CHAPTER FIFTY
Coconut Grove, Florida
December 25
Cam kissed Evan's hair as she snuggled close. At three in the morning, his dark childhood bedroom looked normal enough, but he knew once the sun rose, she would see the bedroom of a teenage boy. The walls were decorated with posters of Dan Marino and the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Shelves were filled with high school soccer and baseball trophies. His dresser held framed photos of Cam with his sisters and school friends. There was a picture of him with a former Vice President at a reception after Cam had been awarded the Silver Star. Of course, there was also a picture of a six-year-old Cam in traditional Chilean garb performing a native folk dance.
He placed his hand over Evan's, where it rested on his broad, smooth chest. He was planning to slip out of bed when a thought hit him. He had extracted himself from a woman's bed so many times—easing her body away and tiptoeing around the room to grab his clothes from the floor, leaving a note on a counter or a table. This was different in every conceivable way.
It pained him to separate himself from the woman melded to his side. The moment he slipped to the edge of the bed, he felt her absence. Nevertheless, he had a tradition when he was home. He didn’t know if it was superstition or hunger, probably both, but he always crept down to the kitchen in the middle of the night, snagged a plate of leftovers, and ate alone at the granite island in the quiet.
Years of training had enabled Cam to move with the silence of a shark. He descended the front hall stairs and crept into the kitchen. The bright space was yellow and white with gleaming countertops and professional appliances. He pulled the container of stew from the stainless steel fridge, poured a generous bowl, and grabbed a spoon while it warmed in the microwave. Meal in hand, he turned and came face to face with his father wearing pajamas and a smirk and holding a coffee mug.
“You never could sneak around worth a damn.” Aarón jerked his head toward the living room.
Cam whispered, “I don’t know why I’m sneaking around anyway. Shit, I’m thirty-five.”
“Language,” his mother scolded, walking through the room and heading to the walk-in pantry.
“It's three in the morning.” Cam scratched his stubbled beard and accompanied his dad.
Aarón spoke as he strolled to the couch. “It's Christmas. Your mom's been cooking, and I’ve been wrapping. Ever tried to wrap a bicycle?”
Cam entered the vaulted living room; the ten-foot Frasier Fir was heavy with ornaments, tinsel, and white lights. Cam covered his mouth to silence the laugh; it looked like his father had simply unrolled the wrapping paper in circles around the small bike and then done the same with the tape. Strategically placed bows hid the worst of it.
His father shrugged, “Jamie won’t care. The paper will be in shreds in thirty seconds.”
Cam followed his dad and took a seat. The room was decorated in pale gray and white with blue and sage green accents in the art and the throw pillows. Pine roping and candles decorated the mantle, a nativity scene in the center.
Aarón crossed an ankle over the opposite knee and spread his arm across the back of the pewter linen couch. “Now. Tell me about your girl.”
“My girl,” Cam repeated, loving the words.
“The look on your face? I think it was the exact expression I must have had when I first laid eyes on your mother.”
Kate Canto appeared at the arched entrance to the room.
Cam stood and hugged his mother. “Merry Christmas, mom.”
“I love you, Camilo.” Kate sat next to her husband. “Now, tell us about Evan.”
Aarón squeezed her shoulder. “I think he felt the zing.” He kissed his wife's temple.
She shook her head. “You and that stupid zing.”
“What? It was a zing. I felt a zing when I first saw you.”
“I felt no such thing,” she huffed.
“Impossible.” Aarón pulled her close. “What did you feel, my love? A spark? An explosion?”
They were talking to each other now. “Guys?”
Aarón and Kate turned to their son. Kate spoke. “Sorry, love. Tell us how you two met.”
“I will, but I also need your help with something. Evan's never had a big family holiday meal, so I’d like to pull out all the stops.”
“So business as usual then?” his father joked.