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“Why are you running away from me?” he asks.

“I was running from the cowbell.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Are you some expert in my motivations now?”

He dips his head, and now his voice is a low growl in my ear. “No, but I intend to learn them—along with everything that makes you tick. I’m still not sure whatreallymade you shut things down between us last summer, and I’m scared you’ll cut and run again before we can talk things through.” He pauses. “Before you give me a chance to win you back.”

I blink back tears, grateful that Camden can’t see my face. The brush of his lips against my ear and the low timbre of his rumbling whisper combined with the words he said—words that have me trembling from the top of my head to my toes—hit me like a sucker punch.

He wants me back.

My relief is almost as palpable as the same fear that made me escape down this hallway in the first place. Our lunch date tomorrow has been hovering at the very front of my thoughts like a shimmery mirage. I’ve been hopeful about how it will go, but even Camden’s most flirtatious texts have not been firm proof of anything.

I’m still not sure if considering this will be good for Liam, but I shove those thoughts away for now. If Camden wants to start over, to try a relationship not founded on words likecasualandtemporary, I will give serious thought to what this means for my son. First things first.

“But you’re on a date?” I whisper, hating that I feel so unsure but also hating the mental image I have of the pretty woman across the table from him.

“It’s not a date. There’s a longer and more complicated story, but this was a job interview.”

So much to unpack in that sentence, but I land on one word. “Was?”

“She did not get the job. Mostly because I think she wanted this to be a date, not a job interview. And the only person I want to go on a date with is you, Naomi.”

For a very long moment, we stand in this dim hallway, me relaxing into his strong embrace, his breath soft on my neck. I can’t feel his heartbeat, but I have to wonder if it’s going at the same impossibly fast rate as mine. I’m both limp with relief and coiled tight with anticipation.

I forget to even clarify what kind of job that woman was applying for.

“Say something,” he begs. “Do you want me to let you walk out of this door? Do you still want to go on our date tomorrow and talk things through?”

“No,” I say, slumping against him until he has to wrap his other arm around my waist to keep me upright. “I don’t want to walk away from you.”

My thoughts and emotions are like a swollen creek overrunning the banks in a wild torrent. I’m drowning, getting sucked under only to pop up again and again, trying to find air.

So I go with my gut, with what makes me feel safest.

“But I’m scared,” I say, and I try to pull away from his embrace.

At first, Camden seems like he’s going to let me. The arm around my shoulders drops, and he sighs heavily.

But then his hand grips my hip as he spins me so fast I almost drop the bag of food I forgot I was even holding. I drop it willingly when my eyes land on Camden’s face, because I need both hands to grab the loose material of his button-down shirt. Holding onto him seems suddenly imperative.

“Don’t do it again,” Camden says, and his voice takes on a gravelly rasp that hurts when I hear it. “Don’t run from me.”

“You’re the one who left,” I tell him, which isn’t fair but also happens to be factually true. “You ran too.”

“You told me to go,” Cam says, and his free hand cups my cheek. His gaze burns into mine. “And I started to think maybe you were smart to send me away. To stop things before they went too far. We both said casual, but it very quickly was not that for me.”

“It wasn’t for me either,” I admit. “But I don’t know how to do more. I never have. And with Liam to consider?—”

I have to stop. Because I don’t know how to finish that sentence.

“We need to talk about Liam. We probably need to talk about a lot of things. But I need to know what you want first.”

“I’m scared of what I want.” Swallowing, I force myself to keep going. It’s hard to do when I keep remembering the devastation I felt after Camden left. “I never want to feel again the way I felt after you left. Even if I was the one to send you away.”

“I should never have let you go,” Camden says, and his thumb brushes over the apple of my cheek with a tenderness that makes my breath shudder. “I should have fought for you. I was scared, too. I still am.”