Maybe if I kiss Camille at this age, she'll be my wife for sure. Just like my parents. Their love story is my favorite story ever told.
I pucker my lips and lean down to Camille's small figure and press my lips to hers.
Instantly, we both pull back, open our eyes, and burst into a fit of laughter.
My cheeks turn red. "Does this mean you're my girlfriend now?"
"No! I can't be your girlfriend! Mom says I can't date until I'm sixteen,” she states as if I should've known. With her tiny hands, she twirls her dark pigtails.
"Okay, so we'll wait until you're sixteen and then you'll be my girlfriend."
"But you'll be nineteen. What if you get another girlfriend?" The corners of her pink lips curl down in a frown.
I take her small hand in mine. "I won't. Promise." I hold up my pinky with my free hand, and she loops hers around mine.
"Good. Because we're getting married one day, and I'll punch your girlfriend if you get one."
"Okay, calm down, Ali." I laugh at her hysterics.
"Who's Ali?" Her eyebrows pull together in confusion.
"Never mind. Come on, let's go back home."
Hand in hand, we run out of the building and race toward the fence.
That was the first day I realized just how much I cared for my best friend and couldn't imagine a future without her in it.
SIX
NOW
Camille
"Are you going to the support group again tonight?" Mom asks me from across the dinner table.
"No, not tonight. I need to catch up on some work, and a bubble bath is calling my name," I answer before shoving a forkful of lasagna into my mouth.
"She's just trying to avoid Karina, Dean's wife, who she met in the group," Spencer says with a smug smirk, knowing damn good and well that is precisely why I want to avoid the support group tonight. The night of the gala, right after I discovered that my new friend is the wife of my first love, I called Spencer and told her all about it.
Mom shakes her head, exchanging a look with Spence. "Oh, Jesus. You spent the day with him too, didn't you?"
"No, only a few hours. He's the architect who's designing my building, so of course, I’ll see him. We had a meeting this morning and went over some ideas. Doesn't matter. I have an appointment with Dr. Reynolds tomorrow, so that's good enough." I wipe my mouth with my napkin. "By the way, thanks for the heads-up about Dean being back in town.” I roll my eyes. “Whatever, doesn’t matter anyway. Mom, this is amazing. Thanks for dinner." I change the subject before they can continue about the support group or Dean.
It's just us girls for dinner tonight. Dad had an emergency surgery at the hospital, so it's girls’ night. Mom said she was making lasagna, and I'd never miss the opportunity for a homecooked meal. Lately I've been living on protein bars, takeout, and wine. Not exactly a healthy lifestyle, but I haven't had the time to cook.
Luckily, mom catches on to my need to change the subject, but unfortunately, she brings up another topic I don’t want to discuss. "How's Declan? Have you spoken to him recently?" she asks cautiously, causing me to roll my eyes again. She's determined to go from one triggering topic to the next. If she's bringing up Declan, I know there must be a good reason. She knows things with him are off the table for discussion.
My silence is the only answer she needs to continue. "Well, he called me today. He wants to hear from you. He's getting out in two weeks, you know." Dropping my fork and letting it clank against my plate, I toss my napkin on my plate and stand up from the table with a huff.
"Yeah, I know when he gets released." I exit the dining room without looking back, and go to the living room, where I slip my shoes on and grab my purse from the hall closet.
"Come on, Camille. Don't get upset. You know Mom is only trying to help," Spencer says, following me into the living room with Mom hot on her heels.
"Please, sweetie, stay. You don't need to leave. I won't bring him up again."
"No, it's fine. I need to finish working anyway." I hug and kiss them both goodbye and leave just as quickly as I arrived.
I'm annoyed that my mother has been speaking with Declan. And I'm annoyed that my husband had to call her to tattle because I've been ignoring his calls. I don't want to see him. I don't want to speak to him.