through his hair as I approach.
“Hey, Babe. Billy said to come pick him up at your job,” Camden says. “What’s the job thing about?”
My insides knot. Charlie did this. I’m trying to protect her, and she’s desperate to take me down.
“I told you that I’ve been helping a friend,” I say. “Elle needed a hand getting her business up and running.”
His shoulders tighten. “Like the letter L?”
My face scrunches as I try not to laugh. “No, like the name, Elle.”
He stares at me, confused.
“Like Ella, but no A,” I explain.
“Oh, right,” he says, loosening his shoulders a bit as he peers through the windows of the wine bar.
I bury myself into his side and wait for him to wrap me in his arms. When it takes longer than I expect, my stomach riles—Charlie is watching. The walls are floor-to-ceiling windows.
He finally slides his hands over my back and kisses my head. My nerves settle, our audience still aware of our actions. He’s mine. Why can’t Charlie wipe that look off her face?
An urge washes over me. It’s hormones, maybe, but mostly, it’s a desire to crush her self-centered tush. I yank the collar of his shirt, and he reluctantly brings his lips to mine, then softens into me as the make-out session begins to turn him on.
He pulls away and puts his lips near my ear. “When will you be home tonight?”
“Around nine,” I say, enjoying his attention.
“I can’t wait.” He pecks my cheek and then steps back.
“Hey, Olivia,” a man’s voice calls from behind Camden.
He stiffens again, and spins, putting his arm over my shoulder, revealing Zane.
“Oh, hi, Zane,” I answer, grinning, mostly for Camden’s renewed possessiveness. “This is my husband, Camden.”
Zane hesitates, then extends his right arm.
“Hey, man. Nice to meet you,” Camden says, shaking his hand.
“You look familiar,” Zane says.
“Maybe you’ve seen me around.”
“Maybe,” Zane says, his eyes falling on me. “Is Elle inside?”
I nod, and he smiles at us. He starts to walk away, then stops, looking at Camden. “Good to meet you. We should have you both for dinner sometime soon.”
When Zane’s out of earshot, Camden pulls my chest to his. He slides a thumb over my cheek and stops on my bottom lip. My skin tingles from his touch. Warmth spreads through my pelvis. It must be hormones.
“Uncle Jared asked me to tell you he’s looking forward to Christmas Eve dinner,” he says, a hint of a question in his tone.
I stiffen, all my desire for Camden disintegrating.
“Did we have plans?” he asks, pushing the topic.
I step back, trying to shake off the impending doom wrapping around me like a noose.
“Yeah, sorry. I ran into him the other day,” I say, my voice strained. “He asked what we were doing, and he seemed lonely, so I invited him.”
“I didn’t want people over for the holidays.” His words are cold. “You know I don’t do Christmas.”
Bumps rise across my arms as a chill crosses my spine, but the rest of me heats up.
“He was looking forward to spending the holiday with you,” I answer, hoping I project an innocent need to connect two family members. “I couldn’t tell him no.”
He takes my hand, nodding.
“I better get back inside and see if Elle needs anything.” I give his hand a quick, reassuring squeeze and go back inside.
A few minutes later, when Camden and Billy rip out of the parking lot in Camden’s Maserati, I return to my station inside, this time taking a swig of the wine. An instant regret, as my stomach turns in distaste.
I beeline for the bathroom, but the handle doesn’t budge when I yank on it.
Frantically knocking, I call, “Hello?”
Obviously, someone’s inside if the door is locked, but I need whoever it is to hurry it up.
“Yeah.” A familiar voice answers.
“Elle, let me in. I’m going to be sick,” I say frantically.
The lock clicks, and I fling the door open, rushing to the toilet. As I do, the nausea dissipates. Thank God. Still unable to trust my body, I remain bent over the toilet, my hands planted firmly on the floor.
“What are you doing in here?” I ask, sounding out of breath.
“Upset stomach,” Elle answers.
I look up from the toilet bowl and stare at her. She’s lying. I can smell everything right now.
“Okay, I just needed some time to myself,” she confesses, reading me like a book.
“Zane’s out there waiting for you.”
She peeks over her shoulder at the door. “Zane?”
“Yeah. I saw him outside when I was talking to Camden.”
I try my legs and stand upright, bracing myself for another round of nausea. Thankfully it doesn’t come. The black sink mounted under the gray-veined white countertops calls me, and I move toward it, running my hands under the faucet. I consider splashing my face with the cool water, but remember my makeup and turn the water off.
Elle hasn’t budged from her spot.
“Are you going to go see him?” I ask.
“In a minute. Is your husband still here?”
“Nope, you’ll have to meet him another time,” I grumble. “Zane thought we should all have dinner together.”
Elle’s laugh is sharp. I smile in response.
“Please tell me we don’t have to do that,” I say, relaxing my back against the counter. “I don’t think I can keep all our stories straight.”
“God, no. We’re not fucking doing that.” She flings the door open, and for the second time today, leaves me in peace in the slate tile bathroom.