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Van:Ur REALLY nice

Felix:Selling it a little hard there, Van.

Camden:Heading to bed

Logan:Keep us posted!

Van:And just remember—when in doubt kidnapping might be illegal but it’s also effective

Camden:And on that note … GOODNIGHT

CHAPTER11

Naomi

I wasn’twrong in my assessment about the futility of resisting Parker. Which is why a few days later, I’m dashing into a barbecue restaurant she recommended, picking up dinner for Liam and a whole smorgasbord of appetizers in preparation for a ladies’ night at my house.

Not just any ladies’ night, but one with hockey WAGs. According to the informative texts Parker has sent me, this specifically includes a fiancé (Parker), three wives (Amelia, Bailey, and Gracie), a girlfriend (Evie), and a sister (Greyson). Oh, and Evie’s bringing a baby, who is not a hockey progeny but apparently has all but been adopted by the recently retired team captain.

Not unlike how all of these ladies seem overeager to adoptme. It’s messing with my head a little bit. Do they want to include me for me? Or is it because they’re hoping Camden and I get back together? And though that seems to be our trajectory, I’m still just as scared as I was when I broke up with him.

The difference now is that I know how much it sucks to be without him.

And with his daily texts—checking in, asking how Liam and I are doing, adding some light flirtations—I’m trying to keep my expectations in check.Tryingis the operative word.

Failingwould be a more apt one.

The teenager at the to-go counter sets my bag of food on the counter with a big smile and a toss of her ponytail. “Here you go!” She is in way too good of a mood for my nervous energy. The only thing shinier than her attitude is her braces. “Order for Fieldstone, all set and ready. Looks like the start of a barbecue-tastic night!”

“Um, yes,” I mutter. “Something like that.”

I’m handing over my card and trying not to wince at the total when my whole body freezes. Because I happen to spot a familiar head of brown hair across the restaurant. It’s like wherever Camden is, my body homes right in on his exact location.

And his exact location happens to be in this very restaurant, just a few short tables away from the to-go counter.

He is not alone.

A pretty blond woman sits across the table from him, smiling widely and fluttering her lashes hard enough to cause gale-force winds.I have plans Tuesday night, he’d said. Not once did I consider “plans” to mean what looks to be an intimate dinner.

A riot of emotion careens through me.

Jealousy. Rage. Hurt. Insecurity. Panic. Betrayal. Regret.

All set to impossibly high levels, despite the fact that Cam and I have no official status warranting it. I don’t deserve these reactions. I have no right to them—I gave up my rights when I broke up with Camden. But my emotions do not seem to give any credence to logic.

Maybe it’s not a date. I’m an adult and shouldn’t jump to conclusions just because, from where I stand, itlookslike a date.

If you break up with a man, you aren’t allowed to have these kinds of feelings when he has dinner with a pretty woman,I scold myself.

But a very persistent little voice in my head reminds me of the way Camden looked at me just days ago on the catwalk and the almost-kiss I’m sure I left hanging in the air between us.

I think of the way I’ve woken up every day since to find an early morning text from him that’s been better at perking me up than a pot of coffee.

I think of him patiently helping Liam and the way his eyes met mine over my son’s head. The way Camden’s hand covered mine on the railing at the Summit after Liam’s practice, and the way that touch sent sparks cartwheeling through me.

Not to mention all the wayward thoughts I haven’t fully been able to remove from my brain since … well, summer. These thoughts have taken up residence despite my eviction notice, moving all their boxes and furniture in like a bunch of no-good squatters.

And this is a big problem since Camden really does appear to be on a date.