Her voice trailed off and her frown deepened for a second before clearing. She bit her lip and crossed over to grab an avocado from the windowsill over the sink.
"You thought what?"
"Nothing." She said it too quickly to convince him, offering her own tight smile. "I thought I might be able to get away, but there was too much going on. I couldn't leave Mer."
Something wasn't right.
"Cam and I have never gone that long without seeing each other." Walsh still searched her closed expression for what he was missing. "I was glad he could come. He'd never seen our Kenyan operation. You'd have loved it, too."
"I'm sure I would have," she said, her smile now honest and wistful. "Maybe next time."
"Well, did you at least like the gift I sent?" He was eager to hear what she'd thought of it. He'd seen it and known she would love it.
"Gift?"
"The gift I sent back with Cam?"
The feeling that something wasn't right persisted, squeezing around the muscles of his chest like a giant rubber band.
"Oh, the … the gift." Kerris crossed to the refrigerator, staring at the food packing each shelf. "I loved it, of course."
Silence filled every corner of the small kitchen. Even the refrigerator seemed to hum more quietly as the truth sank in for both of them. Cam had not told her she was invited to Kenya. Cam had not given her the gift Walsh sent. Walsh knew they were reaching the same conclusion.
Cam knew something.
Or suspected.
They had been above board in all of their interactions. Cam would have nothing to point to. Maybe just a sixth sense. It was too much to consider, the possibility that the person they had done so much to protect might end up hurt and disillusioned anyway.
"It was a dashiki."
Walsh's voice was hushed, not with secrets, but with regret. The African dress had been breathtaking and unique, and had immediately reminded him of her. It was probably too extravagant a gift, but Cam seemed fine with it at the time.
"I'm sure it was beautiful." Kerris still faced the refrigerator, one hand braced against the door, head hung toward the floor.
"I thought so." He needed to change the subject. The kitchen was too crowded with unspoken impossibilities. "So how's the vintage business treating you and Meredith?"
They spent a few minutes discussing the ups and downs of starting such a unique venture. She regaled him with a few of her funnier stories about their first year in business, easing the tension, but the truth stayed in the room with them like a chaperone. Cam might not be oblivious to the bond they shared; he might have even lied to keep them apart.
"Here ya go." Kerris passed him an onion. "Make yourself useful if you're gonna invade my kitchen. Speaking of good use, what's this ridiculous nickname you've earned yourself?"
He sliced into an onion, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.
"I had nothing to do with that, and if I could get rid of it, believe me I would."
"Do-Good, huh? I don't know what to believe. The nickname, or the rumors I'm hearing that you are definitely being very bad."
He sobered and stopped chopping, seeing the ounce of censure in her eyes, underscored by at least a liter of concern.
"What have you heard?"
"Oh, what everyone else has heard." She wiped a nonexistent spot from her spotless countertop. "That you and Sofie have been living the wild life. Is it true?"
"Yes."
He didn't hesitate, wanting to confess his debauchery to her like a penitent altar boy. Wanting to tell her about all the alcohol and the sex. Even about the threesome he'd escaped by the skin of his teeth. Knowing she'd understand, that one forbearing look from her would scrub his soul clean.
"Why?" She studied him with cautious eyes.
"Don't ask me that." He looked away, soaping the smell of onions from his hands, unable to free his voice of grimness. "Let's just say I needed to work a few things out of my system and leave it at that."
"I was worried." Her words were a sigh and a confession.
"Don't waste your time worrying about me."
"But it's out of your system?"
"I don't think … it … will ever be out of my system, but I'm better." He captured the braid hanging between her shoulder blades, studying the dark, fire-studded length of it skimming down to her waist, the ends brushing against the leather of her belt. "Your hair's grown. I like it."
She closed her eyes and pushed back against his fist shackling her braid. He could feel the heat of her flesh hidden beneath the clothes. His hand splayed against her back, trapping the braid for a second before grasping it again, wishing he never had to let go.
"What are you two up to?"
Kerris's eyes jerked open, and Walsh set her hair free. She stepped away from the sink, crossing over to Cam in the kitchen doorway to link her hand with one of his. In the other he palmed two small tomatoes.
"Oh, the tomatoes." She took them both, her smile forced. She tipped up to press a kiss to Cam's cheek. "Thank you."
"I see Walsh got here first." Cam's jaw relaxed under her lips.
Walsh stopped himself from flinching at Kerris's deliberate affection, the necessary cruelty of her kiss. He got the message. He knew she'd never do anything to hurt Cam. Never cheat on him. Neither would he, but he looked at her trying not to glance in his direction. He knew it wasn't as easy as she made it seem. He wanted it to be easy-for her and for Cam, which was why he would cut his trip short.
"'Fraid I gotta head back to New York in the morning." Walsh dried his still-damp hands on a nearby dishtowel. "I thought I'd be able to stay until Tuesday, but I'm leaving right after tomorrow's board meeting. A project I've been working on."
"Damn, Walsh." Disappointment clearly marked Cam's even features. "I was hoping we could hang out a little. We haven't since Kenya."
He meant it. Walsh could see that Cam really meant it. He was genuinely sorry they wouldn't get to spend more time together. Cam was fighting for their friendship and fighting for his marriage, both equally important. Their eyes locked across the room, and Walsh hated the open secret that lay between them. He needed Cam in his life as the brother he'd never had. And never seeing Kerris again, even in innocent snatches, would be a lifelong suffocation. He would fight, too, as best he could.
"I know." Walsh focused all his attention on Cam. "I promise we'll catch up when things slow down."
"You've been busy with your supermodel girlfriend." Cam's good-natured taunting hit a sore spot, but Walsh locked his smile in place. "When are you gonna make an honest woman out of Sofie, by the way?"
"Honest woman?" Cam knew him better than anyone. Surely he was joking. "What do you mean?"
"You know. An honest woman. Here comes the bride, all dressed in white. It'll be the wedding of the year."
"What the hell." Walsh let out a short bark of laughter. "Cam, you know I'd never marry Sofie. I know everyone else is deluded, but you know me better than that."
"I tried to tell 'em." Cam aimed his legendary smirk at Kerris. "I told Kerris last summer you'd never marry Sofie, but she, Jo, and everyone else thought you would."
"That's ridiculous." Walsh caught a glimpse of Kerris's stricken face before she turned away and started wiping out the sink, her movements quick and jerky.
Had she thought … ?
"Hey, Cam!" Jo yelled from the next room. "We're up. You playing poker, or what?"
"Gotta go whup some ass." Cam rubbed his hands together. "Don't leave without saying good-bye, Walsh. I know what an antisocial bastard you've been lately, so I wouldn't put it past you."
The quiet in the kitchen was broken only by the clanging of dishes as Kerris loaded the dishwasher with less than her typical grace.
"Did you think I was going to marry Sofie?" Walsh tried to keep his tone calm, despite the horrific suspicion blossoming in his mind.
"What? I'm sorry, what'd you say?"
He walked up behind her to cover her hands, halting the methodical loading.
"I asked if you thought I was going to marry Sofie."
"Yeah, everyone did." She looked down at his large hand eclipsing hers. "Does."
"Did you think I was going to marry Sofie the night you got engaged?" His voice roughened like a Brillo pad. "Did you, Kerris?"
Her lips slammed shut, a flimsy gate guarding her emotions. She finally looked up at him.