We’re over.
So fucking over.
Once we’re settledback in at home, Karina tries to get an appointment with her obstetrician, but she is unable to see her for another two weeks.
I call Marjorie to tell her my plan to work from home for the foreseeable future, and Marjorie, being the best fucking assistant ever, is already putting a plan in place to keep the place running while I’m home. She even agrees to make a trip to my home to bring me some supplies from the office that she’ll be unable to send over email.
I also choose to cut back on my workload, and after speaking with my partners at my architecture firm, they agree to take on a few of my clients so that I can have more time to spend with Karina.
Camille is the first client I pawn off on Anthony, one of my partners. Luckily, everything is already finalized, and her build already in progress, so there isn’t much anyone else needs to do. All Anthony needs to do is follow my notes and detailed instructions to ensure everything finishes by the scheduled date. I trust him completely.
As expected, Camille blows up my phone and email with questions about why I’m transferring her to someone else. I have Marjorie respond to her inquires, being too much of a coward myself to speak with her. Too worried that if I do, I’d bow at her feet and go back to her; but I made a deal with God. He kept mine and Karina's baby safe, so now I must hold up my end of the deal and stay away from Camille.
Here's to hoping it’ll be as easy as it sounds.
THIRTY-EIGHT
NOW
Camille
It’s been two weeks since Dean walked out on me that night at the lighthouse.
Two weeks since we’ve spoken, and nearly two weeks since I received an email from his assistant informing me that Dean’s partner, Anthony, will now be the new person in charge of my build. Apparently, due to personal reasons, Dean is taking a step back from work. Since we’re already in the building phase and all the plans and blueprints have been approved, everything should flow smoothly with Anthony.
You bet your ass that that email pissed me off, and I tried to contact him multiple times—each call going ignored, every text going unanswered.
After about a week, I finally got the hint. Dean is done with me.
He took the coward’s way out and couldn’t even tell me on my face. After our history and all that we’ve shared, he couldn’t man the fuck up enough to tell me to my face that he didn’t want to see me anymore.
I told him about Declan and I divorcing when we were together at the lighthouse, and I was going to tell him that I wanted us to finally be together. I was going to lay all my cards on the table and hope that he wanted me as much as I wanted him.
Foolishly, I had wanted him to choose me. Instead, he chose her.
She called, he went running, and that’s the last I’ve seen of him.
I don’t have the right to feel hurt by his actions. Not when he was never mine to begin with. I knew our affair couldn’t continue, and I was ready for it to end, but I didn’t anticipate it ending like this, or hurting as much as it does.
Not sure what hurts the most. The fact he couldn’t break up with me to my face, or the fact he pawned me off on his partner. My building means something to me, and he knows that but clearly doesn’t care, considering he so easily sent me to work with someone else.
What the fuck ever.
I don’t have time to wallow and be upset that the married man I was seeing is back home with his wife, acting as if I don’t exist. I brought this on myself by having an affair in the first place, so I can’t feel sorry for myself now.
Instead, I’ve busied myself with work during this time, which is where I am now.
I’m sitting behind my desk, reviewing employee files and resumes and looking through the internal applications I’ve received from my New York employees interested in transferring to Seattle. The head of HR posted the internal postings a few weeks ago, and the response has been mind-blowing. I hadn’t been aware that I had so many loyal employees who would be willing to move across the country for the opportunity to work with me in Seattle.
I’m occupied reading over an application when my intercom beeps, and Emily's voice cuts through. “Excuse me, Camille, sorry to bother you, but you have someone to see you.” I roll my eyes at that. When I got to work this morning, I’d asked not to be disrupted unless it was necessary.
With a sigh, I reach forward and press the green button on the black intercom that sits on my desk. “Thanks, please send them in.” My fingers tap against the stack of papers in front of me. My nerves are shot; I’m anxious and on edge. Hopefully, whoever it is at my door will be able to provide the distraction I need to get me out of my thoughts.
Sadie had emailed me earlier saying she’d be sending over some documents, so I wonder if she decided to deliver them in person instead. When a light knock comes to my door, I don’t bother standing; instead, I yell out, “Come in!” and sit back in my chair, crossing my legs underneath my desk.
The door opens, and my fucking jaw drops at the sight of the person who enters my office.
Karina.