I’m floored. He seems so much older. More mature. Twenty-nine is practically a baby! Suddenly I feel like Methuselah, nearly a thousand years old and counting.
“Uh-oh,” he says drily, examining my pinched expression. “She’s thinkin’. No good can come of this.”
I blow out a breath too hard, which causes my lips to flap in a truly unattractive way. But I don’t care, because it’s Cam, and he’s seen me at my worst. “I remember twenty-nine. It was actually harder than thirty. Once I was over that hump, I accepted I’d never be young again.”
“Everything’s relative, lass. There’s a sixty-year-old grandma out there who’d give her eyeteeth to be thirty-six again.”
“Oh, thank you for that pearl of wisdom. How comforting to know the elderly are jealous of me.”
“Sixty isn’t elderly!”
“Dude. Serio
