Last night was the first night sleeping in my own bed in my condo in Seattle. Since my treatment is now complete, I was able to leave California yesterday and get back to Washington.
My family had greeted me at the airport, and we went straight out to celebrate my homecoming with Mexican food. After, I went home to a cold and empty apartment, dreading what I had to do.
Part of my treatment is to talk about my short pregnancy, tellhimwhat I had done, and confess the truth.
Last we spoke, I led Dean to believe I had a miscarriage. He assumed, and I didn’t correct him, but my doctor says I have to now. Coming clean and sharing that with him is essential to my recovery.
So, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to tell Dean I had an abortion so I can be free of the guilt, put it past me, and move on.
It’s been three months since I’ve seen him or heard his voice. We ended things that night in the park, and I had planned on things remaining over between us and never having to see him again, but deep down, I knew that was impossible. Especially since his design firm is responsible for designing my building, I’m bound to see him again.
Plus, I’m still in love with him.
Too afraid to hear his voice sooner than needed, I text him instead, asking if he’d be able to meet me at a local coffee shop. He replies instantly and agrees to it.
My parents recommended I take some time before telling him since I only got home yesterday, but I need to do it now. I’ve waited long enough; I can’t wait any longer.
After a long, hot shower and dressing in black skinny jeans with a pair of white Vans and a beige off-the-shoulder sweater, I pull my hair back into a ponytail and then leave to meet Dean at the coffee shop.
Luckily, I’m the first to arrive, allowing me time to order a coffee to calm my nerves. I’ve gone eleven years without seeing him, three months shouldn’t have me as nervous as it does, but I can’t get my hands to quit shaking or my stomach to stop doing flips.
I’m generally not a nervous person, but today I sure seem to be.
The bell above the door rings, indicating another person has entered the space. Raising my head, our eyes connect from across the room like magnets. A slow, seductive smile spreads across his devilish mouth, his eyes staying on me the entire time he walks toward me.
“Not going to lie, I was surprised to hear from you, but it was a very welcome surprise.” He pulls out the chair across from me and sits down.
‘Thanks for coming. I wanted to talk.” He nods, remaining silent and allowing me the chance to say what I need to say. To finally tell him the secret I’ve kept all these years and refused to ever talk or think about. “So, I need to start by explaining where I’ve been. I know you’ve been trying to contact me for the last few months, and I haven’t answered. I’ve been in California at a mental health treatment center. In fact, I just got back yesterday.” His eyebrows shoot to his hairline in surprise.
Concern softens his handsome features. “A treatment center… are you okay?” I nod.
“I am now. For years I’ve been fighting depression, and most of the time, I’ve been able to pull myself out of that dark place in my mind, but after losing Luca, it only became worse, and instead of getting proper help, I took medication that numbed the pain. It wasn’t the right medication for me, and I was only getting worse.” I sigh. “I’m taking the right medication now, and I’m good. I feel much better, like myself again. I went through something traumatic when I was fifteen and never properly processed it, so for years, I’ve been bottling up my emotions and only damaging myself.”
He reaches across the table and takes my hands in his. “The miscarriage?” he questions. Of course, he’d assume that since I hadn't corrected him then. Now it’s time to fess up and tell the truth.
“Please understand that I was young and alone, and you had left for school, and we had our whole lives ahead of us. I made the right decision for both of us, but I was alone and had no way to work through the emotions. I became really depressed afterward, which was the start of my mental health issues. Since then, it’s only been getting worse little by little.” I sigh, squeezing his hands tighter and taking slow and controlled breaths. “Dean, I didn’t have a miscarriage.”
He blinks, his face contorting in confusion. “I don’t understand. What happened, Camille? What did you do?”
“We were both so young, and a baby wasn’t in our plans at that point in time. I did the right thing. I know it.” He pulls his hands away, anger darkening his eyes.
“What did you do?” he rasps through clenched teeth.
“Dean, I had an abortion.” Dropping this bombshell on him doesn’t make me feel as good as I thought I’d feel after finally telling him the truth and getting it off my chest.
I can see the pain and confusion in his eyes. “You killed my baby?” His cold words stab me in the heart. “You knew that I wanted to have a family with you one day, and you killed the chance we had.”
“One day, Dean, one day. Not at fifteen and eighteen. It’s my body, and I chose what was best for me, for us.”
“You were fucking selfish. Don’t you think you should’ve called me and at least told me you were pregnant and asked for my input?” He shakes his head, looking me up and down in disgust, a look I’ve never seen from him before.
“My body, Dean. My choice. I didn’t need permission from you or anyone else to do what was right for me and my future. I wasn’t selfish. By not having a baby, we both got to go to school and become something. Do you really think you’d be where you are right now if I had had our baby?”
“Don’t you dare, don’t you dare fucking try and take credit for my accomplishments because you chose to be selfish.” He stands, so quick that his chair falls back with a thud. “You’re a liar, and you’re selfish. The woman I loved never would’ve done what you did.” He turns his back and leaves me sitting there with tears in my eyes and my jaw on the floor.
This is not how I expected him to react. Actually, I don’t know what I expected, but it sure as fuck wasn’t this. I had hoped he’d be understanding and realize what a tough decision I had to make at such a young age.
Instead, he got upset and left.