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“Don’t what?” Cam asks. He seems genuinely perplexed.
“Don't…” I look around desperately, anywhere but at Cam, “don’t forget to pour us some wine.” I grab the bottle from the fridge.
I reach for the glasses in the upper cupboard but Cam is one step ahead of me. He pulls two down and sets them on the counter.
Thank the goddess it’s a screw cap. A corked bottle would have killed me.
“Sorry it’s not your favorite. I had to get it at the grocery store and the selection was pretty meager. I owe you a cork,” he says with a wink.
“No. It’s fine. Totally okay. No problem. All good,” I blubber.
Our cork bowl is almost full, and years ago, when Cam first moved out and I brought him his first bottle of wine as a housewarming gift, he dropped the cork in the very bowl it’s still in and promised that when the first cork overflowed the bowl, we’d go on a vineyard tour in southern France.
I’m staring at the bowl of corks, mesmerized, as I pour the wine, which splashes over the side.
Cam grabs a paper towel and cleans up the mess, and I take a large gulp.
“Tabs, I was going to say?—”
I tip back the glass and down it. I can’t stop where this is headed, but maybe if I’m drunk I won’t remember and things can go back to normal tomorrow.
”—that is, Abigail Cameron… um… finished book five and I have an advance reader copy.”
I’m so shocked I spit a mouthful of wine all over Cam.
CAM
Tabby gapes at me. “Wait. What?”
Then she squeals and claps her hands together. She bounces on her toes. Then she bends over, clutching her chest. When she stands, her pupils are so dilated—and she’s acting so weird—I worry the corset has done more damage than she’s willing to admit.
“How?” she grabs me by my wet T-shirt then grimaces. “I’m sorry.”
I take her hands in mine. “Breathe,” I say, as much for myself as to get her to calm down.
Fear is just excitement without the breath, I tell myself. I’m going to tell her. This is it. The book club ladies said the Duke should grow some balls, and he’s about to.
First, I’ll admit that I love her and always have. Then, assuming she feels the same way, I’ll come clean about being Amelia Cameron. Tonight made it crystal clear that taking the next step with Tabs is more important to me than signing a new contract with the publisher.
We inhale and exhale together three times. She’s finally looking less crazed.
“Cam, you can’t have a copy. The publisher always sends ARCs to the library, but we haven’t gotten them yet. There hasn’t even been a release date announcement. All we’ve heard is that it’ll be sometime in September.”
“Well…” I grab my glass of wine to wet my throat, which is suddenly drier than snuff, but Tabs speaks again.
“Have you read it?”
I nod and open my mouth.
She presses her palm against my lips. “Don't say anything,” she practically shouts. “No spoilers.”
I breathe in the scent of her fingers, and my lips part, eager to kiss her.
“I said no talking!” She presses her thumb under my chin to close my mouth. “You cannot say a word until I'm done reading the entire thing!”
She runs from the kitchen to the living room, where my laptop is sitting on my desk.
Shit. Shit. Shit. It’s not formatted as an ARC, and the manuscript is open.
