She collapses onto my chest.
I wrap her trembling body up in my arms and kiss the top of her head.
“What the f**k are you doing to me?” she says.
I laugh lightly and hold her tighter. “Whatever the hell I want,” I answer cunningly.
Tilting her head back away from my chest, she gazes up at me. “Well, I don’t care what you say, you’re not going to get me off this time without me returning the favor.”
“Oh, is that right?”
“Yes, that’s exactly right, so don’t even try it.”
“What are you going to do to me then?” I feel my grin deepening.
“Whatever the hell I want,” she says with a grin even more wicked than mine.
Then she rises to her feet and taking a hold of my hand brings me up with her.
“But not out here,” she says. “It’s getting too cold.”
“You’re the boss,” I say and let her start to pull me along.
I would never bring it up, but I do notice as we walk away from the beach, Camryn looks back once at the photo of her and Ian lying on the sand. Her hand squeezes firmly around mine, and she looks over at me smiling softly as we cross the boardwalk.
I know I really had little to do with her finally finding her closure. Yeah, I forced it on her, but it was Camryn who in that moment faced one of her biggest fears. She stared into the face of someone she loved and lost, and finally accepted it. I admit, it was strange how it all happened, and I never went out there with any sexual intentions, especially in a moment like that. But Camryn, in the time she spent alone on that beach thinking about Ian, long before I joined her, she had already figured it all out.
I can’t say for sure how she did it, or how much I had to do with it, but by the time she left the beach with me that night, she was starting to become herself again.
Camryn was coming back, and I was living in the clouds with her.
Camryn
19
December 8—my twenty-first birthday
As it started getting colder, Andrew and I started heading farther south. We spent only one night in Virginia Beach, and from there we traveled North Carolina’s coastline, staying a few days in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, where I got my first road-trip job. Housekeeping. Definitely not my first pick, especially after Andrew reminded me that day about the gross things guests tend to leave behind in the rooms. But it was a job, and I didn’t mind it so much, except when they expected me to wash out wastebaskets with disgusting hockers stuck to the bottom. Sorry, but just thinking about that makes me gag. I called Andrew and begged him to come do it for me. Of course, I totally bribed him with promises of mind-altering blow jobs in random places in exchange for his services. Fucking yay. Nah, who am I kidding? I enjoy the hell out of doing it for him. I only pretend to hate it sometimes, but I think he likes it when I pretend because he likes to hear me whine.
Anyway, apparently, housekeeping jobs are like revolving doors, employees come and go so fast you might as well not even officially add them to the payroll. I thought to myself how this could really work in my favor while on the road. So, in exchange for half of the rent of the room we were staying in and because the hotel staff was shorthanded, I asked if I could help out and they hired me on the spot.
But the job was only temporary, as Andrew and I needed to get out of Myrtle Beach and head to our next destination, wherever that might be. We never plan destinations in advance. The only rule we’re going by is staying on the coast. At least until the spring. But it’ll be a few months before spring gets here, and right now, we’re happily set up in a cottage-style hotel right on the beach in beautiful Savannah, Georgia.
And today, I turn twenty-one.
Andrew wakes me from a deep sleep by opening the curtains on our giant room window and letting the sun fill the room.
“Get up, birthday girl,” he announces from somewhere near the foot of the bed. I hear him slap the tabletop by the window with the palm of his hand repeatedly.
I moan and roll over onto my side, putting my back toward the bright sun and then burrow underneath the sheets. A gust of cold air hits me when Andrew snatches the sheets off me.
“Oh come on!” I moan, drawing my knees toward my chest and pulling the pillow over my head. “I should be able to sleep in on my birthday.”
Suddenly my body is being dragged off the bed and my arms come up wildly, trying to hold on to the edge of the mattress. Andrew’s hand is wrapped firmly around my ankle. I kick and flail, trying to get away, but he drags me across the bed so fast and without much effort that I just give up. My butt hits the floor and the sheets tumble down and around me.
“You are such an ass!” I laugh.
“But you love me. Now get up.”
With my hair all tangled around my head, I look up at him and pout. He smiles at me and reaches out his hand. I take it, and he pulls me into a stand.
“Happy birthday, babe,” he says and pecks me on the lips.
I flinch a little, because I know I have morning breath, and I’m already so used to him never passing up the opportunity to tease me about it.
Without looking at me, Andrew reaches inside his coat pocket and pulls out a little black velvet box. Obviously, he’s already been out and about today, but I’m more interested in the box he’s putting in my hand. I look at him warily, ready to chew him out if he went behind my back and spent a lot of money on a piece of jewelry.
“Andrew?” I say suspiciously.
“Just open it,” he says. “I was good. I promise.” He puts up both hands up in surrender.
Still totally wary of his apparent sincerity, I lift the lid on the box to see a diamond pendant necklace inside, and I gasp a little. Then I narrow my eyes at him. “Andrew, I swear.” I glance down at it again, feeling guilty for even holding it. “There’s no way this wasn’t—”