He repositions himself at the top of the slide and scoots down the metal incline and into a pit of sand below. Picking himself up, he goes right back around to do it again with the biggest smile on his face.
The playground behind their apartment complex is minimal at best. A slide, a broken teeter-totter, a little dinosaur that just bobs back and forth, and a couple of swings are it. Ryder knows no difference. This is his favorite place in the world.
“What are you going to do all afternoon?” Dom asks, coming up behind me and folding me into his chest. His chin rests on my shoulder as we watch his nephew.
“This, probably. I, um . . .” I force a swallow, a little nervous and a little embarrassed about my next sentence. “I brought some designs that Sienna has for the company she’s thinking about launching with a friend in Illinois. She asked me to take a look at them for some reason, but I don’t know why—”
“Because you’re smart.”
My cheeks heat and it has nothing to do with the sun.
“I heard your suggestions for The Gold Room. Have you ever thought of doing something with design? Maybe interior design or something? Your house is beautiful.”
“Thanks,” I blush.
“You should, Cam. I think you’d be great at it.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really,” he laughs, kissing the top of my head.
“Well, I’ve strangely enjoyed it. And, this might sound dumb, but I’ve been thinking about how to use design and combine it with volunteer work and scholarships and stuff to see if I can come up with a way to make a difference somehow.”
“That,” he says, kissing me sweetly, “is an awesome idea. I love it.”
My grin causes my cheeks to ache.
“I want to talk about this more. But right now, I need to go. Bond’s probably already waiting.”
I bite my tongue and don’t say the words that come so naturally—the question about why he’s doing it or why he can’t just stop. While I don’t understand the answers, I know what they are. And I know this is important to him. So instead of going there, I smile. “Have fun. Be safe.”
“Oh,” he teases, backing away slowly. “I like this new Camilla. Where’d she come from?”
“Don’t push it.”
“You sure you don’t want to talk me out of it? Remind me how bad it’s going to hurt later?”
“Nope,” I say. “I’m going to go to the pharmacy and buy adult bubble bath and ice packs and ace bandages. If I have to worry about you getting hurt, you have to deal with me fawning all over you when you get home.”
He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. His smile as wide as his shoulders says it all. With a little wave and a shout of goodbye to Ryder, he’s in his car and pulling out of the parking lot in a minute.
The Camaro rips around the corner and is out of sight. I stand watching where he was parked, reveling in the easiness of things right now. Over the past few days, since the fight with Graham and Dom’s revelation about his teenage years, things have been a little different. Less complicated. A touch closer. More intimate.
We aren’t there, yet, not to the place where I feel like we’ve crossed the hurdles and are on solid ground. There’s still so much to work through. But progress is progress.
I turn to watch Ryder struggle to get in the swing. “Let me help you, buddy,” I say, crossing the curb and padding through the grass. I get him situated and then pull the swing back and let him go free.
“Higher, Camilla!”
His laugh pierces the air, a stark contrast to the rather dismal surroundings. He’s making the best of what he has.
“You’re an inspiration, Ryder. You know that?”
“What’s a spiration?”
“An inspiration,” I say, slowing the word down, “means that you inspire me.”
“I don’t understand what that means.”
“That’s okay. It’s a good thing.”
He pumps his legs back and forth, the tail of his superhero cape floating behind him. “You know what else is a good thing, Camilla?”
“What’s that?”
“Little brothers!”
“What do you know about little brothers?”
“Well, Chrissy’s sister has two little boys and they get to play together all the time. I told Daddy I need a little brother. Chrissy said I should tell him so I did.”
“I bet she did,” I say, laughing. “But a little brother would need a mommy, Ry, and I don’t think your daddy has picked one yet.”
“You could be my mommy.”
“Oh, well . . .” I say, realizing what I just walked into. “I’m not your daddy’s girlfriend. I’m your Uncle Dom’s. So I could be your aunt, but not your mommy. Although, any woman that gets to spend time with you is a lucky ducky.”
He grins at me, his eyes sparkling like Dom’s. “You make me happy.”
“You make me happy too, little guy.” I slow him down until his miniature cowboy boots drag the dirt. “I have an idea.”
“What’s that?”
“Instead of spending the day here, why don’t we go to my house?”
“Could we?” he asks, jumping off the swing.
“Absolutely. Let me check with your daddy first.”
“I could’ve brought him home,” I tell Nate as he comes through the door. “It would’ve been no big deal.”
“I’d hate for you to have to get out and lug him around, especially if he’s asleep.”
“He passed out a few hours ago.” I tuck my legs under me on the sofa and watch Nate take in my living room. “I think I wore him out. We played at your apartment, then I took him down to Marcone Park and fed the ducks and got an ice cream, then we watched a movie.”
“All in one day? Shit, Priss. He won’t want to leave.”
Laughing, I pick up my glass of hot tea. “It was fun. When Dom called and told me he had to go do an emergency HVAC job, I tried to get Ryder to take a bath. But he kind of just used my tub as a swimming pool.”
“Sounds about right.”
The lamps around the room cast a soft light on Nate’s features. It mutes the general sternness he projects and makes me wonder how he would’ve ended up had he not had the upbringing he did.
He’s handsome. Not quite as good-looking as Dom, but almost. They’re both intelligent and hard workers. I can see them both sitting in suits at a business meeting or on the arm of a woman at one of the fancy dinners my parents attend regularly. The thought makes me smile.
“So,” Nate says, clearing his throat, “Dom told me you and one of your brothers had a falling out.”
“Yeah.” My heart tumbles as Graham is brought up. He hasn’t called me and I haven’t called him. I pick up my phone at least twice a day and almost give in and reach out and then I remember—I have nothing to apologize for. I put the phone back down.
I hate this between us. It’s something I can’t shake. Even though I do believe, without a doubt, he means well, I can’t act like this is okay because it’s not. Graham will never respect me if I let him walk all over me.
“If it’s my fault . . .”
“It’s not your fault,” I insist. “It’s . . . it’s the joining of a bunch of different things. Family growing pains, I guess. I don’t know.”
“I can tell it bothers you.”
“Yeah,” I rasp. “My family is really close. Like you and Dominic but there are six of us. I’ve gone this long without talking to one of them lots of times, but never because we’re actually mad.”