“Holy fuck,” Addie whispers, staring at her potatoes, but then she shrugs and keeps eating. “Jake’s stuck with me. Even if I do gain another whole preteen person.”
“Eat, baby,” Jake says, kissing her cheek.
I glance down at Cami and frown when I see tears in her eyes. “What is it?” I ask softly, so only she can hear. She shakes her head and looks up at me.
“I’m just happy. Everyone’s happy.”
I lean in and kiss her gently. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”
“WHAT DID YOU think of today?” Cami asks as we finally walk into her house later that night.
“I had a good day. I always enjoy hanging out with you girls.”
She smiles and hangs our coats, then absentmindedly leans down to scratch Scoot’s ears. “I’m glad you had a good time. I did too.”
“Your mood has been hard to read today,” I say honestly, and watch as she thinks it over and then shrugs.
“I don’t know why I’ve had this weird mood on today. I’m so happy for Jake and Addie. I love celebrating my friends’ birthdays, and Riley seemed to enjoy herself. Everything was great today, but I’ve felt kind of . . . melancholy.”
“Come on.” I hold my hand out to her, then lead her up the stairs. “Show me where you’d put this shoe closet of yours.”
“Oh, it’s just a silly daydream,” she replies, but I shake my head.
“So daydream with me for a minute. Where would you put it?”
She bites her lip and watches me warily for a moment, then walks into the bedroom adjacent to her master bedroom and flips on the light. There are three bedrooms up here, not including her master. One is her office, one is a guest room, and this one is currently being used for storage.
“Okay, talk to me.”
“Really, Landon, it’s silly.”
“No, it’s not. Talk.”
She sighs and rolls her eyes, then walks about the space. “I would close up the doorway and make a new one that goes into my bedroom,” she begins. “Then I’d make this whole wall nothing but shelves for shoes. The walls on either end would have racks for clothes and this last wall would have hooks for scarves, my dresser, and more shelves for bags.
“In the middle, I’d put a vanity table and chair. Maybe. I don’t know, I don’t have it all figured out, but I’d essentially turn this bedroom into a kick-ass closet.”
I’m looking about the space as she describes it. “That wouldn’t be difficult, Cami.”
Her eyes light up.
“Seriously, it would maybe take a weekend and a few hundred dollars. Where do you have your shoes now?”
She motions for me to follow her, turns out the light of the closet-bedroom, and leads me into her master, opening a small walk-in closet that would be too small for most women I know. She has all of her clothes hung, and about three dozen shoe boxes stacked under them.
“I just leave them all in the boxes so they aren’t just in a huge heap,” she says. “It works fine.”
I know exactly what I’m getting her for her birthday in a few weeks.
I simply nod and pull her in for a hug. “Let’s take a bath.”
“A bath?”
I nod and pull her shirt over her head, toss it aside, and reach for her bra. In a matter of seconds, I have her undressed and sitting at the side of the bed as I strip off my own clothes.
“Stay.”
“Still not a dog,” she says with a sigh, and watches, her eyes on my stomach, as I turn away and walk into her bathroom. She has a separate shower and tub. The tub is a big jetted tub, the perfect size for two.
I run the water, adjust the temperature, and walk out to find that she’s flopped onto her back, her feet still on the floor. Her eyes are closed. I wish I knew why she seems so down today.
“Did you fall asleep?” I ask before laying my lips against hers and kissing her sweetly.
“Mm-mm,” she says, and grins against my lips. There’s her pretty smile.
“Have I mentioned how much I love this dimple in your cheek?”
“You used to tease me about it when we were teenagers,” she says as I pull her to her feet.
“Did you ever stop to think that teasing you was my way of flirting with you?” I ask as I guide her into the bathtub. I sit behind her and tug her back against me, then wrap my arms around her stomach and simply hold on.
“Well, if you were trying to flirt, you were bad at it,” she says, and bats at the bubbles with her hand.
“I was a teenager. Of course I was bad at it.” I chuckle and kiss her neck, just under her ear. “Are you sure you’re okay?”