“That’s just going to make it worse,” I whisper. “I don’t care, Paisley. What I care about is you. If you’re over this, we’ll leave.” “That’s going to give him more ammunition,” I tell him. He drops his fork and lifts his hand to cradle my face. I hear Mom sigh and Dad grunt, but I ignore them. “You are my priority,” Cameron says. This time, his voice is strong and no longer a whisper. “Say the word, baby. I’ve got you always,” he says, leaning in to press his lips to my forehead.
