at him from the passenger seat, flashed him a smile, then glanced down at the necklace, running my fingers over the locket in admiration, happy I didn’t let Andrew ruin my entire time with Gavin. "This is the best gift anyone has ever given me. I couldn't have asked for a better time."
"Whatever you say," he replied in disbelief. "Let's see. You sliced your finger open, you cried the whole night, you starved, and to top it off, you missed the new Depp flick I know you were dying to see. I think you could've had a better time." He stretched his arm across the console to rub my neck as we continued to make our way back to my place.
"Gavin, please.” I forced a laugh. “My finger is fine. Crying is nothing new for me. I can eat any time, and well ... you can make the movie up to me this weekend. We lost track of time, that's all."
“I am going to make this night up to you,” he said. “I promise. And next time, not one word about either of our families, I swear.” He chuckled, but it was cut off when he glanced at the dashboard clock. I could feel the car smoothly accelerate.
"What, you in a rush to get rid of me now?" I said.
“Hey now, that’s not fair. You know if I had it my way, I'd keep you with me twenty-four hours a day."
“Well then, keep me. Let's go see a midnight showing of the movie now instead."
“No can do, love. This is one of my rules. You're home by midnight. You need your sleep."
"What kind of rule is that, anyway? I am a grown adult you know, I believe I know how much sleep I do or don't need. Aren't you kind of calling the kettle black? You told me you stay up most of the night."
"I'm very aware you are capable of making your own decisions, thank you very much," he nudged his shoulder to mine jovially. "But I stay up all night because I don't have to work every morning. You do. I am not going to be the reason you’re out all night, exhausted at work in the morning." He turned the steering wheel as we pulled onto the road that led to my house.
"Fine, whatever," I sulked. "But I think you should know I have a rule too, then."
"Oh?"
"Friday and Saturday nights, I get to stay up as late as I want. It's my weekend. No work. So there will be no carting me home before midnight if I don't want to be carted home. Got it?"
"Aahhh, we'll work on that one. Can’t make any promises just yet," he said in a taunting tone.
I elbowed his ribcage, hoping to knock the stubbornness out of him. He just sat there and laughed, amused by my irritation, and I flopped back against the door.
As my pale yellow house came into view, my eyes focused past the white picket fence, fixing on a dark-colored vehicle parked at the front of the drive. When we edged closer, I could make out the vehicle’s dingy blue color. The Ford pickup sat there, parked as if I were its owner, with no one inside.
CHAPTER 8
Case of the Mondays
“Whose truck is that?” Gavin asked as we pulled up next to it. He hovered over the steering wheel, tried to peer into its windows. “Who would be at your place this late?”
My stomach churned while I frantically scanned the front yard for him. “Um ... I think it might be a neighbor.”
“Are you expecting someone?” He looked at me instead of the truck now.
“Definitely not.” But he was right. This night was officially bad. I was about to pay for keeping Andrew a secret. Things were about to get much, much, more complicated. I sighed loudly, reached for the car door handle, resigned myself to facing it head on. “I know who it is. Just let me handle this, okay? I’ll explain afterward.” I left him sitting there and trudged out of the car, made my way up to the porch, grinding my teeth.
“Camille?” Gavin called after me, stepped out of the car. I didn’t turn around to look at him, just stormed up the dimly lit porch steps to find Andrew sitting on the rocking chair, a smug look on his face and a bouquet of my favorite flowers propped on his lap. I clenched my fists, glared at him.
“What are you doing here, Andrew?”
“Aw,