Chapter 5

Life Lessons According to Camryn:

Laughter is only the best medicine if you’re the one laughing.

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After everyone in the house was asleep, Camryn poured herself a glass of dry wine and went to sit out on the back patio at a white plastic four-seater table with a red umbrella that was locked in the up position. It’d been that way going on ten years. Broken. She couldn’t recall why. This was the only peace and quiet she used to get as a kid, sneaking outside at night to breathe. Now, she felt less guilty about it. It was also the only time she didn’t have to pretend to be fine.

The scent of dandelions and fresh-cut grass hovered in the humid air. Fireflies winked yellow light over the lawn. Birch trees lined the property marker between her parents’ yard and the people behind them. The square area, split in half between grass and a cement patio, was quiet except for the crickets. She was pretty sure that’s all she and Troy would hear tomorrow at dinner after the family found out they were “dating.”

Earlier, she’d had a plan before heading to Troy’s. If he had agreed to this charade, they’d go over the semantics of their “relationship” to not trip over each other in a lie. Her family would demand details. Best they knew said details.

Except, he’d tried to kiss her. Her mind had been a mess ever since. God, for a second there, she’d wanted him to kiss her, too, proving insanity did run in the family.

Skin hot in embarrassment, she drank her wine.

Her cell rang from inside the house on the kitchen counter by the door where she’d left it. She set her glass down and went to get it before it could wake anyone, answering while sitting back down on the patio.

“Did I wake you?” Troy. He must've had second thoughts.

“No. I’m glad you changed your mind, though--”

“I didn’t change my mind.”

Oh. Then why was he calling?

“You wanted me to do this, Cam. I said I would.” When she didn’t respond, he barreled forward, his tone contrite. “Look, I’m sorry for how I acted earlier. You just…surprised me.”

She took a sip of wine. He'd surprised her, too, so they were even. “We probably should go over some things.”

“That’s why I was calling,” he said, his voice low. He was probably lying next to a beautiful blonde and trying not to wake her. “When did we, um…start dating?”

God. He couldn’t even say it without a pause. “January of last year.”

“And how?”

Huh. She wasn’t sure on that one. “I don’t know. Maxwell and I met at work.” She swallowed. Her stomach churned. “Maybe you came to Chicago for the weekend and stopped by? Something happened?” If that wasn’t the biggest crock of…

“Okay.” Silence. “Are we discussing marriage?”

Maxwell’s rejection cut her all over again. “We were, yes. But we can play that casually. I know you don’t want to get married--”

“I never said that.” He didn’t have to. If Troy ever put a ring on it, the depression rate for the population of single women would skyrocket. He would also have to be heavily medicated just to get down the aisle. “One must find the right person first.”

Huh. She didn’t remember him being this good a liar. “You just seemed like the type to not settle down.” Resting her head against the back of the chair, she let a soft breeze cool her off as she closed her eyes.

“What color underwear are you wearing tomorrow?”

Luckily, she hadn’t been swallowing just then. “Excuse me?”

“I know Baba. She’s gonna want proof we’re for real.”

Yeah, probably. She tried to rub the tension from her forehead. “I don’t know, Troy.”

He laughed. Laughed. A rich, low, unbidden sound. “Oh yes, you do, Cam. You probably pick your clothes out a week in advance. I’ll bet you even know--”

“Blue, okay? They’re blue.” Darn him. He did know her.

“Do you still sleep in boxers and a white tee?”

She looked down at herself and pursed her lips.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes. We grew up together. I know more than you think.” He paused, waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t—or rather, couldn’t—he said, “I sleep in the nude, by the way.”

As if he was in front of her, she slapped a hand over her eyes. He must have heard because he laughed again.

She cleared her throat, hating how he chronically got past her defenses. “Anything else, Troy?”

“Yeah. Move in with me.”

Air wheezed from her lungs.

“Until you get a place,” he added. “You won’t have to stay in the nut house. I have a guest room. I’ll wear pajamas. Promise.”

Her grip tightened around the phone. No one had ever been that considerate. At least, not in recent memory. Then again, Troy had always been a nice guy. A flirt, naughty as hell, and with an uber dark past he hid from the world, but nice.

“Just think about it,” he said quietly. Too quietly. “Oh, and Cam?”

“Yes?”

“You looked really nice today.”

She expected “see you tomorrow,” not that. Troy had never told her she looked nice. No one had ever told her she looked nice. She had her mouth open to say an awkward “thank you” when she realized why he’d probably uttered the compliment.

Heather must've told Troy the things Maxwell had said when they'd broken up.

Troy wasn’t being nice. He pitied her.

There was nothing more embarrassing or pathetic than knowing he had this information. This was why he'd agreed to the fiasco, too, she’d bet. He felt sorry for her.

She pulled the phone away from her ear and disconnected.

Before she could rein them in, hot tears splashed her cheeks. Pressing her hands to her chest, she rocked, trying to sob quietly enough so no one would hear while her ribs ached and her belly clenched.

Something else she used to do often as a kid. Back then, she’d sob into her pillow to hide the sound.

One day back home, and she was already crying. This was going to be the week from hell.