Chapter 16 - The Call From Key Largo
André’s wedding was smaller than Daniel’s.
Seventy guests.
A private garden.
Water beyond the palms.
Camille wore dark green.
Ethan wore the linen suit he had once claimed he would never wear again.
“You kept it?” Camille asked.
“Daniel guilted me.”
“It looks good.”
“I know.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Confidence.”
“Growth.”
Naomi Carter was nothing like Camille expected.
For years, even after André stopped being a romantic possibility, Camille had imagined the woman he might eventually marry.
Some part of her expected herself.
Naomi made that comparison impossible.
She was forty.
An architect.
Divorced.
Mother of an eleven-year-old son.
Tall.
Direct.
Funny.
When Camille introduced herself, Naomi hugged her.
This was alarming.
“I’ve heard so much about you.”
Camille looked at André.
“Should I be terrified?”
“Yes,” he said.
Naomi laughed.
“Mostly good things.”
“Mostly?”
“Enough.”
There was no tension.
No secret rivalry.
No dramatic realization.
Camille liked her.
That surprised her.
It also healed something.
During the ceremony, André saw Camille in the second row.
Their eyes met.
He smiled.
She smiled back.
Then he turned toward Naomi.
Completely.
Camille felt Ethan’s hand find hers.
She squeezed.
At the reception, the band began Kompa.
Of course.
Camille looked at Ethan.
“No.”
“I said nothing.”
“Your face did.”
“My face asked whether you’d like water.”
“Dance.”
“Camille.”
“Dance.”
They went.
Ethan was genuinely decent now.
Camille looked offended.
“You practiced.”
“No.”
“You absolutely practiced.”
“Maybe.”
“With whom?”
“YouTube.”
“Traitor.”
He turned her.
Camille laughed.
Across the floor, André noticed.
He lifted his glass toward Ethan.
Ethan returned the gesture.
No competition.
No victory.
Just two men whose lives had crossed because of the same woman at different moments.
Later, André found Ethan near the bar.
“Can I talk to you?”
Ethan immediately became suspicious.
“Sure.”
They walked toward the dock.
André leaned against the railing.
“I owe you something.”
“You don’t.”
“Probably not.”
He smiled.
“But I’m going to say it.”
Ethan waited.
“When Camille met you, I hated you.”
Ethan blinked.
“You hid that remarkably well.”
“I’m charming.”
“I’ve heard.”
André looked toward the reception.
“I thought you were a distraction.”
“Maybe I was.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“You were evidence.”
“Of what?”
“That Camille had changed before either of us admitted it.”
Ethan looked toward the dance floor where Camille was talking with Naomi.
André continued.
“I spent a long time thinking you got the version of her I was supposed to have.”
“That sounds unhealthy.”
“Very.”
“And now?”
“Now I think people don’t belong to each other that way.”
Ethan nodded.
André looked at him.
“She seems happy.”
“I hope so.”
“She is.”
A pause.
“Don’t make her wait.”
Ethan nearly laughed.
His hand instinctively touched his jacket pocket where the ring box rested.
André noticed.
His eyebrows lifted.
“Oh.”
Ethan froze.
“You saw nothing.”
André grinned.
“Oh.”
“Stop.”
“You’re proposing.”
“Quiet.”
“When?”
“Later.”
“Tonight?”
“André.”
“This is incredible.”
“Please remember this is your wedding.”
“I’m aware.”
André laughed.
“You know she’ll hate anything public.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
Ethan frowned.
“I have a plan.”
André laughed harder.
“Then you are doomed.”
The plan collapsed thirty minutes later.
Camille received a call.
Her mother had fallen at home.
Not serious, according to Max.
But Solange was being taken to the hospital because she had hit her head.
Camille went pale.
“We’re leaving.”
Ethan immediately agreed.
They said quick goodbyes.
André hugged Camille.
“Go.”
Naomi squeezed her hands.
“Your mom will be okay.”
Ethan drove.
The ring remained in his pocket.
At the hospital, scans showed no bleeding.
Solange had a concussion and a fractured wrist.
Painful.
Not dangerous.
By 2 a.m., everyone exhaled.
Camille sat beside her mother.
“You scared me.”
Solange smiled weakly.
“I slipped.”
“On what?”
“Water.”
“Why was there water?”
“I was watering plants.”
“At ten at night?”
“They were thirsty.”
Camille covered her face.
Ethan sat in the corner.
Solange noticed.
“You.”
He looked up.
“Yes?”
“Come here.”
Ethan obeyed.
She studied him.
Then unexpectedly reached with her uninjured hand and touched his jacket pocket.
The ring box made a visible square beneath the fabric.
Ethan froze.
Solange’s eyes widened.
Camille looked between them.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Ethan said too quickly.
Solange began smiling.
Camille narrowed her eyes.
“Mom?”
“I’m injured.”
“That has never stopped you from talking.”
Solange laughed.
Ethan wanted the floor to open.
Camille stood.
“What is happening?”
The ring box suddenly felt like it weighed ten pounds.
Ethan had imagined a quiet dock.
Moonlight.
Words carefully considered.
Instead:
Fluorescent hospital lights.
Aunt Solange watching.
Max asleep across two chairs.
A vending machine humming nearby.
Camille stared.
“Ethan?”
He could still wait.
He could preserve the plan.
Then he remembered the dance floor.
Daniel laughing at him.
André’s warning.
Don’t make her wait.
Ethan reached into his pocket.
May you like
Camille stopped breathing.
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