***
“Baby.”
I buried deeper against my pillow, shutting out the voice that was trying to wake me. Hadn’t I just fallen asleep?
“Baby, wake up.”
I slowly opened my eyes, blinking against the glow of light in our bedroom. My bedside lamp was on and the clock radio said it was eleven thirty.
We’d gone to bed at nine o’ clock. Less than three hours ago.
What the hell?
I glanced at Cam who was sitting beside me, fully clothed. “What are you doing?” I mumbled, rubbing at my eyes. They felt swollen from crying earlier.
He took my hand. “We only have thirty more minutes left of Valentine’s Day.”
Sleepy but intrigued, I let him tug me out of bed and I followed him through the cool, dark flat in my pajamas.
When we stepped into our living room I gasped.
Candles covered the mantle over the fireplace, our coffee table and any surface that would hold one. On the floor in front of the fire Cam had set up a picnic of snacks and wine. In the middle of it all was a huge heart-shaped box of chocolates.
I stared at him in questioning awe.
“I nipped out to the twenty four hour supermarket.” He smiled coaxingly at me.
Tears pricked my eyes and I grabbed his hand. “Thank you.”
He reached for me, tugging me toward him and pressing my body against his so there wasn’t even a speck of air between our torso. “I will never fuck up like this again. I promise you that.”
I nodded. “Me neither.”
He brushed his lips over mine, a seductive whisper of promises still to come. I shivered in anticipation. I’d missed him in more ways than one.
“Come on.” He led me down onto the rug and I laughed at the mini sausage rolls and quiches he’d heated up.
“It’s all they had. It’s not quite La Cour.”
I grinned, shaking my head. “It’s perfect.”
We started eating and I just then realized how hungry I was.
“So tell me about Dee,” Cam said, sipping on his glass of wine. “Is she okay?”
I frowned, remembering how scared she’d been as we waited for the results of her screening. She’d found a lump four weeks ago but thankfully it had turned out to be a cist. “She’s fine. We got a fright but she’s fine.”
“Next time shit like that is going down you grab me by the hair, the balls, whatever the fuck you can grab, I don’t care, and you yell at me you need to talk. Okay?”
I stared into his eyes. “I will. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
He lowered his gaze and his wine, and I waited, recognizing the troubled look on his face. “Would you really try to leave me?”
I closed my eyes, wishing I’d never said that. It was the heat of the moment, it was my own pain talking.
But I’d hurt him.
“It would have to take a hell of a lot to make me leave you, Cameron MacCabe.”