moment to discuss?”
Sarah stood. “Of course.”
Several seconds of silence ensued after she left the room. Finally, Anne held Rhys’s stare and said, “I have no idea how she could have found out. I didn’t tell a single person. Not even Mom.”
“Anne, you did this?” Rhys’s blood went cold as his hot anger chilled to shock. Camile had agreed to this? He forced himself to think about the timeline. How Camile had told him she wasn’t interested in a relationship, how her life was a mess, and she needed to get it in order. He’d believed her. Then he hadn’t, or more to the point, he’d believed she’d reconsidered. Because suddenly she was asking him to go to the chowder contest... One outing followed another, and he’d been too happy, too confident, too much in love to be suspicious of her change of heart. The fact was she hadn’t changed her mind. Anne was paying her to spend time with him, to be nice to him, her socially challenged brother who couldn’t make friends on his own. Who’d never been able to find a woman who truly loved him. Why had he believed that he’d suddenly, miraculously managed that feat now? Especially with a woman he’d treated badly in the past.
“Rhys,” Anne’s tone was pleading, “I’m so sorry. I thought I was helping. I was helping. Camile has been nothing but good for you. They’ve twisted this in the ugliest way. I never—”
Rhys wasn’t interested in excuses or apologies. “When did you hire her?” he interrupted.
“The day after the wine tasting. We’d been at the scavenger hunt the day before. You were so relaxed and having fun and then she saved you from that fight. Then, at the wine tasting, she saved you again. I could see the effect she was having on you, and I thought if only she could be with you all the time. You are a different person when you’re with her, in public anyway. Then Bailey mentioned the advantage of having a steady girlfriend. That’s when I came up with the idea—”
He was right. About all of it. “You suggested this, and I distinctly told you no.”
“No, think for a second. I suggested you date her, and you all but said you’d like to, but that you wouldn’t use her in that way. I thought if she dated you, then we’d both get what we wanted.”
“And you had to pay her?” Bailey interjected, frowning at Anne. To Rhys, she said, “I’m sorry. I thought she liked you.”
“She does like him! I paid her because it was the only way she could afford to do it. My list was vast and time-consuming, and I wanted it done right. She was working almost every night. She quit one of her jobs and had to cut way back on her hours at the others, so I compensated her for that loss so she could pay her rent. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” Bailey repeated the words on a burst of laughter that didn’t possess even a trace of amusement. She dipped her head down and squeezed the bridge of her nose. “And you didn’t think to mention this to me? That you’d hired Rhys a companion, that you’d purchased him a friend? Worse than a friend—a girlfriend. You realize how this appears, right?”
An ache had started right in the center of Rhys’s chest, and now it hurt to breathe. It hurt even more to think. He’d been such an idiot to believe he’d finally found a woman who loved him. And Camile of all women. He should have known better. She was so outgoing. Everyone liked her. Why would she want to be with a man who was the exact opposite? A man who regularly said and did the wrong things? Someone she had to extricate from embarrassing situations?
Why did this have to happen with her? The only woman who’d ever held his heart in her hand? He’d given it to her willingly and she’d crushed it. Rhys felt the fragile fantasy he’d been building in his mind come crashing down around him, his hope for something approaching a normal life disintegrating right along with his happiness.
“Or me?” Rhys added. “Why didn’t you tell me, Anne?”
“I didn’t tell anyone because no one was supposed to find out!”
“I CAN’T FIRE HER, Rhys,” Anne said as they walked across the parking lot toward his car. “And you can’t break up with her.”
There was no breaking up to do, Rhys thought, not when they’d never really been together. Not in an honest sense. There was only letting her know that she didn’t need to pretend anymore. No doubt, she’d be relieved.
When he didn’t answer, Anne went on, “You heard Bailey—it will seem even worse if you split up now. If you suddenly stop seeing Camile and prevent her from spending time with Willow, it will look like you were guilty and got caught. Or give the impression that you think she’s a bad example for Willow.”
Rhys cast her a meaningful glare and unlocked the doors.
They climbed inside and Anne kept talking. “Glare at me all you want—you know I’m right. I admit I royally screwed up here. Now we have to figure out a way to fix it.”
There was no fixing this where Rhys and Camile were concerned. He’d acquiesce for Willow’s sake, for the short term. He didn’t see any other way around it.
“This is not her fault—you do know that, right? This was my idea.”
He did know that, but the facts didn’t change her feelings; she’d spent time with him for money. Maybe it was payback for him not remembering their date? He couldn’t imagine her being that cold. Then again, he could never have imagined this at all. At the very least, it was karma.
“Are you going to talk to me? What are you going to tell her?”
He put the key into the ignition and looked at his sister. “The truth, Anne. I’m going to tell her the truth because that’s what I do.”
WILLOW DREW HER arm back and chucked the tattered tennis ball down the beach. Marion, Nina’s border collie, took off after it in a sprint that suggested the fate of humanity was on the line. The dog gave new meaning to the word intensity.
“This dog is amazing!” Willow gushed.
Camile exchanged smiles with Nina. Her sister had called this morning, and when Camile had revealed her plans for the day, she’d suggested they meet on the beach. Now that berry season had wound down, it was easier for her to get away from the farm, and she’d been taking advantage.
“She is pretty spectacular,” Nina agreed.
A triumphant Marion dropped the ball at Willow’s feet. She reached down and scooped it up. The dog backed away, brown eyes zeroed intently on Willow as she zigzagged through the sand trying to anticipate which direction it would fly. Ready to save the world one fetch of the ball at a time.
“I would love to have a dog—or a cat. Uncle Rhys likes cats.”
Of course he does, Camile thought. Cats were quiet and deliberate and independent like him. “Have you talked to him about it?” Camile asked.
“Yes. He says we should adopt two cats from Lucky Cats, one for each of us.” Willow grinned.
“Sounds like a good idea to me.”
“He hasn’t said it, but I know he’s waiting until after the hearing.”
Nina’s phone rang. “Sorry, I need to take this. I’m trying to find a new supplier for my fertilizer.” She stood and headed up the beach out of the wind.
Willow went on, “Aunt Heather doesn’t like animals, so if I have to live with her, I won’t get either.”
Camile so badly wanted to ask the question, but didn’t think it was her place.
Willow saved her from having to by saying, “I wish Aunt Heather would listen to me. I love her, I do. But me and Uncle Rhys, we have this...bond. We’re sort of the same, like my dad and I were. No one understands me like he does, do you know what I mean?”
“I do,” Camile said. “It’s the best feeling in the world when another person understands you and accepts everything about you.”
“Right? Aunt Heather keeps saying that I should stay in South Carolina where all my new friends are, and Mom’s family lives, but Pomona is just a place. Now that Mom is gone, it hurts me to be there. Portland isn’t that far away from Pacific Cove and I still have my old friends there.” Camile knew Willow had lived in Portland when her dad was still alive. Vanessa had moved back to South Carolina with her parents after Evan’s death. “Pacific Cove already feels like home. I love it here so much. I love the ocean.”
“And you’ve told your aunt all this?”
“I’ve tried.” Willow sighed deeply, and the sound was filled with so much anguish Camile dug her toes into the sand to keep from going to her and wrapping her in a hug. “She just says that once I’m hers, she’ll redo my bedroom and get me a computer and anything else I want. She keeps talking about how we’ll go to Hawaii for Christmas and Mexico for spring break. I don’t want to go to Hawaii or Mexico. I don’t like the heat. I don’t like that about South Carolina, either. Look at my skin! Just like Aunt Anne, I fry like an egg in the sun. I want to go skiing with Uncle Rhys and Aunt Anne and Grandpa and Grandma McGrath for Christmas. And you, too, I hope. Do you know how to ski?”
“I do. I love to ski,” Camile answered while Heather’s words from the night of the cotillion rushed through her with the force of a tidal wave. Everything that Vanessa had should be mine. Rhys has enough. He shouldn’t get this, too. The statement hadn’t made much sense at the time; she’d written it off to emotion. Camile analyzed it now and wondered just what, specifically how much, was included with custody of Willow? How could she find out? She would need help. Funny how it didn’t feel quite so difficult to ask for help when it benefited someone else.
Picking up her phone, she texted Harper: Remember when you told me to ask if there was anything you could do to help?
Harper responded immediately: Name it. Whatever you need.
Camile believed her, and she treasured the feeling. Laura would have demanded to know what she needed and given her unsolicited advice before agreeing. Rhys’s assertion about Laura flashed through her mind. She pushed it away and messaged Harper again: Can you drop by my apartment tonight after class? Evening ballet classes for advanced students had started up again.
I’ll be there by 8:15.
RHYS AND ANNE had been home for about twenty minutes when Camile returned with Willow. Rhys engineered a plan that allowed him to talk to Camile alone. Anne didn’t like it, but she agreed. She intercepted Willow on the way inside the house, commandeering her to ride along into town to pick up a pizza for dinner.
Rhys stood in the kitchen and watched Camile enter the front door and cross the spacious living room toward him. Frustrating, that he still couldn’t control his emotions. Knowing what Camile had done, that her feelings were contrived, should have been enough to shut his off. It wasn’t. Not even close.
The coming days until the hearing were going to be torture. Her skin had that sun-kissed glow, and she’d pulled her tousled hair back into a messy braid. The moss-green sundress she wore made her eyes glitter like a set of matching emeralds. Her tentative smile, full of concern and what he would have previously mistaken for genuine affection, was nearly his undoing. Everything about her was beautiful. Except for her dishonesty, he reminded himself. As far as he was concerned, that was the ugliest trait a person could possess.
She’d just reached him, was coming in for a hug when he spoke. “I’ll double what Anne was paying you if you continue our pretend relationship until the custody hearing.”
With a quiet swoosh, her arms fell to her sides. Rhys had to concentrate so as not to reach for her. The gesture was already a habit, and his heart ached from wanting it, her, and the physical contact and the comfort she provided. He realized there was a part of him that wished Anne’s scheme had worked, that he hadn’t found out, that they could go back to the way it was. He needed to get a grip here. That way wasn’t reality; she’d been acting. Lying. How could he have been so wrong about her?
Frozen before him, her smile faded to a look of confusion and distress. “What?”
“Heather found out about Anne’s scheme involving you. It will come out at the hearing that I paid you to be my companion.”
“Anne paid me,” she shot back and then winced a little as she seemed to realize how that sounded.
“Do you think the judge will care where the money came from?”
“Rhys—”
“The bottom line is that this looks like I can’t make friends—or get a girlfriend, in this case—on my own. I am so socially inept that I have to pay a woman to spend time with me. And I can guarantee that Heather’s attorney will imply that I paid you for other services, as well. They’re already calling you my escort. How do you think that will look to the court when deciding whether or not I’m fit to be Willow’s parent?”
THE AIR HAD whooshed from Camile’s lungs, leaving her cold and shaking. She’d been right about not getting involved with him. Her talent for attracting chaos had done exactly what she hadn’t wanted it to do; it had spilled over onto Rhys. She’d done this, however inadvertent and well-intentioned it had been.
“Rhys, I’m so sorry. I would have done it for free.”
“Even better,” he said in a tone laden with sarcasm and bitterness. “You would have made me your charity case. At least, that would have played better with the court.”
“No! That’s not what I meant. I agreed because I wanted to be with you. I wanted to spend time with you.”
“Can you see how that’s a little difficult to believe? Anne told me she asked you after the wine tasting, right after you turned me down. If you’d wanted to do it for free, you would have said yes to me then or told Anne that you didn’t want the money. End of story.”
“I couldn’t afford to!” she protested, even though a part of her knew he was right. “I mean, not the way Anne presented it, and she was right because...”
“Oh, I know. I am very well aware of your financial difficulties. I’ve...” His voice trailed off, and he lifted both hands to scrub them across his cheeks.
“Can’t you see that I wanted to help? That I was trying to help you keep Willow?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Someday. It doesn’t matter. Right now, I can’t see past the damage you and Anne have done. I wish I didn’t ever have to see you again.”
Camile flinched as her heart shattered into about a million shards of the most painful anguish and regret that she’d ever felt. What had she done? Bringing a hand up, she placed it on her aching chest and tried to breathe. He didn’t want to see her again. Of course he didn’t. She didn’t even want to see herself. She nodded and blinked through her tears. It wasn’t fair for her to cry. She wasn’t the wounded one here.
Swallowing more apologies and excuses that she knew he didn’t want to hear, she managed to force out the words, “I understand. I’m going to go. You don’t have to worry about seeing me again.”
“That’s another problem. I do, actually.”
She faced him again and it was excruciating to look at him, to see the disappointment, the pain in his expression.
“If we ‘break up’ now, it will only look like Heather was right. That’s why I need you to stay in my life until after the hearing. But don’t worry, it shouldn’t be much longer. The hearing is scheduled for next week.”