Hot Commodity(80)

Nearly twenty-four hours later, Cameron was still kicking himself.

Making it home from work after a miserable day at the office, he unlocked his front door and paused before pushing it open. He blew out a breath, bracing himself.

He’d wanted Olivia in that bed last night, more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. But he hadn’t been able to make himself take her. Her warm limbs had been pressed against him, snuggled close. Then she’d kissed him, and oh God, that kiss. It had taken a Herculean effort to pry himself away, mash his mouth chastely to her forehead and walk—or rather hobble—to his room.

This was all about her, he reminded himself. Her well-being was the reason he had to get her away from him in the first place. He had to—

Cameron knew something was wrong the moment he opened his front door. Dead silence greeted him.

She was already gone.

He wandered around the quiet house, noting her absence from her room, where all her things were missing and the bed was made, leaving behind nothing but the smell of her perfume. In another room, he found the scrapbook. He had no idea how she’d found his memory box full of pictures or when she’d started the book. But it caught him right in the chest to see what she’d done. The book wasn’t finished, though, and that tore him up more than anything. He wanted Olivia to come back so she could complete it, so she could add more pictures as the years progressed, pictures of them and someday of their children and grandchildren. He suddenly wanted that future with her more than anything.

But it was too late. She was already gone.

Struck hard with that realization, he decided to drink.

~  ~

Boston groaned as soon as he turned into his drive. The blonde sitting on his front steps idly twirled a key ring around her finger.

This was not what he wanted to come home from work to find.

"Why me?" he moaned to himself and pulled to a stop in his parking spot.

Dawdling in his driver’s seat for as long as he could, he retrieved his briefcase and stared at the car phone a second, half tempted to call good ol’ Cameron and have him come fetch his wife home. Knowing his cousin, he figured the bastard would refuse.

With a sigh, he opened the car door and slid out.

She stood as he approached, her hands fisted at her sides and eyes blazing fire. "How could you?" she hissed.

"Olivia," he greeted her quietly, not quite sure why she was so pissed at him, but bracing for the onslaught anyway. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I can’t believe you," she growled, stomping down the steps and coming right at him.

He took an uncertain step back.

"How could you start those annulment papers? How could you? And after that heart-to-heart we had yesterday morning."

He blinked. "Huh? Annulment papers? I didn’t."

"I thought we’d become friends. I thought—what? You didn’t?"

"No, I did not. Cameron asked me to begin them, but I refused."

"You...you refused? Really?"

Boston nodded. "I told him to go to someone else if he wanted them done so bad." He winced. "I guess he listened to me." That had to be a first.

"Oh...Oh, Boston," she breathed and flung herself at him, hugging him heartily. "Thank you. Thank you, so much."

He patted her back in an awkward gesture.

"You’re getting home awfully late," she noted as she pulled back. "Did Cameron go home this late too?"

Warning bells went off in his head. For some reason, he knew he was about to get dragged into something he didn’t want to be within ten miles of. He shook his head. "No, I stayed later to fill out a few legal forms."

"Oh." She looked disappointed. "So, he’s been home a while and hasn’t called you yet?"

Boston stared at her a moment, wondering where the hell she was going with this line of questions. He shook his head again. "Why would he call me?"

She glanced sadly at the key in her palm. "No reason," she said, holding out her hand. "Can you return his car to him for me?"

Mouth going dry, Boston stared at key she offered him. No. She couldn’t leave Cam. She couldn’t—

"You don’t have to do this," he blurted out. "He can’t…" When he lifted his face, the words died in his throat. She looked like she could start crying any second.

He felt like an ass because as much as he knew how it’d hurt her to stay with his cousin, he still wanted her to go back to him.

"Where’re you going?" he asked.

She couldn’t quite meet his gaze as she shrugged. "A hotel for the time being."

"Which hotel?"