Page 31 of Best Laid Plans
“Sure.” She eyed him with that same mix of curiosity and sympathy she’d had before. He needed her to lose that look as soon as possible.
“Great,” he said at the same time he hopped into the back of the van and began bringing the last boxes out toward the opened doors. He busied himself until he heard the dolly wheels, squeaky from being so overloaded, disappear into the building.
Cam wasted time that he didn’t have, moving slowly. There was no way he could escape going back inside, and he didn’t know why he was resisting it so much. Maybe because this morning, his old life had come calling, stopping him in his tracks.
He hadn’t expected to be so affected, seeing his dad. Or, whatever was left of him. But he’d become who he was in spite of his dad, not because of him, and he wasn’t going to let that worthless human being stop him from helping the Pierces.
And deciding that, something inside of him slotted into place. He heaved the last box onto the dolly, wondering how Elle had managed loading her first trip.
Seconds later, he was back in the restaurant. Elle was already wearing an apron, standing across from where he’d been working at the prep table with her station set up.
“You don’t need to–”
Elle didn’t look up from the garnishes she was cutting for the mini lobster rolls. “Cam, it took you days to prep for the weekend, and we sold out of everything yesterday. It’s going totake both of us to get even close to having what we need for today and tomorrow.”
He sighed. Even if he wanted to argue–which he did–she was right. He filled lobster pots with water along with another large pot for the shrimp and set them atop the burners, the click of the gas igniting like a gunshot in the otherwise silent room.
While he waited for the water to boil, he took his spot across from Elle and quickly finished the parsley he’d been chopping before she’d arrived. Once he was done, he started opening the seafood boxes to figure out what could be put in the walk-in fridge and which ones he’d need to work with.
There was so much to do, and it meant that he didn’t have to stand across from Elle for the next hour, as the seafood was put away and the pots came to a boil and he started to get into the zone as he prepped.
When he moved back to the table to start working again, he wasn’t thinking about anything except what was right in front of him, and what would need to happen after that.
“So that guy was your dad?” Elle asked as she shucked a vibrantly red lobster, her dexterous fingers moving with purpose.
His knife, which he was about to chop downward, stilled.
Elle looked toward him, and Cam felt like his eyes were pulled by an invisible string to meet her stare. “People think women like to gossip, but men are just as bad,” she said matter-of-factly.
Cam looked down and started chopping again. Of course those assholes, with nothing to do but drink and talk shit, would mention something to Elle. “I wouldn’t exactly call lineage gossip.”
“So, I guess small talk isn’t allowed at this table, either?” Elle pressed, as she resumed her work again, too.
“What else isn’t–” He stopped mid-sentence when Elleschooled him with alook, and his whole body roared to life, remembering what exactly they’d been about to do at this table.
“It’s fine that you don’t want to sleep together,” Elle said quickly, a faint blush on her cheeks, “but you’re treating me like I’m a stranger. And that, as far as I’m concerned, is the shittiest thing you’ve done yet.”
Cam kept moving his knife up and down in a practiced rhythm, trying to find balance in the choppy waves of his mind. “Would you want to admit that guy’s your dad?” he finally asked. “You don’t know anything about what it’s like to grow up with someone like that man for a father.”
There was that look again, like Elle really did want to understand him. And for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why.
Elle considered the question thoughtfully, not immediately rushing to fill the silence. She put her knife down and took a deep breath, like she was steeling her resolve. “No. I don’t know what that would be like. But I do know what it’s like to have parents who sacrificed to give me the world, and that I was too embarrassed to admit to them that I’m both jobless and homeless. And now, I especially don’t want to tell them, given my dad’s health and the issues with the restaurant,” Elle finished, picking up her knife again. “So, I know that it’s not the same, like at all, but I can sympathize with a part of your life that feels out of your control.”
Whatever Cam had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. Her words hit him in the chest, and he rooted his feet in place so that he didn’t move closer to her. She was trying–putting her own shit on display first to put them on a level playing field. And the most surprising thing was that he appreciated it. A lot.
He and Wyatt talked about stuff in their lives, but they both had the ‘do not touch’ areas that the other stuck clear of in unspoken agreement. For Wyatt, it was his injury and the end of his football career. And for Cam, it was his family–or lack thereof–and all the complicated feelings that went with it.
But Elle was offering him an olive branch, and it’s not like he’d been doing a great job handling things on his own. He’d barely been able to look at his father, and if they’d spoken, there was a good chance that Cam would have punched him.
“My mom hasn’t been around since I was twelve. And my dad was only around if there was alcohol in the house.” Or if he felt like hitting something, but Cam didn’t mention that part. “I moved to Boston when I was eighteen and haven’t talked to him since.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Elle was looking at him so intensely that he almost said no, unsure if where it would lead.
“Can’t promise I’ll answer it,” was what he managed. He’d have nothing to say on his feelings, considering he didn’t know what those were most days. He kept them tucked safely in a box that was duct-taped, ziptied, and then had concrete poured over it.
“Why do they call him Shrimp? He’s a tall guy. Is it because he’s skinny?”
Cam laughed hoarsely. It was not the question he’d been expecting. “Shrimp are the cockroaches of the sea. In spite of everything he puts his body and anyone close to him through, somehow, he’s survived.”
