Even though… okay, it was true—she *did* have low blood sugar.
But the way he treated her like a kid, fussing over her and all, just made her feel kinda embarrassed.
Camila Davis hurriedly opened the car door and hopped out, saying goodbye. “Drive safe, Mr. Williams. I’m fine, so I’ll just head up. See you after the holidays!”
She waved and disappeared into the hotel lobby, not looking back.
Dennis Williams watched her go, unable to hide the grin on his face.
Up in the front seat, Aaron, the driver, just stared for a second.
Why did the air suddenly feel so… sweet?
Must’ve been those jellybeans she was holding.
***
Camila all but sprinted down the hall to her hotel room. Just as she reached the door, she practically bumped into Walter Wilson, who was just about to knock.
He looked genuinely surprised to see her coming from the elevator, arms full of shopping bags. “You’re up early! And loaded down, too. Feeling any better?”
Last night, after the charity event, he’d stopped by to check on her. He’d knocked for ages, but she hadn’t answered, so he figured she’d just crashed out and didn’t want to disturb her.
Now here she was, bright and early, out and about.
Camila didn’t say much about what happened last night. No need to make Walter worry—she was fine now, anyway.
She nodded. “Much better. I just need to keep taking my meds and I’ll be good. Oh, and this—” she held up a box wrapped in sparkly paper, “—is a New Year’s gift for Lillian.”
Walter visibly relaxed. “Glad you’re okay. Well, get ready—we have a contract to sign later, and I booked our flight back to Harrisburg this afternoon. Once we’re home, you start your holiday break. Seriously, rest up. No more burning the candle at both ends.”
“Got it,” Camila agreed easily. She dropped her stuff in her room and headed out with Walter.

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