“How do you feel about surprises?” I ask Pippa as I lead her into the elevator. We landed in New York yesterday, and I want to show her as much as I can before we fly back to Sutten tomorrow.
She gives me a sweet smile, tucking a strand of curled hair behind her ear. “It depends on what the surprise is,” she answers, molding her body to mine the moment the penthouse elevator doors close.
I wrap my hands around the back of her neck, savoring the moment with her. I liked waking up with her in my bed. I liked both of us sitting at my kitchen island as Kiley, one of my personal chefs, made us breakfast. I liked lounging around the table late into the night last night as we spent time with my friends. Pippa fit in perfectly with them, and I went to bed thinking how easy it was to imagine her in my life here. How simple it’d be to go back and forth together between our two homes, how amazing that life together would be.
Pippa’s eyes travel over my face as my thumbs brush along her cheeks. She waits for me to respond, but for a moment, I’m too swept up in wanting to ask her what we are. The words to ask her to be my girlfriend are at the tip of my tongue, but I want to do it in some romantic way and not in an empty elevator on a Saturday morning.
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” I confess.
“And who is that?”
I play with one of her curled tendrils of hair. I’d never seen her take so long to get ready in the morning, but she’d spent almost an hour carefully curling her hair and applying makeup. It’s something I hadn’t seen her do before. I sat on the edge of the tub, responding to work emails as she got ready, not wanting to be too far from her. The entire time, I wanted to tell her she didn’t have to change anything about her to fit in here. There was no need for her to put on more makeup than normal or do her hair differently than she normally would, but I kept my mouth shut. If she wanted to wake up and get ready before our day, then I’d wait as long as she needed.
“Camden?” she presses, reaching up to run her fingers through my hair. “You there?” she laughs.
I nod, pressing a kiss against the inside of her wrist. “I’d love to introduce you to my gran.”
Her features soften, a timid smile forming on her lips. “I would love to meet her.”
“Yeah?” My heart pounds inside my chest, loud as a drum. In the quiet of the elevator, I’m sure she can hear it. It doesn’t matter to me if she does. I want her to know how excited I am for the two most important people in my life to meet one another.
“I mean, if you want me to, but I don’t want you to feel like I have to meet her. I can always wait if it’s not something—”
I cut her off by placing my lips against hers. She eagerly kisses me back, allowing me to steal whatever she was about to say. Once the kiss slows, I pull away far enough to be able to speak. “There’s nothing I want more,” I answer, a small laugh escaping my throat. “Although it terrifies me for you to meet her.”
The door chimes before opening, revealing the lobby of my building. Pippa wraps her hand in mine, her cold fingers squeezing my own. “I’m more than ready.”
Having Pippa meet Gran was a terrible idea. The two of them giggle like a bunch of gossiping schoolgirls, casting looks my way as they whisper to one another from across the sitting room.
“Should I be concerned about what you two are talking about?” I ask, looking at both of them from the top of a newspaper. I tried engaging in a conversation with them for almost an hour before it felt like it was no use. They’re two peas in a pod, and I’m just an outsider whose presence they don’t need.
“She’s just telling me about the time you cried at the top of the Statue of Liberty.”
My eyes narrow on a completely unfazed Gran. She gives me a sly smile, feeling content about spilling all my childhood secrets. “He was petrified up there. I couldn’t peel the kid off me to even attempt to take us back to the ground.”
I turn the page of my newspaper, unamused by what they’re talking about. “No one tells you about how it sways,” I note, remembering the first and the last time I ever went to the tourist attraction.
“You cried for an hour even after our feet were firmly planted on the ground.”
“I was a child. It was scary.”
“You were thirteen.”
I place the newspaper in my lap, leaning forward to look at Pippa. “I think Gran is getting rather tired. You ready to leave, shortcake?” The nickname tumbles from my mouth before I can think better of it. Which makes Gran break out in a huge smile.
“Shortcake?” she muses, giving me a knowing look.
My cheeks begin to heat. “You look exhausted,” I hurriedly say, standing up and closing the distance to her.
Gran swats at my arm. “I’m not tired at all. Stop hovering.” I try to grab her again, but she pushes me away. Even in old age, she’s stubborn as hell.
“Camden, are you blushing?” Pippa chimes in, reaching up and pressing her hand to my flushed cheek.
“No,” I clip, fully confident that I am, in fact, blushing.
Gran looks at Pippa, a serious look developing on her face. “Does he call you shortcake often?” she asks quietly.
This was a horrible idea. I don’t know what I was thinking.
Pippa’s eyes bounce between both Gran and me. “He’s been calling me that since we first met.”
I close my eyes because I know what’s going to happen. I know Gran is onto me.
“He has?”
“Yeah,” Pippa answers, her tone unsure. “Am I missing something here?”
“Strawberry shortcake was his favorite as a child,” Gran offers, totally outing me. “He’d beg me to make it for him all the time. It was the one dessert he actually liked. Everything else he wouldn’t bother with. But shortcake? The kid loved it. Even when he’d visit from college, he’d beg me to make it for him. Every birthday and celebration always had strawberry shortcake.”
Pippa holds my eyes. I wish I could climb into her mind and discover every thought running through it. Gran isn’t lying. Strawberry shortcake has always been my weakness, an indulgence I couldn’t deny. When Pippa came barreling back into my life that day at the gallery, the name slipped from my mouth, and it felt right.
Gran digs a bony elbow into Pippa’s side. “I know he’s all tough on the outside and terrible to put up with sometimes, but don’t let him fool you, sweet girl. I think he might be crazy about you.”
I didn’t think it was possible for my grandmother to embarrass me when I’m a grown-ass adult, but leave it to Gran to find a way. I should disappear and pretend Gran hadn’t just outed the nickname that stuck for Pippa, but to do that, I’d have to break eye contact with Pippa, something I can’t seem to do.
“I happen to make an amazing strawberry shortcake. It’s even better as a cupcake. My favorite cupcake to make,” Pippa admits, her voice quiet. She doesn’t break eye contact with me, and I’d give just about anything to climb into that beautiful mind of hers and figure out if she thinks any differently of me now.
From the corner of my eye, I see Gran cross her arms over her chest with a satisfied sigh. “Seems like you two are a match made in heaven.”
