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“How did the doctor appointments go?”
She looked down at her hands and put down the napkin when she realized it was nearly shredded. “Everything is healing. Trent hasn’t been sleeping well, though. Sweating at night. He just feels like crap all the time, but he keeps saying I’m overreacting. He’s more concerned about the doctor saying he’ll have physical therapy for a while. He’s nervous he won’t be able to tattoo anyone again.”
“He didn’t break his hand,” I said.
“His wrist. A lot of his job is in the wrist.”
I tried to offer a comforting smile. “He will. What about you? How’s the head?”
She touched the still-pink scar that ran along her hairline. “I still get headaches. Blurred vision sometimes. It’s okay, though.”
“I’m glad you’re both okay.”
“I know,” she began, hesitating. She picked up another napkin, wringing it like it was her enemy. “I know you blame me. I can’t defend it, so I won’t. I’ve thought about the accident a hundred times, and I would feel the same way you do. He’s already been in a horrible wreck with a previous girlfriend, and he was anxious about getting in a car with anyone else. So, naturally, when he gets in the car with me, I don’t stop. I don’t slow down or pull over. I keep driving—bawling, upset, and not giving the road my full attention.”
Her words caught me by surprise. It was like she’d read my mind, and that made me soften a bit. “Trent said no one could have avoided the asshole who ran into you.”
“Trent says a lot of things,” Camille mumbled. She was touching one of her many tattoos Trenton had drawn on her. “My point is, I tell myself all those things, but I can’t take it back. I can’t blame you for being angry with me, because I’m angry with myself. But I can promise to be more careful and thoughtful, and to learn from my mistakes.”
“And Thomas?”
Camille winced. “Wow, no wonder Travis married you. You don’t pull any punches, either.” I arched one eyebrow, and she wiggled like she was an ant under a magnifying glass on a hot day. “What do you want me to say, Abby?”
“Are you still in love with him?”
“Yes.” A tiny gasp left her mouth, as if that wasn’t what she’d intended to say. “Abby,” she said, closing her eyes. “I love Trent. I’m in love with Trent, and I only want to be with Trent. Thomas and I are over.”
“You’re sure?”
She frowned. “What if … what if Travis died?”
I glared at her.
She held up her hand. “Just hear me out. What if Travis died and years later, you came across someone who made you feel things you never thought you’d feel for anyone else but Travis? Maybe even stronger?”
“Impossible.”
“Right, but what if it wasn’t? That’s how I feel about Thomas and Trenton. Thomas is no longer in my life in that way, and he’ll never be, but I will always love him. When Trenton came around, I couldn’tnotfall in love with him. Believe me. I tried.”
“So, you don’t want to be with Thomas?”
“No.”
“What if Trenton hadn’t come into the picture?” I asked, crossing my arms on the table.
“Thomas had already ended things. He knew we wouldn’t work. And it’s irrelevant, anyway, because Trent happened, and it’s permanent. I don’t wish I was with Thomas. I’m truly happy right where I’m at.”
A waitress approached our table and set down two waters. “Hi, I’m Shannon. Anything else to drink?”
“Coffee,” Camille and I said in unison.
“Easy enough,” Shannon said, turning for the kitchen.
“Camille, I want us to get along. I love Trenton, and he loves you, and that makes you family. I just …”
She looked disappointed, but not terribly surprised. “You don’t trust me, and you can’t put your finger on it.”
“Correct.”
