“Not just a visit, then.”
“I’m running away.” Oh, it galled her to admit it.
Cam stopped their rocking, tension snapping into his body. When he spoke, his voice was carefully controlled. “Did the ex hurt you?”
“No. No, not the way you mean. I’m not coming from an abusive relationship or something. Despite its longevity, I’m not entirely sure it even merits the term relationship.”
He relaxed again and Norah felt the stroke of his hand down the length of her hair, the touch of hands that knew how to handle delicate things. Not that she’d ever thought of herself as delicate. She remembered that he ran a nursery and spent his days with plants. That explained the scents on his coat.
Cam said nothing as her brain continued to spin, just kept stroking her hair. Why should that small thing be so soothing? She found the words spilling out in a whisper. “I got fired.”
He didn’t flinch, didn’t pause, just shifted his hand beneath her hair to rub at the tension in her nape. “Why?”
“I found out my firm had engaged in ethics violations. Had involved me in ethics violations by withholding certain information.”
“Your firm or your ex?”
Oh, he was astute. “Both. I confronted them about it and said I wouldn’t be party to any more of that sort of practice. Evidently, I overestimated my importance to the firm.”
“Is there some professional organization you can report them to? Some group that can sanction them or yank their license or whatever?”
“We don’t have any kind of body like that. The American Marketing Association and the Public Relations Society of America have codes of ethics, but membership isn’t mandatory. There’s not really anybody who can do a damned thing. There’s no ethics police.”
“Well that sucks. Either way it sounds like you’re better off out of there. They weren’t your caliber of people.”
“Knowing I have the moral high ground is cold comfort when it comes to trying to get another job without references. I’ve been with this firm since graduate school.”
“References or not, I’m sure your work speaks for itself. Not to mention your academic credentials. Twice valedictorian, top of your class at Northwestern. Taylor medalist at Ole Miss.”
Norah sat up to look at him. “How do you know all that?”
“Miranda talks a lot. She’s really proud of you. Come back here.” Cam pulled her back where she’d been tucked up against him. “Is that why you haven’t told her? Are you worried she’ll think of you differently?”
“No. I know she loves me no matter what, which is why I came. But I know her. She’ll try to steamroll me to make a big change, and right now I just…I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”
“I’m hearing a lot more upset about the job than the guy.”
He was fishing and Norah knew it. She found she didn’t actually mind. “The job mattered. Pierce didn’t. Or rather, he was an extension of the job. Work has always defined my life, defined me. I don’t know who I am without it.”
“You’re more than your job, Norah. From my point of view, you’re a woman who takes her commitments and responsibilities very seriously. Clearly your parents did a great job instilling in you a hard work ethic, but they missed out on some of the essentials.”
Norah bristled and started to sit up, but he held her in place.
“Don’t get your dander up. I’m not insulting your folks. But they clearly didn’t teach you that the other side of hard work is play. That sometimes you just need to be still. That it’s okay to just be. They didn’t teach you the value of sitting on a swing in the dark or dancing under the stars. All that’s important too.”
She tried to imagine her parents doing any of those things and couldn’t see it. Her father was always working on some brief and, when she wasn’t at the hospital, her mother was always keeping up-to-date with the medical literature, even over Saturday morning coffee. And Norah had followed right along in their footsteps within the confines of her own field. She understood work. Work had always been a constant. It made sense in a world that otherwise often didn’t seem to follow any rules.
“Did I piss you off?”
“No, I was just trying to remember the last time I truly just chilled. Went to a movie without trying to analyze the advertising campaign or to a party without automatically building mental dossiers on all the attendees. And I…can’t.”
“Seems like maybe you need a remedial course in just plain living.”
Christ, that was sad. “Are you volunteering as teacher?”
“Why not? I’m here, you’re here, and they’re playing one of my favorites.” Cam brought the swing to a stop and rose, setting both their drinks at the base of the tree. He held out a hand. “Dance with me.”
Norah laid her hand in his, letting the coat fall to the swing as she stood and stepped into him. She didn’t notice the cold, not when the warmth of his hand curved at her waist and he began circling her to the quiet rhythm. She angled her head, straining to identify the music because it seemed safer to focus on that than on how it felt to be pressed almost against him. “Moon River. Old school.”