He looks at me. “Why is that, Ash? Why are you so tired that you don’t want to make any plans with me?”
I stare at him, and for some reason I get all emotional. My eyes tear up.
“It’s not you,” I whisper.
“Ash.” His face falls. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asks gently.
I shrug as I try to articulate my thoughts. “It’s like…” I pause.
“It’s like what?”
“It’s like I had to be so brave and strong on my own for so long.” I frown because I know this sounds ridiculous, even to me.
He frowns as he watches me.
I shrug. “Now that I have you to take half the load, my body has decided to relax and fall apart.” I wipe a tear from my eye. “I feel weak, Cam. I feel tired and weak and could sleep for five years.”
He smiles softly as he watches me.
“And I… I don’t like it because I’m the one who holds shit together,” I stammer.
He smiles and stands, and pulls me into an embrace. “You don’t need to hold shit together anymore, Bloss.” He kisses me softly on the lips. “I’m here to hold our shit together now.”
I smile through my tears. “Promise?”
He kisses me softly and rubs his fingers down my cheek as he studies my face. “I promise.”
I put my hands around his broad shoulders.
“Will you come to Vegas next weekend?” he whispers.
I smile. “If I must.”
“Good.” He kisses me softly. “Now, I know you’re feeling weak, but luckily for you that’s a great companion to how I’m feeling.” He grabs my ass hard and I laugh out loud. “Now get up to our bed, on your hands and knees, because you are about to be fucked into next week.”
I giggle and wipe my eyes. “Yes, Boss.”
I glance over at Cameron as he drives. “Explain to me exactly what they said this appointment is about?” I frown. “Like, word for word.”
“Nothing.” He slides his hand up my thigh. “This is just a formality to finalize the changes to Owen’s birth certificate.”
I stare out through the front windscreen onto the rainy road. “Oh, okay.”
He squeezes my thigh between his fingers. “It shouldn’t take long, I don’t think.”
It’s Monday afternoon and we’re on our way to see the solicitor who called me last week. After tackling the traffic, we arrive and walk hand in hand to the office, through the swanky black doors.
The receptionist looks up from her computer. “Hello.” She smiles and takes a double look at Cameron. “Ashley Tucker?”
I nod and swallow the nervous lump in my throat. Solicitors always make me jumpy.
“Take a seat, it won’t be a moment. Can I get you a glass of water or a cup of coffee?”
“No, thanks.” I fall into the seat and look around the office nervously. Cam takes my hand into his on his lap.
The office door opens and a kind-looking elderly lady smiles. “Ashley Tucker?”
“Yes.” I stand nervously.
She holds her hand out to her office. “Just this way, dear.” I grab Cam’s hand for reassurance, and we walk in and take a seat at her large mahogany desk.
I clutch my purse tightly on my lap as she takes a seat opposite us. “Now. You know why we’re here today?”
“The birth certificate?” I whisper.
Cam smiles broadly. “I didn’t tell her why she’s here.”
My eyes flash to him in question.
The solicitor smiles broadly. “How lovely.” She stands and takes a folder out of her large filing system. “Well, Ashley, you recently became friends with one of my clients.”
I frown.
“Gloria.”
My eyes widen.
“And Gloria has named you in her will.”
I glance at Cameron and he smiles broadly. “You knew about this?”
He raises his cheeky eyebrows, and I shake my head. What the hell?
She takes out her large folder and opens it. “Gloria has left you her collection of Jane Austen books.”
My mouth falls open and tears instantly fill my eyes. “Oh my God,” I whisper. “Are you serious?” I scramble through my bag for a tissue. “That’s amazing.” I turn to Cam and he’s grinning back at me. “Oh, that’s so special to me. Thank you so much,” I whisper. “When can we pick them up?”
She smiles as she watches me. “That’s not all she left you, dear.”
I frown.
“There’s a property on three-hundred acres in San Diego, and a house in Burbank.”
My eyes widen. “I beg your pardon?” The blood drains from my face.
She smiles and nods. “Yes, she left you everything that she owned.”
My eyes tear up again and I look to Cameron, who’s sitting there stunned.
“Are you serious?” I whisper.
“Completely.” She shuffles through the paperwork. “I have some paperwork that you have to sign to make it legal.”
I drop my head. “I was just her friend. Are you sure you have the right person?” I whisper.
“Positive. She was as smart as a whip and you made her last days wonderful. She contacted me six weeks before she died to arrange the details.”
“Gloria…” I whisper.
Cameron drops his head as emotion takes over.
This is something else.
“Now, the house in San Diego hasn’t been visited in ten years, so I have no idea what state it’s in.” She passes over a pile of paperwork with Xs marked where I have to sign. I start to make my way through them with signatures.
Is this really happening?
“And the house in Burbank was where she lived until she went into hospital, so everything inside it is yours, too.”
I stare at her with the pen in my hand. “I can’t believe this,” I whisper.
I sign and sign and sign until I don’t think my hand can take much more. Finally, forty-five minutes later, she hands me two sets of keys and the two title deeds.
I stare at the keys in my open hand then look up at Cameron, and he kisses me softly on the lips. “Congratulations, baby,” he whispers.
“Cameron, this is too much.”
“No, it’s not.” He smiles as he puts his arm around me and leads me out the door. “You deserved this because you loved Gloria.”
“Cam, I wasn’t her friend to get an inheritance.”
He kisses me and smiles softly. “I know, but every day as I listened to you read Pride and Prejudice to her, I fell a little bit deeper in love with you.”
I stare at him through my tears and he pulls me into an embrace. “Let’s go home, Bloss.” He chuckles. “Your house or mine?”
Vegas
Cameron fusses around in Owen’s bag. “So, you’ve got to take this bag tonight with you over to the other room when you stay there, Owen.”
“Uh-huh,” Own replies as he watches cartoons on television.
Cameron rubs his forehead as he thinks.
I smirk as I watch Cam dart around like a madman. Owen and I are lying on the queen bed, being completely lazy and unmotivated while Cameron is trying to organize us before he leaves for his stag night. It’s 4:00 on Saturday afternoon, and we’re in our luxury suite in Vegas. He’s just about to go.
“Don’t forget your blankie,” he mutters almost to himself as he packs it in the bag.
He power-walks into the other room and then reappears, scratching his head. He mutters to himself and disappears again.
“Daddy’s going cuckoo,” I whisper as I snuggle into Owen.
Owen nods and continues to watch his shows.
“What time are you going out tonight?” Cam asks me as he appears again.
I shrug. “Don’t know.”
“Well, what are the plans?” He frowns.
I shrug again. “I don’t know. There are no plans.”
“No plans?” he repeats. “I thought you had plans.” He walks over and checks the charge on Owen’s iPad, plugging it in while he plays it. “What time did you say you would leave?”
“Oh, I don’t care, we might just stay in bed. Might we, Owie?” I tickle Owen and he laughs as he tries to escape my clutches.
“Owen, don’t forget to take your iPad tonight so you can play it if the other kids are on theirs,” Cameron tells him.
“Okay. Can we get room service, Mom?” Owen asks excitedly.
“Let’s get some milkshakes and fries.” I smile.
“Yes.” Owen punches the air.
“Ash, what time did Tash say that you’re all going out?” Cam asks again as he puts his hands on his hips. “I would like to know what you’re doing.”
“I don’t know.” I frown. “Who cares? We’ll get there when we get there.”
He looks at me flatly.
“What’s your problem?” I smirk. “Why are you so uptight today?”
“What? I’m not uptight. You’re uptight.” He disappears into the other room again.
I laugh. “Yes, that’s why you’ve worn the carpet threadbare this morning with all your pacing.”
“I’m not pacing,” he calls out, annoyed.
He comes back in and stands at the end of the bed and watches me for a moment.
He’s wearing his custom hunky jeans, a navy blazer, and a white shirt. His hair is in its usual style of dark, messy curls, and his beautiful square jaw shines in all its glory.
“You are one beautiful-looking man, Cameron Stanton.” I smile.
He frowns and swallows a lump in his throat, his eyes searching mine. “You love me, right?”
“Yes.”
“Like love, love? Like, serious shit love.”
I smile. “As serious as love shit can get.”
“Good. Good,” he whispers to himself.
“Stop saying the naughty word, ‘shit’!” Owen frowns as he plays on his iPad.
“Sorry,” Cam splutters. “But don’t you say it, either, please.”
“Are you all right, Cam?” I ask.
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?” He frowns.
“Because you look like you’re about to throw up.”