I stepped a little closer and leaned forward to ask, “Cammie, can we go somewhere and talk? I’d really like to tell you some things.”
She looked down at her shoes before glancing over at her best friend. Kristy wasn’t looking at either of us, and when Cammie’s eyes met mine again, she pursed her lips before saying, “Sure.”
I reached for her hand and interlaced my fingers with hers. Feeling her soft hand in mine sent spasms of want shooting through my body. I pulled her through the crowd and out the ballroom doors, ignoring the pleas of old classmates who called out, asking us to stop and chat.
Frustrated, I had no idea where to take her. Looking to the left and the right, I noticed a sign with an arrow pointing the direction toward the hotel bar and restaurant. Figuring that everyone who wanted to talk to either of us was in the ballroom or immediately in front of it, I decided to head to the restaurant. When my grip on her tightened, Cammie didn’t try to pull her hand from mine, and I read into that as if my life depended on it.
The restaurant was dark and empty. I pulled on the door to test anyway, ignoring the Closed sign that stood in front of it. Not believing my awful luck, I yanked once more, but it was locked up tight.
“I think it’s closed,” Cammie said with a laugh.
“You would have done the same thing,” I said lightly.
“Touché.”
Realizing that my only other option seemed to be the bar, I groaned to myself before moving in that direction, Cammie still in hand. Literally. Once inside the dimly lit and tiny-as-fuck place, I mentally took inventory of our options. Seeing a single high-top table in the far corner of the room, furthest from the door, I tugged Cammie in that direction. When I let go of her hand, she immediately took the seat that faced the entrance of the bar, leaving her back against a wall.
I fidgeted, wondering for a moment how to go about this.
“Why aren’t you sitting?” Her face crinkled with confusion, and she looked so damn adorable I had to fight back the urge to lean in and kiss her.
Everything in me was fighting against itself as I looked at the waiting empty chair. Just sit the fuck down, I tried to order my body, but my legs refused.
“Dalton? Are you okay?”
Running a hand through my hair, I looked behind me one last time before I met Cammie’s concerned eyes. “It’s just, well, I can’t have my back facing an entrance. It’s sort of a—”
Her eyes wide, she interrupted me before jumping up from her seat. “It’s a cop thing. I remember. Here, you take this one.” She hopped into the other chair, leaving her back exposed and vulnerable without a care in the world.
“I’m sorry.” I apologized, embarrassed because I knew it seemed irrational to most people, but I’d been trained at the police academy to always sit facing a room’s entrance. It was drilled into me to be aware of a threat the moment it appeared, and not be taken surprise by it. If there were multiple entrances to a room, I made note of where they were and did my best to sit in the least vulnerable position, my gaze always moving.
My training didn’t simply disappear once I was off the clock. It was something that had become a part of me and a part of my life. Dalton and Dalton-the-undercover-cop meshed more than I liked sometimes, and I couldn’t help it.
“Don’t be sorry. My dad used to do the same thing.” Her voice softened as she mentioned her father, and I wondered how affected she still was by what had happened to him.
“Did he?” I asked, wanting to open this door. I needed this segue, and she offered it up to me again.
She averted her eyes, looking past me at the wall. “Everywhere we went. I can’t believe I sat there. I would have never done that if he—” She stopped, her eyes returning to meet mine, and I wanted to hold her, kiss her, and tell her everything would be okay.
“It’s been a long time, Cammie. It’s okay to sit there now,” I said. “I mean, obviously not right now now, ’cause I’m here.” I stammered, my words not coming out as cool and collected as I wanted them to, and she giggled into her hand as she covered her mouth. “Ah, shit. You know what I mean.”
She looked over at me, her eyes glistening a little. “I know it’s been almost twelve years, but sometimes it feels like it just happened. You know?”
I shook my head. “I don’t. I’ve never gone through something like that. But I can imagine you’d never truly get over it.”
“You don’t. It’s always there and the second you forget, something pops up to remind you. Stupid things like a scene in a TV show, or a song on the radio, or those damn bridal shows that are on all the time.” Her voice got quiet as she drifted off into her own thoughts.
I reached across the small table and grabbed her hand, squeezing it. “Hey, stay with me,” I said, needing her attention so I could get everything off my chest.
“I can’t believe you’re here right now,” she said softly. “I can’t believe we’re here right now.”
“I came here for you,” I admitted, putting it all out on the line. Ten long years had passed, and I refused to waste another moment of it.
She pulled her hand from mine as she inhaled a shaky breath. “For me?”
“Yes, Cammie. For you,” I repeated. Let there be no confusion, Miss Carmichael, I will not be letting you get away this time.
“Dalton! Dude! Where the hell have you been? No Facebook, no nothing! We’ve missed you.” Rob Jenkins sauntered up to our table, slurring his words and knocking the cocktail napkins off of the table.