"Sorry," said Cameron, screwing up his face, removing the smile he'd left plastered there for a moment too long.

"Sorry?" As much as I didn't want to linger here, I wouldn't let him take the blame for something I did, for once. "I bumped into you, not the other way around."

His gaze was vacant, distant. He clutched his coffee, its lid askew, a few drops dripping down the sides and onto his hands. If the liquid was hot, he didn't seem to react to it, still too stunned by me.

Yet there was something...almost soothing about him. Where he'd usually have light bags beneath his eyes, his skin was soft, its normal tanned shade. Where he'd be evidently tense, shoulders tight, his face showing all the marks of fatigue, of someone who didn't sleep much or well, he looked...refreshed. Surprised by me, for sure, but otherwise calm. Not stressed as was his usual.

And most likely because he wasn't working for Leo anymore.

"Right." He brushed a hand through his tresses, tousling them up, reminding me of days when I'd do the same as we woke next to each other, sunlight streaming over our faces, showcasing us both in our best light. "I meant sorry in general, I guess, but yeah."

I scoffed. He didn't think that was a genuine apology for everything he'd put me through, did he? Surely he meant sorry for being in my way as I ran from the public and tried to hide in the first coffee-shop I found? It was only coincidence that he'd be here, in the same area as me—

"Shit." I tugged on my hood and attempted to squeeze past him, into the shop. "I can't be out here."

He reacted swiftly, slithering out of the way to let me dash inside—but he followed me. And again, he blocked the doorway, ensuring no one could get in or out.

Must be the security guy mentality he still hasn't gotten rid of.

Inside, the essence of freshly brewed coffee—good coffee—hit me in the face, and on instinct, I smiled. I let my hood lower, taking in the aroma, letting my body relax.

"It's great stuff," said Cameron, lifting his own cup before remembering he'd spilled quite a bit of it; he shook it, and it seemed to be half full. "So great that I'm going to need to buy another one."

I shuffled out of his way with a frown, indicating the metallic countertop nearby, where the cashier awaited one of us to come up and order. "All yours. I'm in no hurry."

"Neither am I," he said, gesturing at an empty table in one corner: a small, quaint booth with a checkered tablecloth and flowery decor. "Can we sit, chat? For a few minutes?"

I squinted at him, considering his request. He was serious; he had that look about him that meant he had something to say, something to confess.

Oh, is the genuine apology coming now? Or is he going to hound me with questions about Leo?

"Why?" I crossed my arms, ignoring the tantalizing coffee scent that kept begging me to ignore him and go put in my order. My stomach growled, too; running from the back-alley magazine worked up an appetite. "Chat about what?"

He gulped, stuffing one hand in his pocket, using the other to toss his to-go mug into the nearest trash. "As friends." He winced, focusing on his shoes, which had also been stained by his coffee. I watched him snicker at the stain, but he didn't do anything to fix it. Nor had he bothered to clean the smear over his sweatshirt.

I pulled my purse close and extracted a wet wipe from it, handing it to him as I jutted my chin at the stain. "Might want to wipe that down quickly, before it becomes permanent."

He accepted the cloth and got to work pressing it on the fabric, then glanced at me, lips pressed tight. "Please? Sit with me, a few minutes at most. Like I said, as friends."

I wanted to melt at his candor; at how begging his eyes were, how he tried so hard to keep the strain from his voice. It was obvious he had a lot to say, and I'd made it clear I had little to no time for him. To sit and chat with him now, after everything...I wasn't sure I could do it.

But something in me told me it was necessary. A sort of closure that we both needed.

"Fine." I slipped into the booth he'd indicated. "But only while I regain my bearings and drink coffee. And we're not friends."

He sighed as he joined me, still scrubbing at his sweatshirt. He'd managed to get some of the blotch of coffee out, but he'd waited too long—it would be permanently tainted.

Not my problem. Not anymore.

"So," I said, after ordering a cappuccino, and listening to him order some complicated mocha-based drink. "What did you want to chat about?" I didn't want to sound condescending or dry, but I couldn't help it.

Being in front of Cameron dug up all the feelings I'd had about him, and all the ways he'd destroyed them. Had he listened to me, had he paid attention to the cues I was giving him, he'd have known I wanted him, not Leo. As wonderful as Leo was, he wasn't my initial choice. Cameron and I had something on another level, a deep connection that I'd never had with anyone else. Physical, emotional—it was all there.

But it was too late to change that now. I loved Leo, and I'd told him as much. No going back.

"Not so much a chat, as it is..." He cleared his throat, staring at the container of jams and jellies. "An apology."

"An apology?" I drummed my fingertips on the table, desperate for that cup of coffee. Something to wrap my hands around, to keep them occupied so I wouldn't reach over and slap Cameron for his daring. Or caress his scruffy cheeks out of longing. It was hard to admit, but I missed him. Even with how he'd left things, left me, I couldn't help but recall our good days and wish we could reenact them somehow.

No matter how satisfied I was with Leo, no matter how hard he worked to make me happy—and he did—it'd never be the same as with Cameron. But I'd accepted that the moment Leo and I kissed that night, after Cameron dumped me. Something clicked between us, and while it wasn't the same strength as what I'd had with Cameron, it was strong. Clearly, since I'd fallen in love with him.

"I know, I know," Cameron groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "too late, too little, and all that shit, right? But hear me out." His eyes zipped up and met mine, sharp and spicy as they'd been the first time I saw him. "Please. Let me get all this out, even if it is too late, too little."

I didn't want to hear it, but I'd agreed to sit with him, and I was still waiting for that cappuccino to be delivered. He'd cornered me, even if he hadn't meant to; now all I could do was listen to whatever excuses he could scrounge up to hopefully gain my forgiveness.

"All of it," he blew out a breath as he deflated in his seat, "was a lot. The fake dating...I know, I shouldn't have pressured you into it at all. I should have said no for you, but I was so focused on not overstepping or making assumptions or removing your willpower...I've been with so many women who would have hopped over rivers of lava for this opportunity, and I'll admit I misjudged you as one of them."

I arched an eyebrow. "Because I was a Leo fanatic?" My fingers curled, then uncurled as I processed what he was saying. He'd taken me for some love thirsty groupie who'd stop at nothing to get her hands all over Leo. And while I had fantasized over being with him at first, I eventually only had eyes for Cameron. "Sure, I liked him, I crushed over him. But I was with you."

His eyes narrowed as he fiddled with his spoon, glancing towards the cashier who'd taken our order. "You were, but I...I didn't know you. Or I thought I knew you based on what I'd researched, and..."

"Right." I scowled at him, in dire need of that coffee—for something to remove the acidic taste of betrayal from my mouth. "Your research of me and my social media habits trumps my actual personality, of course." The sarcasm rolling off my tongue was so instinctive, so natural, I didn't bother to conceal it.

He cringed, and set his tightened fist on the table, his knuckles turning white. "I know, Emma. I'm aware how big of an asshole I was, deciding to believe what you posted online versus who you were in person. But then the fake dating all became too real to me, and I panicked. I snapped. All my thoughts were irrational, and I couldn't differentiate them from reality. The dating did become real, though, no matter how you want to deny it."

My body shifted backwards, pressing into the booth cushions. "Of course, I'd deny it, because it wasn't real."

"It was." Cameron's expression became stony. No longer searching the depths of mine, longing for approval, for forgiveness. Now he was telling me, not apologizing. "I could see it happening, and maybe it wasn't as much on your end, but Leo...he was serious. I've known him for a long, long time, and I know his tells, okay? When he's playing, when he's telling the truth. And with you," he swallowed, dropping his stern act to peer down at the table, "it was real. From the beginning."

My turn to gulp, my legs jittering under the table. To say I felt nothing for Leo back then was a lie, because I was already falling for him, albeit slowly, but doing my best to stop myself since I was with Cameron. I was taking measures to get away from Leo, to put an end to all this. But Cameron thought it was all on Leo's side, from the start? That when he'd asked about the fake dating, he was already thinking it wouldn't always be fake?

"I see that brain of yours overthinking," he said, breaking into my zone-out, his voice tentative. "It wasn't you. It was never you who gave me the most doubts, though I saw you developing real feelings, too. But I saw you actively trying to alter that. Him, on the other hand," he snorted, "not so discreet. I haven't seen him look at someone like that in a very, very long time."

My eyebrows bunched. "Like what?"

The cashier arrived with our coffees, as well as a bonus plate of macarons, on the house because our drinks took so long to get ready. Since my stomach was demanding food, I wouldn't decline. As I waited for Cameron to formulate another sentence, I plopped one of the pastries into my mouth.

Not quite LaDuree, but tasty, nonetheless.

And there it was—the look. I wasn't sure if Cameron was trying to replicate it for me, to mimic Leo and show me what he was talking about. Or if he was the one stuck that way while observing me in my struggle to not scarf down the rest of the macarons in a famished frenzy. But it was there. Eyes slightly slitted, glistening. Lips parting just enough to expose his tongue dancing behind them, hesitating on words, on actions. A gentle flush on his cheeks, a wrinkled, concentrated brow, and the corners of his mouth twitching, itching to move into a smile.

I'd seen that look on both of them, now that I thought about it. Now that I had it in front of me to decipher. And to witness it on Cameron's face here brought me so much emotion. So much pain. Because it made me wonder, for the space of a second, if I should have fought harder to keep him. If I should have demanded a better conversation or stood up for myself more. I should have told Leo to go fuck himself for interfering in our relationship, for making me doubt all my feelings.

But Cameron's immaturity, his ease with breaking my heart...that had been enough for me. I didn't want to fight harder for someone who'd make assumptions so easily and wouldn't trust me. No matter how I once felt about him—and from the flicker of warmth in my heart, how I still felt, apparently—it was over. He'd made it so, and there was no way to change that.

"I realize what I did to you, to us." He took a sip of his coffee, licking the foam from his lips—making me want to lick that foam off myself. A shiver crashed through me as I focused on my own drink. "I broke your heart, hurting my own in the process. I really am sorry, Emma."

The sincerity in his words made me peek up, to join our gazes. His was watery, and his lips down-turned. He held his cup with both hands, but I saw the fingers trembling, as if about to cautiously grab mine, to squeeze, to prove he was telling the truth.

"I'll never get a chance to make up for it, I'm aware. But please, for the sake of...I don't know, for the sake of my past with you, my past with Leo...can we at least be friends? You said we weren't, but could we try?"

In that moment, he resembled a kid begging his parents to let him watch that one TV show he wasn't allowed to. He resembled the teenager pleading for approval of his kind of out-there girlfriend that his parents didn't want him to date. Or the adult man who eagerly wanted to show his ex-girlfriend how full of regret he was, and that he'd do anything to be in her good graces again.

A tiny pinch in my belly and a flutter in my chest had me sitting back, shaking my head, closing my eyes. It was the same sensation as when we'd exchanged numbers, and as when I met up with him at the restaurant after weeks of texting each other.

"No?" The dejection in his voice prompted me to reopen my eyes and find him frowning. As if his face were about to melt off and splash into his coffee. "You don't want to?"

"No," I shook my head harder, "I mean yes, I do want to be friends. The no was—" I quit the shaking and anchored my head in place, firmly. "I was lost in thought. Yes, we can be friends. I don't forgive you, and you're right that I probably never will, but...there's no reason for hostility. We're adults."

He flinched, then gave a subtle nod as he picked up his mug and brought it to his lips. "Friends, then."

"Friends," I eyed him sternly, "but I don't think we should see each other in person or text too much." I hadn't erased his number, no matter how many times I'd been tempted to. A few funny memes here or there would be acceptable; but I wouldn't have lengthy conversations with him like we used to. Not when I'd have someone looking over my shoulder with raised eyebrows and a snarky comment. "Because I worry Leo is the jealous type."

Cameron laughed, struggling to swallow his gulp of coffee. "Yeah," he said at last, setting the cup down. "We both are, and that's why this whole thing blew up." His laughter faded, his features losing their brief amusement. "I thought you were mine, he thought you were his, but you're your own person. It was up to you to choose, after all. And we," he scrunched his nose, "I chose for you."

We finished our drinks in semi-comfortable silence. Semi because things would always be a smidgen awkward between us, as things between exes usually were.

As we left, and I tugged my hood back over my head, he leaned in for a hug. And on some weird instinct, I accepted it. He didn't squeeze me too tight or too close, but it was enough for me to smell him. The spicy aftershave, a hint of something sugary sweet and delicious. He hadn't worn this on purpose—he couldn't have, he didn't know he'd bump into me—and yet a part of me reveled in the fact that he was so wonderful-smelling, so put-together. Softer than Leo, though he had his own sharp edges, too.

We left separately, but he left first. I waited inside, after texting Leo's car service to pick me up. It was hours after what they'd likely been expecting; and I hoped they wouldn't mention that to Leo.

♪♪♪