Page 48 of Under My Skin

“Can’t wait,” she responds gleefully before hanging up.

Hopefully this plan works and doesn’t backfire in my face. I want Cameron to make up his mind. Either he wants me once and for all, or he doesn’t, and I’ll lick my wounds and move on.

I decide to work on some pieces in my studio for a couple of hours in the hope that I get lost in my work, but that only backfires when I end up stewing the whole time and taking out my anger on the poor clay.

I’m cleaning up my workstation when my phone rings and I see that it’s Rita, my agent, calling. I already know why she’s calling, and I definitely don’t have the energy for this today, but I answer anyway.

“Hey, Rita.”

“Hello, Elizabeth. How are you today, sweetie?” Rita asks in her high-pitched, chipper voice, refusing to call me by my shortened name the way I asked her to.

“I’m doing okay. The answer is still no, though,” I preemptively offer.

“Have you at least given it a good amount of thought? I can give you the studio of your dreams and a penthouse apartment overlooking the Chicago River. It’s absolutely breathtaking, sweetie. You’ll be living a life of luxury while doing what you love and making ten times what you’re making now. When buyers get to meet the artists behind their favorite pieces, you know it motivates them to buy more.” I’ve heard a variation of the same speech a few times before. She tries to convince me to relocate, I say no, she pretends to accept, and then she tries again days later.

When I answer her today, there’s a bit of trepidation in my refusal. All the drama with Cameron makes disappearing to a big city sound less bad.

“It’s still a no, Rita,” I say, exhausted that we’re having this conversation again.

“Alright, Elizabeth. I’ll try again next week,” she says on an exasperated breath. “How are the August pieces coming along?”

“Good. I’ve made a lot of progress, and I think they’ll look great in the gallery and sell well. You won’t be disappointed.”

“I never am. I’ll talk to you next week.”

We exchange goodbyes, and then she hangs up. Our conversation only lasted two minutes, but I feel considerably more drained than I did before I answered the phone.

Time to get the Cameron party show on the road.

23

CAMERON

Well,I fucked up.

Lizzie is pissed, and she has every right to be. I should have invited her well before now. Before the girls suggested it. Before I let the possessive feelings and sexual tension take over. We’ve become really good friends these past weeks, and I’ve confided more in her than I have in my best friends. It was a no-brainer that she should be included tonight, and I don’t know why I waited this long.

Scratch that. I do know. My incessant fear of letting her get too close in all aspects of my life, and then Addy and Mackenzie are getting closer to Lizzie every day. That keeps holding me back. I can’t potentially jeopardize their relationship so I can get my dick wet.

Who am I kidding? What I have with Lizzie is about more than getting my dick wet. And that’s the problem. Because the newly divorced man would love to have as much fun with his hot, younger neighbor as he can, but the responsible single dad knows there’s too great a risk of catching feelings.

All while I know Lizzie is not like the others, I keep remembering that I don’t have a great track record when it comes to catching feelings, or I wouldn’t be divorced. And inevitably, that will impact my girls.

Lizzie and I are just friends with benefits.This is what we agreed on.

So why are you concerned that you may have hurt her feelings?

I shake my head. It’ll be OK. I’ll apologize to her later and let her know I was an ass and get us back on track. Maybe we’ll pick up where we left off last night.

With this in mind, I move on to my next task, which is a stern talk with two little girls who are bound to put me in an early grave. My heart was pounding when I realized they were missing from the house.

“Girls. Please. No more going outside without asking me first, got it?” I crouch down to their level so they know just how serious I am.

“Got it,” they both say in unison, their eyes cast down.

“I’m not mad, but I was worried. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“But can we come outside to be with Miss Lizzie if she’s around? Because she likes to play with us and she helps us build stuff,” Addy says, and then adds, “She doesn’t even care that we’re all dirty.”

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