Chapter 4

"T-talk about what?" I stammered.

"Let's talk about you," she replied.

"Me?" I echoed.

She nodded, her eyes unreadable behind her glasses.

"Last night, you were the one who asked for my number first. You were the one who invited me to the hotel, weren't you?"

I tried to say something, but there was no way I could argue.

The booze gave me some liquid courage, but I really did say all that.

"So, when are you going to announce to everyone that we're together?" she asked, her voice dropping, sounding a bit curious.

"What?" I blurted out.

"When were we together?" I asked.

Camilla didn't say anything. She just leaned back, crossed her arms, and studied me in silence for a few seconds.

Her gaze was as calm and unfathomable, but it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"Robert, so you're planning to take what you want and then act like nothing ever happened?" she said. "Do you really see me as just a disposable fling?"

"No!" I blurted out.

But as soon as I met her eyes, all my bravado vanished.

"We were both wasted," I mumbled. "It... it was just an accident!"

"An accident?" she shot back.

"Funny, you didn't call it an accident when you had me pressed up against the hotel window."

The icy glass, her hazy, almost suffocated face reflected back at me, my hands burning as they clutched her waist...

Damn it!

Those broken flashes rushed through my mind all at once.

"Want me to jog your memory some more?" she said, getting up and taking a step closer. "Like, all those things you whispered in my ear..."

"Stop!" I blurted out, throwing my hand up, my ears turning so red they could catch fire.

"Camilla! What... what exactly are you trying to do?" I stammered.

She finally stopped moving closer, tilting her head slightly as her black hair slid over her shoulder.

"What do I want?" Camilla echoed, her tone suddenly going flat. "Robert, you were the one who made the first move last night."

"Since you kicked things off," she said, raising her hand and tapping my chest with her index finger. The touch was so clear it sent a jolt through me, even through my thin T-shirt. "Now, we play by my rules."

"Camilla, we're both adults. It's pretty normal, isn't it?" I said. "Besides... you're married.

"Hooking up after drinking is already a mistake, but if the other person is someone else's wife? That's even worse. We can't keep going down this wrong path."

Things went quiet for a few seconds.

Then I heard her chuckle softly. I couldn't tell what she was feeling.

It was a laugh that sounded both mocking and playful.

"So... what if I told you I'm a widow now, a bashful and pretty one?" she said. "And what if I told you last night was my first time? Would you step up and take responsibility for that?"

The air froze.

A pretty widow? And her first time? Did I hit my head or something? Was I hallucinating?

I locked eyes with her.

Camilla tilted her head, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"Wait... you're seriously a widow?" I asked.

"Yep, my husband's dead as a doornail. No coming back," she said.

I couldn't help but ask again, just to be sure.

Then, she casually fished a deep red document out of her purse—looked like some kind of official certificate.

"Want to see?" Camilla asked, as if she were just talking about the weather. She opened it up and flashed it in my face.

No spouse listed.

At least, that was what I caught in that brief glance.

So... Camilla was single now?

"I..." I stammered.

"As for whether last night was my first time..." Camilla snapped the household registration booklet shut and tossed it onto the couch, then stepped even closer.

"Robert, couldn't you tell?" she said.

Did I really not notice?

Chaotic flashes from last night flooded my mind.

My cheeks burned, and I couldn't meet her eyes.

"Why... why didn't you say anything yesterday?" I stammered.

"Say what?" Camilla smiled and brushed my cheek, teasing, "That I'm a widow now, so you're welcome to try your luck?"

"That's not what I meant!" I blurted out.

"Then what do you mean?" she shot back. "Robert, look at me."

I had no choice but to meet her gaze.

Her eyes were complex, with depths I couldn't read.

There was even a touch of vulnerability in them.

"Word is you got married after you came back," I said.

"Who told you that?" she shot back.

"Just... someone brought it up at a class reunion a few years ago," I stammered.

"So you just believed it?" Camilla smiled, but her smile didn't reach her eyes.

"You couldn't even be bothered to ask me—just labeled me as someone else's wife and walked away, feeling like you did nothing wrong?"