Chapter 6 - A Day Borrowed From Real Life
Camille did not answer André that day.
She did something more difficult.
She turned off her phone.
At 12:48, Ethan received one final message before she disappeared from the digital world.
Pick me up in twenty minutes. No questions.
Ethan arrived in nineteen.
Camille came downstairs carrying sneakers and a canvas bag.
“Where are we going?”
“You failed the no-questions rule immediately.”
“I need a direction.”
“South.”
“That covers a substantial portion of Florida.”
“Drive.”
They took US-1 out of Miami.
For the first twenty minutes Camille said almost nothing.
Then she put her bare feet on the dashboard.
Ethan glanced over.
“That’s extremely unsafe.”
“I knew you would say that.”
“In an accident—”
“Ethan.”
“Yes?”
“Today you are not allowed to explain risks unless something is actively on fire.”
“That is an unreasonable policy.”
“You agreed to no questions.”
“I did not agree to reckless foot placement.”
Camille lowered her feet.
“Happy?”
“Significantly.”
She smiled.
It was the first unguarded smile Ethan had seen since breakfast.
They kept driving.
Eventually Camille told him where they were going.
Bahia Honda.
She had visited the state park as a child.
Her father had taken Camille and Max there before he left the family.
That final detail came casually.
Ethan did not ask.
Camille noticed.
“You can ask.”
“Why did he leave?”
She watched mangroves pass outside the window.
“Another woman.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I was fourteen.”
“That doesn’t make it less significant.”
“No.”
Camille looked at him.
“André was the first man I trusted after that.”
The connection was obvious.
Camille laughed without humor.
“Yes, I know. Daddy issues. Very original.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“You thought it.”
“I thought losing trust that young probably changes what stability means.”
Camille became quiet.
“That is annoyingly reasonable.”
“I’m professionally trained in systems.”
“There it is.”
At the park they walked along the shoreline.
The sky was violently blue.
Tourists snorkeled near the rocks.
Children built castles.
For several hours, Camille was not a woman deciding between two men.
She was simply Camille.
She raced Ethan into the water.
He lost.
She accused him of cheating anyway.
They bought terrible frozen lemonade.
Ethan got sunburned on one shoulder because Camille had missed a spot with sunscreen.
“You did that deliberately.”
“Yes. My plan for romantic domination begins with uneven UV exposure.”
“Romantic domination?”
Camille froze.
Ethan looked at her.
Neither spoke.
She looked away first.
“Bad joke.”
“Was it?”
Camille stood.
“Come walk.”
They followed a trail away from the beach.
At a shaded picnic table, Camille finally switched on her phone.
Thirty-seven notifications.
She stared.
“Regret?”
“Instantly.”
Most were family group chats.
Four messages were André.
Camille opened none.
Then she looked at Ethan.
“Tell me about Rebecca.”
“Why?”
“Because you know everything embarrassing about my romantic history.”
“I know approximately forty-eight hours of it.”
“Which apparently includes the executive summary.”
Ethan sighed.
“Rebecca was a pediatric surgeon.”
“Impressive.”
“Extremely.”
“Beautiful?”
“Yes.”
“Smarter than you?”
Ethan frowned.
“Why is that relevant?”
“That means yes.”
He smiled.
“She was brilliant.”
“How long?”
“Four years.”
“And you never proposed?”
“I bought a ring.”
Camille stopped.
“What?”
“I never gave it to her.”
“Why?”
Ethan looked toward the trees.
“Timing.”
“That is a coward’s word.”
He glanced at her.
Camille shrugged.
“I’m familiar with them.”
Ethan nodded.
“Fair.”
He had bought the ring two months before Rebecca received the Boston offer.
He planned to propose on a trip to Vancouver.
Then his father died unexpectedly from an aneurysm.
Everything changed.
His mother needed him.
His work became a place to disappear.
The ring remained inside his desk drawer.
When Rebecca asked him to move, Ethan heard the request as one more demand arriving before he had recovered from the last loss.
“So you stayed.”
“Yes.”
“Do you regret it?”
Ethan considered.
“I regret not telling her why.”
Camille listened.
“I told Rebecca Boston didn’t make sense professionally.”
“But really?”
“I was scared.”
“Of leaving your mother?”
“Of leaving everything.”
Ethan looked down.
“My father died with no warning. Afterward I became obsessed with controlling whatever I could.”
Camille’s voice softened.
“Work.”
“Work. Money. Schedule.”
“Emergency batteries.”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“So Rebecca wasn’t asking you to change cities.”
“No.”
“She was asking you to accept uncertainty.”
“That took me eight years.”
Camille looked at him.
“Until Sunday night.”
“Apparently.”
For a long time, nothing moved between them except the wind.
Then Camille said, “I think André and I keep confusing history with destiny.”
Ethan remained silent.
“We have known each other so long that letting go feels like admitting those years were wasted.”
“They weren’t.”
“I know that intellectually.”
“That’s the only way I know anything.”
Camille laughed.
Then her eyes filled.
“I loved him.”
“I know.”
“Part of me still does.”
Ethan nodded.
“That’s okay.”
She looked almost angry.
“Why are you making this easier?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re supposed to make an argument for yourself.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“According to whom?”
“Every romantic movie ever made.”
“I don’t watch many.”
“Of course you don’t.”
Ethan leaned closer.
“Camille, if I have to convince you not to choose another man, then you’re not choosing me.”
She stopped smiling.
The air changed.
“I’m not asking you to choose me.”
Her eyes never left his.
“That’s what scares me.”
“Why?”
“Because I think I might.”
Ethan’s breath caught.
Camille immediately stood.
“I need to walk.”
She moved away.
Ethan followed at a distance.
Near sunset they returned to the car.
Neither mentioned what she had said.
On the drive north, Camille fell asleep.
Her head rested against the window.
Ethan turned the music lower.
At 7:41, they stopped at a gas station.
Camille checked her phone.
Her face changed.
“What?”
She handed the screen to Ethan.
A message from André.
I changed my flight. I’m staying in Miami until Thursday morning.
Underneath:
I don’t want your answer by text.
Then:
There’s something else I should have told you years ago.
Camille stared through the windshield.
“What could that mean?”
Ethan handed the phone back.
“I don’t know.”
She looked at him.
For the first time all day, fear replaced indecision.
May you like
“André doesn’t say things like that unless they matter.”
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