Chapter 2: Camille - Love On Time

Chirp, chirp. The headlights flash as Drew unlocks the car. I stop dead in my tracks.

“You rented a convertible?” I ask, my jaw falling open.

Drew flashes a wide grin. “Not just any convertible, Cami. A Mercedes.”

He pops open the trunk and lifts our luggage inside. The muscles in his forearms flex against the heavy weight of my overpacked suitcase. My eyes widen, desperately trying to force my stare anywhere but the veins flexing through his skin.

“And why a Mercedes?” I ask, clearing my throat, trying to remember exactly what we were just talking about.

He walks over to the passenger side and holds the door open for me. My pulse skips a beat at the unexpected but familiar gesture.

“Thank you,” I whisper as I slip into the tan leather seat and pull the seatbelt across my chest. Drew slides into the driver's seat and puts the key in the ignition, the V8 motor roaring to life.

“It’s my best friend’s wedding in a gorgeous destination,” he says, pulling out of the rental garage. “The sun is shining, the air is warm and fresh. Why not do it right?”

“Sounds like something straight out of your travel blog,” I say with a smirk. The second the words leave my mouth, regret pools in my stomach. Shit. I just admitted to keeping tabs on his life online. I swallow hard, trying to find something interesting to look at out my window.

Drew looks over at me, beaming, one hand on the steering wheel and the other over his heart. “You read my blog?”

“Well, we do have copies of the travel magazine that feature your photos and articles at my library,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“How is the job, by the way?” he asks, his tone softening. “You always did have your nose buried in a book when we were kids.”

“I love it,” I say, the affection for my work overtaking the embarrassment I feel. “I’ve been at the local branch for a year now. I handle most of the event coordinating and the kids' summer reading camps.”

I finally look right at him, really taking him in. He’s different. More mature. His features have sharpened, framed by a well-groomed beard, and his brown hair has grown out just enough to curl under the brim of his hat. He still has those mesmerizing hazel-green eyes. He’s strongly built, but the bulky football frame from high school is gone. He is the kind of muscle that is more sculpted, simply crafted from traveling and his outdoor excursions. He’s even more striking now than he is in my memory.

Heat rolls up my neck, forcing me to break the stare.

“That’s really amazing, Camille,” Drew says, a warm smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m glad you’re doing something you love.”

I give him a small appreciative nod and slide my sunglasses on. I rest my head against the seat and let out a deep breath—a sense of calm drifts between us, easy and unforced. The wind carries the scent of the fresh lake air, whipping my hair back behind my shoulders as the scenery rolls past. My mom wasn't exaggerating, this place really is breathtaking. Drew reaches over to turn on the radio. The music blends with the hum of the engine as we navigate the winding roads toward the Estate.

* * *

I’m hanging the last of my clothes in the closet when a knock rasps at my door. Before I can answer, Ivy comes bolting in and flops directly onto my perfectly made bed. I can’t help but smile as I close the door behind her. Ivy has always been a literal ray of sunshine.

She and Cooper met the summer before their senior year of high school when her family relocated from Michigan to California, and my brother has been smitten since day one. They even went to UCLA together, where they moved into an apartment and finished school. Now, she works as a Pediatric Physician Assistant, which makes perfect sense, because she truly has a heart of gold. Out of all the girls Cooper ever dated, Ivy was the only one who genuinely wanted to be my friend. Now that I have her as a sister, I couldn't be more thrilled.

“So tell me everything. How was your drive here?” She smiles, hands placed under her chin.

“You didn't plan that, did you?” I say, giving her my most serious, non–serious look.

“Plan what?” She laughs, totally unconvincing.

I roll my eyes. “It was fine, we didn't really talk much. With the top down, it was hard to carry on a conversation over the wind.” I pull out my dress for tonight’s welcome cocktail hour, shaking out the wrinkles before setting it on the ironing board.

“Holy shit, are you wearing that tonight?” Ivy says, eyes widening at the dress in front of me.

“Yeah, Why? Are you wearing black? I can pick something else!” I say nervously, the bridesmaid panic settling in.

“Are you kidding? That dress is hot. You are absolutely wearing it,” she says, sliding off the bed to get a closer look. “Besides, I'm in all white this weekend.”

She’s right, the dress is incredible. It’s a black midi bodycon with a square neckline, delicate frills on the shoulders, and a sleek cutout at the waist. The moment I saw it online, I knew it was the one. In fact, every dress and outfit I packed for this week is brand new.

“Anyways, I wanted to stop by and check on how you're feeling,” Ivy says, her delicate voice softening. “I know you're going to be seeing a lot of people from the past this week. Some who weren't exactly nice to you.” She reaches out and squeezes my hand. “I just want you to enjoy yourself and not worry about a thing.”

“Thank you, Ivy,” I say, a rush of gratitude washing over me. “I'll be fine, honestly. I'm not worried, and I am not the same girl I used to be.”

“Good,” Ivy beams, a spark returning to her eyes. “Because I bet there are going to be a ton of eligible guys checking you out this weekend!”

My cheeks flush. “Oh, I don't know about all that.”