Uncovering Camila (Wildflowers Book 3) (20 page)

Chapter 50

“This explains so much.” Marshall’s tense expression slowly relaxes. He wants to laugh. Seeing Camila makes him feel lighter already, but he doesn’t want to let her know that.

“Like what exactly?”

“Shosh texted me yesterday to wish me a Happy Thanksgiving, and then again today to check on me. She peppered me with some detailed questions, which seemed odd but nothing out of the ordinary for her.”

“It doesn’t surprise you in the least that my cousin was stalking you.”

“She pretended to be you on Tinder. Nothing surprises me when it comes to Shoshana.”

“I’d bet she’d take that as a compliment.”

“I wouldn’t mean it any other way.”

They stand in silence for a few beats. It reminds Camila of their walk on the Bridge. Like now, it wasn’t the kind of awkward silence that happens between strangers. It’s more like the familiar quiet of old friends. “So, I don’t want to keep you from your dinner,” she says.

“Right, I should get back.” Marshall points to the door, but his feet stay in place.

“Yeah, me too. I just . . . .” Camila lets out a long exhale. Her heart begins to accelerate.

“What?’ Marshall looks at her expectantly.

“I’m sorry.” The rapid beating of her heart slows to a heavy thumping as she utters those words.

Marshall stares back at her for what feels like an interminable amount of time. It’s really less than a minute, but it feels like ten. In his heart he says, “I’m still in love with you,” yet when he parts his lips to speak, all he can say is, “I’m sorry too.”

Camila starts to turn back toward the restaurant, then stops herself. No matter the outcome, she realizes that if she doesn’t speak what’s in her heart now, she knows that she’ll regret it. Not because of some missed opportunity with Marshall, although that’s certainly reason enough. But because she didn’t find the courage to risk something. That idea alone is worth a lifetime of regret. And Camila knows she can no longer live in the shadows of her own mind and allow her fears to guide her life. If she’s going to figure out what is right for her, then it will require her to show courage in every aspect of it. Starting with her relationships.

“You know that game of Truth or Dare?” She asks Marshall.

He nods.

“Do you remember how it’s played?”

He nods again, his interest growing.

“If I said to you, Truth or Dare, which would you pick?”

“Honestly, I always picked Truth. I was always too scared to choose Dare.”

Camila laughs. “That sounds familiar.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Would you like to play?”

“If I get to go first.” Marshall runs his fingers across his lips. Camila suppresses a smile at that.

“Alright.”

“Truth or Dare.”

“Both,” she responds.

“Oh, it’s like that then?”

Camila nods.

“I’m going to need a minute with the dare, so how about you answer this for me.”

“Alright,” she replies, her heart starting to rev up once more.

“Are you in love with me?”

Camila stares back. Telling him the truth will only hurt his feelings, but she doesn’t have a choice. She shakes her head.

Marshall blinks but doesn’t waver. “Let me ask in a different way. Is there a chance that you are falling in love with me.”

Camila freezes. This is something she can answer truthfully, although the fear in admitting it makes her wish the ground would open up and swallow her whole. “Yes,” she murmurs. Finally she can breathe. Now, whatever happens next, she can return to New York with a little less baggage than she brought to Miami.

Marshall looks away to hide a smile. This is certainly more than he was expecting to hear. He’d lost hope after that night in her apartment. He hadn’t known what it was really like to feel ripped open like that. That experience taught him that he’d never known love for another person could run so deep. Until Camila, he thought of love in terms of superficial compatibility—intellect, career, and economic class. What he didn’t realize is that none of that matters if a more profound love isn’t at the core.

“Are you ready for your dare?” He asks.

Camila shifts her weight to her other leg. “Bring it,” she replies.

Marshall takes a step forward, putting them only inches apart. “You sure?”

“Absolutely,” she says, her confidence growing by the second. For all the dares she could possibly think of that he’d propose, she finds herself game for all of them.

“Introduce yourself to my mother as my girlfriend.”

Camila laughs anxiously. “You’re kidding, right?”

He moves his head from side to side. “You took the dare.”

“We haven’t even established what we’re doing here.” She waves a finger between them. “Being anyone’s girlfriend is quite a stretch for me.”

“She doesn’t have to know that.” Marshall lifts his hand to tuck her hair behind her left ear. “Besides, I’m not leaving New York any time soon. And it’s certainly something I’d like to work toward. Wouldn’t you?” He brushes his lips against her ear, making her entire body shudder.

“If I tell your mom, what’s in it for me?” She asks breathlessly.

“Oh, I’m sure I can think of a few things you might like.”

Camila takes a step back to catch her breath. “You’re asking a lot. I might need more incentive than that.”

Without taking his eyes off her, he runs his finger gently along her collarbone, lingering over the soft middle that he can’t wait to kiss. He won’t do it now though. It’s more torture for him than for her he assumes, but something that intimate cannot be done in public. Marshall slides his hand to the back of her neck. He searches her eyes for permission. When she doesn’t pull away, he draws Camila’s lips to his.

Fuck
, if his body doesn’t feel like the million pieces of himself that had been shattered the other night weren’t fused together by this one kiss. Love, lust, freedom echo through their kisses as their lips caress each other. It’s better than Marshall remembers it was, which is probably his own retelling, because he wants it to be better than last time. Everything will be better, he promises himself and Camila with this kiss.

“That incentive enough for you?” He asks.

“Mmmm, if we’re being completely honest with each other, that feels more like a promise than an incentive,” she replies.

Marshall pulls her to him again. This time, as his lips envelope hers, he lowers his hand and sweeps it over her ass and between her thighs. He groans a bit too loudly into their kiss, his cock betraying his need for her.
To hell with it all
, he wants to scream into the balmy Miami night. Marshall hasn’t felt this alive in years. Internal and external expectations have done nothing but suffocate him. Meeting Camila made him realize that he’d been managing with so little air. Those weeks with her breathed life into him. And being this close to her again, with his lips on hers, her breath mingling with his, he feels the kiss of life.

Camila can’t qualify the feelings running through her. Already she can feel her desire seep out of her, his touch intensifying the craving by the second. Yet, it’s the deeper feelings spiraling within and without that have captured her and made her their prisoner. They’re keeping her in place, forcing her to feel more than mere desire and lust. With every second, she’s plunged into an unfamiliar space that’s both frightening and calm. It’s where the heart lives, and it’s forcing her to feel hers so deeply and profoundly that she can hardly think about what she’s experiencing except that it must be the closest thing to Love she’s ever known.

Neither wants to be the one to stop. Finally Marshall gently squeezes her shoulders and pulls back. He rests his forehead against hers and says, “I want to . . . .”

“Yeah, I know,” Camila responds, swallowing shallow breaths.

As soon as they steady themselves, he guides her back inside. Once there, she notices Shoshana chatting casually with Poppy Baron.

“Who doesn’t your cousin know?” Marshall asks.

“The Pope,” she quips.

He laughs, a deep sound resonating and inviting his friends and family to turn in their direction. Suddenly, the confidence Camila had been feeling outside is diminished. Her last encounter with Marshall’s mother left her feeling misunderstood and insulted. She squares her shoulders, fully expecting a snide remark about her appearance, and resolving not to let it bother her. His mother has no idea who Camila is, where she’s from or what she does. A superficial judgment from the judge herself means nothing.

“My apologies for that long absence. I ran into a friend from New York.” Marshall says, waving a hand in Camila’s direction.

“Girlfriend actually,” Camila mutters, grateful to complete the dare within a minute of arriving at the table.

Shoshana beams at her while Dahlia waves. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m glad you were able to make it after all.”

Camila allows Marshall to finish the introductions. When they reach his mother, Norah offers a polite handshake and says, “Well, I see your choice in wardrobe hasn’t changed much.”

Poppy slaps her friend’s hand playfully. “As I recall, you weren’t shy about showing off that body of yours when it looked like hers.” Then, turning to Camila, Poppy says, “Ignore her. Women our age envy youth. You always remind us of our greatest regrets.”

Camila is taken aback. She’d never met anyone whose manner of speaking was cuttingly honest yet sincere.

“Won’t you join us?” Dahlia asks.

“Thank you, but we’re meeting some friends soon,” Camila replies quickly before Shoshana can accept. “It was lovely meeting all of you,” she says already backing away toward her table.

Chapter 51

“Brunch with the Barons wasn’t on the itinerary.” Camila slumps in the back of their Uber car as it drives away from the Beach.

“We wouldn’t have had to accept if you just sat down at dinner last night,” Shoshana rejoins.

“Elbowing me in the back was really uncool by the way. I think I have a bruise.”

“Don’t be a baby.”

“A baby? Now I’m going to have a huge mark on my back when I put on my swimsuit. Not that it matters because we’re not going to the pool or the beach during what you promised would be a fun vacation.”

“Oh, enough already,” Shoshana scoffs. “Just admit that you’re nervous seeing Marshall. You’re not sure if it’s all going to be different in the light of day.”

Camila purses her lips. “As a matter of fact I wasn’t thinking about that. Thanks for bringing it to my attention.” She gives her cousin a look.

Shoshana laughs. “Better to get it over with and see what’s changed, if anything. Besides, there was no way I was going to get away with running into Poppy down here and refusing her invitation. My mom would’ve killed me if she found out. No one refuses an invitation from that woman.”

“How does one woman yield so much power?”

Now it’s her cousin’s turn to give her a look. “While you were spending all that time studying influential women in history, you should’ve spent some of it reading about her.”

“She’s a socialite and philanthropist. What else is there to know?”

Shoshana shakes her head. “You consider yourself a feminist? Then you should know how hard Poppy worked to establish equal pay at Baron Media and how she was one of the first to implement decent maternity leave standards at the company
before
it was mandated. Her name and influence extended toward a lot of women’s causes in the City.”

“I hadn’t heard,” Camila replies quietly. “It still doesn’t change the fact that we could be lying poolside, sipping daiquiris instead of making polite brunch conversation with the Barons or Marshall’s mom.”

Shoshana laughs out loud. “That woman is a riot. She didn’t pull any punches last night.”

“At my expense,” Camila reminds her.

“Oh please. That was pettiness talking. You’re just not the person she’d choose for her son. Marshall doesn’t care, so you shouldn’t either.”

“How old is she anyway?” Norah pesters Marshall as they head out onto the driveway toward his rental car.

“Twenty-five,” he answers, realizing despite the hours and days and weeks he spent with Camila, he never learned her birthday.

“Twenty-five?” Norah Douglas asks incredulously. Never in her son’s thirty years has she ever thought him capable of such poor judgment. Marshall was her baby, the one male in her life who proved to be more reliable than her two ex-husbands. She firmly believed she raised him to respect women, to see them as his equal and to expect of them what he expects in himself—to rise above the paternal establishment perpetuated by his father and so many men who purport to be her equal or her superior.

Seeing that woman in her guesthouse and again at dinner calling herself Marshall’s girlfriend was enough to send her already high blood pressure through the roof. Not even her best friend’s humor was enough to assail her many fears of her son being trapped by some working-class tramp.

“I raised you better than this,” she insists, lowering her visor and slipping on her sunglasses. “The sun is so bright down here. I can’t understand how Poppy can tolerate it.”

“You raised me to be my own person and make my own decisions. I don’t expect you to like Camila, but I expect you to be respectful.”

“Respect is earned, not given.”

“It would be nice if you could leave your judgment on the bench sometimes.”

“It’s served me well for almost twenty years. Mark my words, this girl is not good for you.”

“And Ellen was? I’ll have to object to your assessment of my girlfriend.” Marshall hides his smile when he says that last word. He knows Camila won’t accept the title for a while, perhaps even longer than that.

“Come off it, Marshall. She’s a rebound. You’re entitled to be guided by your . . . your needs. At some point soon you’ll wake up and realize she’s a . . . a . . . .” Norah snaps her fingers. “What is it you said she does?”

“Bartender,” he replies quietly, feeling badly that he hasn’t been that forthcoming about Camila’s status as a law student, knowing full well his mother will put two and two together.

“Twenty-five and a bartender? Has she even been to college?” She shakes her head, disgusted that her own son would compromise his immaculate pedigree and connections for a piece of ass. “You are proving to be no better than your father.”

Marshall shakes his head, knowing better than to argue. He’s rarely if ever won an argument with her and doesn’t want to try now. He’s too excited to see Camila and hopeful he can at least get fifteen minutes alone with her. The very thought of that kiss last night was enough to keep him awake until the early dawn.

“Thank god you made it.” Dahlia greets them at the porte-cochère. “My mother is on a tear since she got up this morning.”

“It’s a sign that she’s feeling well,” Norah assures her.

“I know, but two of Lily’s housekeepers threatened to quit this morning if my mom doesn’t back off. As it is, she’s had them set three different tables for brunch. You know how she prefers to have options.”

Norah pats her cheek and starts up the steps to the house. “Poppy is a force, darling, but doesn’t always know when to stop. I’ll go speak with her.”

As soon as his mom is out of earshot, Marshall says, “It’s just us. Why does she care so much?”

“Habit, I guess,” Dahlia replies plainly. She threads her arm through his. “I didn’t have a chance to ask last night. Since when did Camila become your girlfriend?”

“Since I saw her last night. Although you probably shouldn’t use that word around her or my mother. Neither of them likes it very much.”

“Your mom unhappy it’s not Ellen?”

He nods.

“Ugh. I say good riddance to her. Excuse me for saying, but she was tough to be around. But this Camila, from what little she said and what you’ve told me, seems great.”

“Yeah, she is,” Marshall agrees.