Page 20 of My One and Only

Her mom leaned toward her. “What did you and Cam talk about?”she asked.

“Work, mostly,” she said, and saw her mother’s face fall. “I told you I found a few problems in the house his company is building for you. He’s checking into that but doesn’t have any answers yet. But his crew ripped out everything in your house that was a problem, and they’re going to re-do the work.”

Her mouth trembling, Jo’s mother stared at her. “So there were a lot of problems in my house?”

“I wouldn’t say that, Mom,” she said. “Just a few things that needed to be fixed. Cam assured me he’d already started working on them, and your house will be perfect in a few days.”

She had no proof that was true, but she was certain Cam’s word was good. If he said he would fix it, he’d do exactly that.

Trying to change the subject, Jo said, “What did you do while I was gone, Mom?”

“I reheated the spaghetti we had last night for dinner, then I started the Susan Elizabeth Phillips book you gave me.” She smiled. “I’m loving this book, Jo. Thanks for introducing me to her.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” Jo smiled. “She’s one of my favorites. When you’re done, I’ll get you another one of hers.”

Her mom brought the conversation back to Cam again. “I heard several years ago that Cam had gotten married,” her mom said. “Did he say anything about his wife?”

Jo frowned. “Not a word,” she said. Jo pressed a fist to her chest to ease the sudden flash of pain. Although she had no right to feel that way about Cam and his wife. She’d gotten married, too. “And I think he would have if he were still married? Maybe he got divorced.” Or maybe his wife had died. Like Mike had died.

Her mom must have seen a shadow cross her face, because she leaned closer and touched Jo’s arm. “I’m sorry I asked if Cam was married,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories for you.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” Jo said. She managed a tiny smile -- she didn’t want her mom to feel bad. “It was a long time ago.”

“It wasn’t the kind of thing you get over easily,” her mom said.

“No, it isn’t.” Jo stretched and pretended to yawn, then stood up. “It’s been a long day,” she said. “I’m headed to bed.”

“I’m sorry, Jo,” her mom said. “You can stay down here. I won’t bring up Mike again.”

“That’s not why I’m going upstairs,” Jo said, forcing a smile. “I’m still catching up on sleep from my job in Seattle.”

Her job hadn’t been that strenuous. She hadn’t missed much sleep. But she needed a reason to go into her room and close the door. She didn’t want to talk to her mom about Mike and what had happened. Every time her mom brought it up, it was like someone had ripped off an almost-healed scab.

“Anything you need before I go to bed?”Jo asked.

“I have a cup of tea steeping on the counter,” her mom said. “Bring it in here?”

“Happy to.” Thankful to escape, Jo hurried into the kitchen, took the tea bag out of the mug and dropped in into the compost can, then carried the mug out to the living room. “Here you go,” she said, setting the mug on the stained coaster on the old table next to the chair. “See you in the morning, Mom.”

“Sleep well,” her mom said, lifting her head from the book to give Jo a distracted smile. Jo had barely started up the stairs when her mom was reading again.

As Jo got ready for bed, she thought about her evening with Cam. In spite of the awkwardness of Cam’s clear desire to start something with her, Jo had enjoyed herself. And if she were honest with herself, the spark that had always flickered between her and Cam was still there.

Sliding into bed, Jo picked up her Kindle and opened it to the book she’d been reading on the plane. But she couldn’t focus when all she could think about was Cam. And when she put her Kindle down and turned off the light, Cam’s face lingered as she fell asleep.

* * *

Forty-five minutes after dropping Jo off at her mom’s house, Cam walked in the back door of his house, a stack of Don’s manila folders under his arm. Footsteps pounded the wooden floor as his daughter rushed toward him.

“Daddy!”his daughter yelled, throwing herself at him. Her blond hair hung in two messy braids down her back, and he recognized his mother’s handiwork. Fiona’s thin arms curled around his neck as she hugged him tightly, and he inhaled her baby shampoo and sweet-little-girl-sweat scent. “You’re home,” she said, her mouth close to his ear. “Why were you late? I don’t like it when you’re late.”

“I know you don’t, sweetheart,” he said, hugging his precious daughter more tightly. “But I had a meeting tonight.”

“I missed you, Daddy,” Fiona said.

She was lonely. If Ashley hadn’t died, she’d have her mother with her when he had meetings.

No. She wouldn’t have had her mother with her. Because he’d already had a divorce in the works when Ashley died.

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