Never Say Never by Rachael Sommers (books to get back into reading TXT) 📕

you were getting divorced because you’re fighting like before Daddy moved out.” His words rushed out, like he’d forget them if he didn’t say them quickly. “But she said you couldn’t get divorced if you weren’t married, and I asked why you weren’t married, and she said because you have to be in love to get married, but that you don’t love her, so”—he took a breath—“why don’t you love her?”

“I…” She was lost for words, didn’t know what to say to him, didn’t want this conversation getting back to Emily because that wouldn’t do either one of them any good.

“She makes me happy.”

“I know she does, sweetheart.”

“Doesn’t she make you happy?”

“She does.”

“Isn’t that what love is?” He peered up at her earnestly. “When someone makes you happy?”

“That’s a part of it,” Camila said, “but it’s a little more complicated than that.”

“I think you love her but you’re scared.” He hugged his teddy bear, the look in his eyes older and wiser than his five years, and Camila stared at him. “Because Daddy left and you don’t want her to leave too.”

He rarely mentioned his father, but she knew the divorce had affected him, as much as she had tried to shield him from the demise of their marriage.

“I don’t think Emily would leave,” Jaime continued confidently.

“Maybe not”—Camila brushed his hair away from his face—“but there’s something you’re forgetting. Emily doesn’t love me.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“She didn’t need to,” Camila told him, and before he could open his mouth to ask something else, she asked, “Now, are you ready for your bedtime story?”

He nodded, and ten minutes into the book, he was fast asleep, his breathing soft, his arms still wrapped around his teddy, and Camila kissed his forehead before slipping from the room.

His words replayed in her mind the rest of the night, and she dreaded to think what he asked Emily when she was at work, wished she could find out, most of all wished she knew Emily’s responses.

She ate a lonely meal, spent another lonely evening with only the television for company, refusing to dwell on how much brighter it would be if Emily were there with her. She knew she wouldn’t be going to sleep anytime soon, so she worked in her study until she was too exhausted for thoughts of Emily to keep her awake.

* * *

Camila had to attend an awards show on Thursday night, which meant Emily had Jaime duty.

She didn’t mind at all, but the last time Camila had attended a gala, it was with a date, and Emily hoped that an eligible bachelor wouldn’t knock at the door tonight because Camila was sure to lay it on thick if she knew Emily was watching, just to drive the stake a little deeper into her heart.

Not that she was being dramatic or anything.

She was lifting Jaime into the air and spinning him around when the front door opened, and Emily nearly dropped him because Camila was in her bedroom being made over, Chris would’ve called ahead, and as far as Emily knew, no one else had a key.

Jaime squealed in delight as he fell into Emily’s arms, and she balanced him on her hip as she turned toward the door.

A woman wearing an elegant black dress stood just inside the doorway, a pair of black-framed glasses perched on her nose. She pursed her lips as she surveyed the apartment, and when her eyes fell on Emily, she gave her a look that was so withering it made her step back—as if she wasn’t supposed to be there.

“You’re not my daughter.”

Charlotte Evans was even more formidable in person than Emily could have imagined from Camila’s stories, and she tightened her hold on Jaime, aware that Camila tried to shield him from his grandmother as much as possible, though it wasn’t clear if the woman planned to come over and pluck him from her arms.

“Um, no, I’m not. I’m Emily, the nanny.”

“You’re the nanny?” Charlotte scanned her from head to toe. “You’re practically a child yourself.”

“I’m twenty-three.”

“Exactly.”

Jaime was hiding his head in Emily’s hair, and she wished they could both disappear.

“Is my daughter here?”

“Uh, yeah, she’s just—”

But Charlotte was already calling for Camila in a high, shrill voice.

In less than five seconds, Camila had run down the hall, bursting into the living room with a look on her face that confirmed Camila had no idea Charlotte was planning to drop by.

“Mother?” Camila held up her unzipped dress with one hand pressed to her chest; the back gaped open, revealing smooth skin. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“You wouldn’t take my calls.” Charlotte sniffed.

“So you decided to show up at my home unannounced?”

“I’m your mother, Camila—I’m allowed to drop in on my daughter whenever I like.”

“What do you want?”

“To find out if you’re coming to the show tonight—you know they’re honoring me, don’t you?”

Camila’s face twitched, and she nodded.

“Is that really what you’re wearing?” Charlotte’s lip curled as she looked at Camila’s dress, and Emily had never been more grateful to have Sarah as her foster mother.

“Yes, Mother,” Camila said through gritted teeth. “This is a custom-made Versace.”

Emily took a step back, thinking to sneak away to hide with Jaime in his room until Charlotte was gone. Camila looked at her with a face that said “Don’t you dare leave me,” and Emily stopped in her tracks.

“It doesn’t look like it.”

Camila made a noise in her throat that could have been a growl.

“And do you have a date?”

“No.”

Charlotte looked appalled. “Camila, we discussed this. You can’t show up to an event like this alone, especially with your recent divorce.”

“Because God forbid a woman over forty be single in public?”

“Exactly.”

Camila rolled her eyes.

“Let me make a few calls. I’m sure I can arrange something—”

“I told you, I don’t need you to set me up.”

“Really?” Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “How many dates have you been on since Christopher left, hmm?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I know of at least one.” Charlotte answered her own question. “You