She knew she was a total hypocrite, because she was attracted to other guys, too. Half the time she pulled Adam closer and half the time she pushed him away. God, she was just so fucked up. Every once in a while, she wondered where that had come from. It wasn't from her mother. Everyone she'd ever talked to about her mom had told her that she was one of the truly good spirits on the planet. It wasn't from her father, either. He was different from her. Certainly a philanderer but always clear about where he stood. If Clark Sheppard was with you—whether you were his client or his lover—he was with you. If he wasn't, watch out. He didn't have that ambivalent thing that Cammie knew was as much a part of her makeup as MAC lip gloss. One day maybe she'd drop fifteen or twenty thou in therapy and see if she could get to the roots. On the other hand, Sam had Dr. Fred on retainer, and look what good
that
had done her.
Someone was approaching. Adam. She felt his weight settle next to her on the swing. He reached over and wiped the tear that was tracking down her cheek. Wordlessly, she buried her face in his shoulder. His arms went around her, and she sobbed her heart out.
“I hate crying.” Cammie edged away from him and wiped her face with the palm of her hand. “I'm a mess.”
He handed her some Kleenex—evidently he'd come prepared. “You're fine.”
No, she wasn't. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “When you said that you're still attracted to other girls—”
“I didn't mean I'd ever act on it, Cammie.”
“Oh, well. Doesn't
that
just make it all better,” she sniffled. “Do you have any idea how many guys want me?”
“Yeah, I do. Can you honestly tell me that you're never attracted to any of them?”
Of course she was. Plus, Cammie knew that he'd heard her say that nice guys bored her. She did not intend to let Adam get the upper hand here, and she knew how difficult this would be, since she was used to appearing as if she had it all together. Perfect on the outside made her strong. Perfect on the outside struck fear in the hearts of others. But tonight she was water-logged, red-nosed, makeup-streaked. Her façade had slipped badly. No one was afraid of her.
“We're talking about
you,
” Cammie insisted. “Or should I say, you and Anna.”
Adam looked confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Other girls. You meant Anna Percy.”
“No, I didn't.”
Cammie pushed her hair off her face. “Let's get Drake the Snake out here to hypnotize you again, then we'll see what you say.”
Adam rested his hands on the thighs of his jeans. He was quiet for a long time. “Okay,” he murmured. “Let's say you're right—”
“I
knew
it.”
“But I'm attracted to lots of girls, Cammie. Just like you're attracted to lots of guys. That doesn't mean we don't love each other. Does it?”
Cammie didn't answer. She wanted him to suffer a little.
“So tell me the truth for a change. Why did you really come to see this guy Brock? And why did you keep it some big-ass secret?”
She folded her arms defiantly.
“Here's what I think,” Adam began; she heard a certainty in his voice that she'd rarely heard before. A fear-lessness. “I think that every time you and I get really close, it flips you out. So you pull some kind of stunt to push us apart. That's why you said that nice guys bore you. Because they—I—scare the shit out of you. You can't be in control and in love at the same time.”
The truth of this hit Cammie somewhere at her very center. It was a truth almost as scary as loving Adam.
“What, you're just supposed to let the other person control you?”
“Not at all,” Adam insisted. “But love—it makes you vulnerable, Cam. That's just the way it is.”
Cammie looked down at the shimmering city for a long time before she spoke.
“Brock knew my mother. His parents were on the yacht the night my mom drowned.”
“Wow.”
She felt Adam's strong hand begin to rub her back, very gently. It felt good.
“I always wanted to ask him if he knew anything about what really happened that night.”
“Did he?”
Cammie nodded. “He did.”
Adam raised his eyebrows. “You want to talk about it?”
“It isn't pretty,” she warned.
“I think I can handle it.”
“He said that at the time my mom died, his father was screwing her. Not at the exact time, but that they were having an affair,” Cammie said bluntly.
“You think it's true?”
“Nope, I think it's horseshit. I remember my mother. She wouldn't screw around. Maybe my father would do that—hell, definitely my father would do that.” Cammie frowned. “He doesn't know anything. But why would he? We were just kids.”
Cammie felt Adam's arm tight around her shoulder. “This must be very frustrating for you,” he murmured.
“No shit.”
“Can I be honest with you?”
Cammie pursed her lips. “Seems like this is the night for it. Fire away.”
“I was sure you were sleeping with him,” Adam declared bluntly. “Brock.”
A few crickets chirped while Cammie considered her answer. She didn't want to lie. “I thought about it. That's true. But we didn't. That's also the truth.”
She saw Adam sag with relief. “I can tell you're being honest.”
“Not completely,” Cammie confessed. “I thought about it a lot. What would you have done if I had?”
“How the fuck should I know?” Adam responded with a grin.
A moment later, the two of them were exploding in laughter so loud it echoed off the canyons.
“I guess that's honest,” Cammie managed to choke out.
Adam caught his breath. “I wish you'd told me before about your mom.”
“I did.”
“But I didn't know it meant so much—I mean, that, that it bothered you that much. I mean, it would bother anyone, but—”
Cammie put one finger on Adam's lips, then kissed him sweetly. “You don't have to say it. I know what you mean.”
“I don't know if you do,” Adam took her hands in his. “I want to help you.”
“With what?”
“With finding out what happened. To your mom. So you'll know. There's a lot that I can do. That we can do. Especially if we work together.”
Cammie shook her head. “It was almost ten years ago. What are we going to find out?”
Adam got to his feet. “I don't know.” He started to pace. “But I'll tell you this—I am very bad at taking no for an answer. Very bad. So, what do you say?”
Good question.
“I don't know,” she admitted. She loved the idea of Adam being her partner. But it was scary was hell. Both because of what she might learn and because it might bring them even closer. “Love sucks, Adam.”
“Yeah?”
Cammie nodded. “I hate feeling all … like the other person can just decimate you. But … I do love you,”
“I love you too, Cam.” He sat, put an arm around her again, and kissed her hair. “But I need to know. …”
Cammie guessed where he was heading. “Do I think you're so nice you're boring?”
“Yeah.”
Cammie honestly didn't know. Had she lied so much that she couldn't even tell the truth from a lie anymore? Could she possibly be that fucked up? The only thing she felt certain about was that she really did love him, in a way she'd never loved anyone before.
“If I thought you were boring, would I do this?” She leaned over and kissed him tenderly.
He rested his forehead against hers. “We'll just play it as it lays, Cam. And really. What I said before, I mean. About finding out what happened.”
“I'll think about that. I really will.”
They rocked, neither speaking, the only sound the creaking of the swing's chains. There were a lot of things about which she didn't know the whole truth. Yet there were others about which she did. She still had Adam.
Adam was different from any guy she'd ever met, even Ben Birnbaum. He didn't just want her. He was willing to help her.
Anna had to look through the whole mansion before she found Cyn. Living room, family room, game room. A room devoted to Brock's father's hobby of hunting, complete with the stuffed heads of various American and African game animals, and a gun collection that made Anna gasp. Several bedrooms, each more ornate than the next—the master one had mirrored walls and a mirrored ceiling, along with a round bed. Two kitchens, a library, and a home gym that would have been the pride of most five-star hotels. It was in that gym—actually, the locker room attached to the gym—that Anna found her friend Cyn. That was only because of the pile of clothes outside the sauna door. When she peered through the small glass window, she saw Cyn perched on one of the wooden pallets inside, wrapped in a black-and-white-striped bath sheet.
Anna shivered involuntarily. The last time she'd been in a sauna, it had been at a spa in Palm Springs, on a weekend getaway with Sam. Cammie had been in that sauna, and Ben, too. Some very hurtful things had been said.
Anna hoped that she wasn't about to repeat the experience as she opened the wooden door. She was hit by a wave of heat. “Can I talk to you?”
If Cyn was surprised to see her, she didn't betray it. Instead, she motioned Anna inside. “Sure. You might want to get naked first, though.”
Anna disrobed in a small changing area and found a fuzzy towel of her own. She wrapped it around herself, tucking the end in, then stepped into the sauna. It had to be new—it still smelled like redwood. The hot rocks glowed neon red.
“God, this is heaven,” Cyn whispered. She was spread out on the upper deck. “I'm going to stay in here until I melt away like the Wicked Witch of the West.”
“Except
I'm
the wicked witch,” Anna challenged. She backed up against the far wall and drew her knees to her chest. “I want to apologize.”
“I can't fucking believe you, Anna.”
She winced. “I'm so sorry, Cyn—”
“
Please
,” Cyn snorted. She twisted her head from side to side, like she was trying to loosen a giant knot.
Anna felt the sudden ache of unbidden tears in the back of her throat. “You're my best friend in the world. I would never go after your guy.”
Cyn rolled over and peered down at Anna. “You think that's why I'm pissed?”
“Isn't it?”
“No, you idiot!” Cyn bolted upright. “I'm pissed because you're
my
best friend in the world, and you never told me how you felt about Scott.”
“Wait. You're not mad that I wanted to—”
“Screw him senseless from the first moment you saw him?” Cyn filled in. “Why the hell would that make me mad? The boy is hot. I saw one of my mother's bitchy friends try to slip him her phone number at the school play last January. And we did
Oedipus Rex
.”
“So what—”
“Here's what.” Cyn hopped down and sat next to Anna. “All those times that I went on and on about me and Scott, our first kiss and our first this and our first that, and all that time you pretended to be happy for me. But the inside, you were going nuts. Am I right?”
“Yes,” Anna admitted, her voice low.
“So if I'm your best friend, blah, blah, blah—why couldn't you trust me enough to tell me?”
Why, indeed? Anna reached for the wooden pitcher of water and poured a little on the rocks. Steam rose to the ceiling; she inhaled deeply, her muscles relaxing. It was hard to stay tense in a redwood sauna. “What was I supposed to say, Cyn? I want
your
guy?”
“Sure. Why the hell not?”
“Because … because … I just couldn't! You're too important to me.”
“Not important enough for you to tell me the truth.”
Anna sat down next to Cyn again. It was hard to accept that all these months, since Cyn and Scott had hooked up in the autumn, she'd done the wrong thing by keeping her mouth shut. She'd been raised to appreciate the value of discretion; that discretion had proved useful so many times when she'd seen other girls blabbing and oversharing, almost always to their detriment. She tried to put herself in Cyn's shoes. If Cyn had been hot for, say, Ben, from the very first moment she saw him, would Anna have wanted to know?
“I don't know how I should have handled it,” Anna finally admitted. “I mean, I know you're in love with him—”
“Nah,” Cyn declared, shaking her head.
Anna couldn't believe it. “But … you're not?”
“I thought I was for a while there. Probably I was. Seduced the man of letters and all that. Plus he's smart and very cool. Not to mention incredibly fine. It was really intense there for a while, especially right when you left for California. But I have to say, it hasn't lasted. I think Scott and I are played out. In fact, I know we are. I need to tell him that. Flat out tell him, hold the mayo and the onions.”
Anna was cautious. “Maybe you're just in a slump and you'll work it out.”
“No, seriously. If you want him, go for it.”
“This reeks of irony, Cyn.”
“Meaning?”
“Well … Scott told me he's not attracted to me.”
It took Cyn a beat before she burst out laughing. Then Anna started laughing, too—in great peals, the way they used to laugh when they'd roll in the autumn leaves near Gracie Mansion in Manhattan.
“You know what?” Anna asked, when she could finally catch her breath. “I don't care! I mean, my ego is a little bruised, I suppose. I remember how I used to see him in front of school, reading
The Onion.
It was like he was a young Jack Kerouac. I used to dream about him. But lusting after him and wanting all of him—they're two different things.”
“Totally,” Cyn agreed. She leaned back against a slanted wooden headrest, then sighed contentedly. “So I guess we're just wild women on the prowl again, huh?”
Anna leaned her head back, too. “Not necessarily.”
“You're joining a nunnery? Taking a vow of chastity? What?”
“Ben Birnbaum,” Anna admitted. She felt a little embarrassed to say so but loved how honest she was being with her friend. It felt liberating.
“You're back with Princeton Boy, and you didn't tell me that, either?”
“We're not together at all. I'm here, he went back to New Jersey in January, we've hardly talked. But I can't stop thinking about him.”
“So hop a plane to Princeton, invite him out to dinner, and then jump him. That's what I'd do.”