CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Coconut Grove, Florida
December 24
Cam thanked the Uber driver and climbed out of the SUV, holding Evan's hand. He paused, standing before the pink stucco home nestled among lush greenery and coconut palms. The house was decorated for the holidays. Pine roping wrapped with white lights outlined the front door, a wreath with a red bow hanging in the center. On the front lawn, a garish inflatable Santa in his sleigh disrupted the tasteful landscaping. Cam knew instantly his parents had put it out for his little nieces and nephews. Evan stood next to him, scanning the tableau with delighted eyes, almost the same way she examined a discovery in the caves.
He retrieved their luggage from the back and returned to her side. She stood close, wrapped both hands around his big arm, and smiled. “You grew up here?”
“Yeah. Fell out of that tree when I was eight and broke my arm.” He pointed to a huge magnolia in the side yard. “And that trellis to the second-floor window? That's how we would sneak out.”
“We?”
“Oh yes, my sisters taught me more about espionage than the CIA.” He winked.
“Cam?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m so happy right now.” She looked up at him, her cinnamon eyes glowing. Cam felt it to his toes. He wanted to put that expression on Evan's face every day for the rest of his life.
“Are you nervous to meet my family?” he asked.
“Nah.” She waved him off. “Parents love me. I’m the nerd, remember? They assume I’m the one who's going to keep their kids from getting into trouble.”
“Little did they know.” He bumped her gently.
“Right?” She laughed, that husky, sexy sound that drove him wild.
“That's why you’re perfect for me. You look all sweet and innocent, but I see that troublemaker inside you.”
The front door opened.
Cam's mother leaned down to pick up a package. When she stood back up, she looked to where they stood, and Cam lifted his hand with a broad smile. Kate Canto dropped the box and covered her mouth with both hands. Cam could see the tears running over her cheeks and the backs of her fingers. She turned back to the house and shouted for her husband.
“Aarón! Aarón! Come here right now!” Then she hurried down the stone steps and rushed to where he stood at the end of the driveway. His mother was a tiny woman, but she crashed into him with full force, sending him back a half-step and knocking a laugh out of his mouth. She didn’t say a word, just squeezed him as if reassuring herself he was actually there. Cam gave her a minute—she was always open and emotional, but he sensed she needed this—then said, “Hi, mom.”
Cam returned Evan to the circle of his arm.
With a sniff and a swipe at her eyes, his mother pulled back and assessed her son and the woman by his side.
“And this must be Evan.”
“Hi, Mrs. Canto. It's so nice—” His mother's embrace cut off her words.
“Welcome, Evan. Cam has told me so little about you.” She shot Cam a mock glare. “Come on inside, and I’ll get you fed.”
“That's the best thing I’ve heard in months,” Cam agreed.
As they started up the walk, his father appeared in the doorway.
“Camilo!” his father shouted as he came barreling up to them. Cam was a younger version of his father. At sixty-seven, his dad still had a thick head of chestnut hair with just a touch of distinguished gray at the temples. He had the same golden irises that were now misted. If anything, Aarón Canto was even more emotional than his wife. He lifted his son a foot off the ground, then set him down, clapped him on the back, and grabbed the duffle that had landed on the lawn. He greeted Evan like she was already a member of the family.
“Merry Christmas, Evan. Aarón Canto.” He held out a hand, and she took it. “Cam picked a hell of a week to bring his first girl home. It's going to be a madhouse for the next several days.”
Cam felt her pleasure at his father's words, and she leaned closer. She looked up at him as she replied. “In my experience, Cam doesn’t do anything halfway.”
“Ah-ha, she has your number.” Aarón led them into the house, and Kate guided Evan toward the kitchen.
His father held Cam back. “Cutting it pretty close, my son.”
“Sorry it took an extra day, but it was necessary.”
Aarón Canto's gaze went to his wife as she disappeared down the hall. “I understand.”
“Interrogation later, dad. I’m here for the food.”
Through his laughter, his father said, “there's my son.”
“It's good to be home.”