Page 57 of The Saint

Her clothing options were limited to what she had packed haphazardly from her condo and the gray sweatpants and oversized T-shirt Camden had let her wear.

“We can’t go anywhere fancy,” she called down the stairs.

“Oh no,” he deadpanned. “You’re breaking my heart.”

She snort-laughed and tugged on jeans and a sweater. Her hair had mostly finished drying while Camden kissed her into a million glittery pieces. She couldn’t do much about its chaos other than to wrangle it into what she hoped passed for a messy bun. After a quick swipe of lipstick, she headed downstairs.

He waited on the couch, football in hand, sexier than she remembered him being fifteen minutes prior. How was that possible? His smile crooked, and she knew the football was about to fly her way. Amelia caught his easy loft with more confidence than she could have imagined possible. A lot had changed in a short amount of time.

“Ready?” He grabbed his wallet and the keys off the hook by the door.

It struck her that this was how married couples did date nights. After all, they lived in the same place. No one picked up or dropped off. They didn’t say “Good night” or “Give me a call.” They just went back into their home and repeated the whole thing whenever they wanted to. On the weekends. On vacations. After work.

A pang of guilt needled her. Amelia had been ignoring work. She’d had plenty of reasons to, but since she was out of prison, she didn’t have the same excuse as before. “Can I check in with Veronica before we head out?”

He shrugged. “Of course.”

“I don’t have my phone or laptop. Can I call her from your phone?” The last time she’d called Veronica, it had been to drop a bomb: She’d needed a lawyer in prison and for Veronica to run the business solo while she was out of touch. They had so much to catch up on, but at the very least, she needed to explain she wasn’t in custody anymore.

Camden held out his phone. “I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

Veronica picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Amelia? Oh my God. How are you? Where are you?”

“I—” She caught herself. How could she explain the situation with a special operations babysitter and meeting with the CIA? “Considering everything, I’m fine. What about you?”

“Fine. But who cares how I am? I’ve been so worried about you.”

“Honestly, I’m okay. I’m going to stay offline for a while and wanted to make sure that you’re good with that.” Veronica could handle the business part of Events and Occasions in her sleep, but dropping everything on her without warning hadn’t been fair.

“Of course I am.”

“Everything with work is—”

“Amelia. Who cares about work? I’m worried about you.”

“I’m in the process of straightening everything out.”

“These scary people came and talked to me about you, what you knew, what you and Hailey talked about. I didn’t think they’d ever leave me alone.”

Amelia’s stomach sank. The CIA had been harassing her and probably everyone she knew.

“I’m sorry. They arrested me and then let me go. Big misunderstanding”—understatement of the century—“but it’s heartbreaking.” Her throat cracked. “I just want to find Hailey.”

“I know, hon. Anything I can do? Can I drop food off at your place? Run out and get your groceries? Anything at all? I don’t even have to knock on the door.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m not staying there right now.”

“Where are you?”

“Just keeping my head down.”

Veronica hummed. “Are you sure I can’t do anything for you?”

“No, but call this number if you need me. Okay?” She ended the call and hated how law enforcement was spending more time on Amelia’s social circle than on finding Hailey.

---