Page 19 of Worth the Wait
“This would be strictly business,” I say, more to myself than to him.
“Absolutely. Nothing but professional wine evaluation and strategic beverage planning.”
There’s something in his tone that makes me look at him more carefully, but his expression is perfectly serious. Professional. Appropriate.
“Alright,” I decide, ignoring the voice in my head that’s suggesting this is a terrible idea. “I appreciate the offer. It would solve a significant logistical problem.”
He grins. “Excellent.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m settling into the passenger seat of Cameron’s Aston Martin, sinking into leather seats that feel impossibly soft and luxurious.
“Comfortable?” he asks, adjusting the climate control.
“Very,” I admit, though comfortable is only part of what I’m feeling. The car is beautiful, all sleek lines and sophisticated technology, but what’s really making me nervous is the forced intimacy of sharing such a small space with Cameron for the next few hours.
“Music preferences?” he asks, his finger hovering over the sound system controls.
“I’m flexible. Whatever you usually listen to is fine.”
Cameron scrolls through what appears to be an extensive playlist, finally settling on something that makes me sit up straighter in surprise.
“The Lumineers?” I say, recognizing the opening notes of a song I haven’t heard in years. “I wouldn’t have expected that from someone who probably has season tickets to the LA Philharmonic.”
“I have varied tastes,” he replies, pulling out of the parking garage and into morning LA traffic. “Besides, you used to love this album. I figured there was a chance you still did.”
The casual reference to my musical preferences from four years ago catches me off guard. I’d forgotten that Cameron knew I loved folk music, that we used to argue good-naturedly about the merits of indie bands versus classical composers.
“You remember that?”
“I remember a lot of things,” he says quietly, then seems to catch himself being too personal. “This song came up on my playlist a few weeks ago. Brought back memories of... different times.”
The song fills the space between us, familiar and bittersweet. We used to listen to music like this during the long drives to wedding venues, debating lyrics and sharing songs we’d discovered.
“Your turn,” Cameron says when the song ends. “What are you listening to these days?”
I pull out my phone and scroll through my own playlist, trying to find something that won’t reveal too much about my current emotional state. Finally, I settle on an Adele song that’s been on repeat lately.
“Predictable choice for a woman in her late twenties,” I say, trying to keep things light.
“Not predictable. Honest. Adele doesn’t write songs for people who don’t understand heartbreak.”
The observation hangs between us, weighted with meaning I’m not ready to examine. I clear my throat, needing to steer us back toward safer territory.
“So, about your trip to Europe,” I say, latching onto the business angle Amanda had mentioned. “Renewable energy, right?”
Cameron navigates onto the 101 freeway with ease, and I catch myself staring at his hand where it rests on the gear selector—the same strong fingers I used to trace during our drives together, back when touching him felt as natural as breathing.
“Acquisition deal in Copenhagen and Frankfurt,” he replies as I tear my gaze away from his hand. “We’re expanding into renewable energy infrastructure.”
“That’s different from your usual investments, isn’t it?” I remember Cameron’s business interests being more traditional—real estate, tech companies, established industries with predictable returns.
“Very different. Two years ago, I wouldn’t have touched anything so volatile.” He glances at me briefly before focusing back on the road. “But sometimes the most meaningful investments are the ones that feel risky.”
There’s something in the way he says it that makes me think he’s not just talking about business anymore, but I brush the thought away, focusing my attention on the gray clouds gathering over the mountains ahead of us instead.
“Looks like we might be driving into some weather.”
“Should clear up by this afternoon,” Cameron replies, glancing at the darkening sky. “Weather reports said it was just morning clouds.”
