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The truth is, I don't know who I am anymore. I was once a good wife, a good mother, and a great person who loved life and living.
Now, I'm nothing.
I'm not living; I'm merely existing.
Since last nightat dinner with Mom and Spencer, my head's been in a funk. I had hoped today's therapy session would help me, but it only left me further confused with my feelings.
Stepping off the elevator, I greet Emily, my receptionist, and walk down the long hallway toward my office.
I've just entered and sat down at my desk when my intercom beeps. "Yes?" I answer with a sigh, not in the mood to deal with anyone. I should've spent the day working from home.
"Camille, there's a Karina Jameson here to see you."
I sigh. Elbows on my desk, I lean forward and rub my temples to soothe my throbbing headache.
"Thanks, Emily, you can send her back."
A minute later, there's a knock on my door. Rolling my green eyes, I stand and walk across my office and open the door to reveal the last person I want to see.
Karina has come to visit. Great. How fucking lucky am I?
"Hi Karina, what can I do for you?"
"Hello, Camille. You weren't in group last night, and you didn't answer my calls or texts, so here I am. I just wanted to make sure you were all right." I step aside and allow her to enter my office, closing the door behind her.
"Sorry, my phone died, and I've been too busy to charge it." I grab my phone and spare charger from my purse and plug it into the outlet beside my desk. The red battery appears on the screen showing how dead my phone is. "I had a lot of work to catch up on, so I stayed in last night to work."
"Yeah, I figured you were busy with the new building. Dean is pretty busy himself." Karina sits in front of my desk, and I reclaim my chair behind it. "How did your meeting with him go yesterday? Were you able to come up with a few ideas?"
Why is she asking about this? She's the last person I ever want to discuss him with.
Being the friendly person I am, I answer with a smile. "Yeah, we have a pretty solid plan. He's drawing up the ideas and will show me later." I pick up the sketchbook from my desk and close it, cleaning up some of the papers scattered across the top.
"Good, I'm glad to hear it. It seems you're his only client at the moment. The rest of his design team is handling his client list. He cleared everything to work with you himself. You, his old friend." There's malice in her tone. Does she not believe Dean and I about being old friends? In a way, it's true. We were only friends. We never dated, and she married him. I got the boy he once was, and she got the man he grew up to be.
I may have his past and all his firsts, but she has his future and will have all his lasts.
"That's very kind of him. I'm sorry, Karina, but I'm swamped. Is there anything I can help you with?"
She watches my movements closely for a long minute with a blank stare. Blinking, she smiles and stands up. "No, as I said, I just wanted to check on you. Perhaps we can grab lunch when your schedule clears up?"
"I'm not sure when that'll be. It's a little crazy around here, as you can tell. But I'll try. I will text you." I stand, following her toward the door. I have no intentions of contacting her to plan anything.
"Great. We do need to plan a night out for a double date. I'm anxiously waiting to meet your husband." With a smile and wave, Karina departs, and a sigh of relief washes over me.
Fuck me. I can't be friends with this woman. Not when I share such a deep history with her husband.
A history she knows nothing about, and I hope he never tells her. It's our past, our story, and it doesn't need to be retold, no matter how beautiful it was.
SEVEN
THEN
Camille,12 years old
"Hi, sweetie. Dean is upstairs. You can go on up." Lydia greets me with a tight hug. I thank her for letting me come over, then take off running up the stairs, yelling Dean's name until I reach his bedroom. Without bothering to knock, I open his door and skip over to his bed, where he lies in the middle on his back, sound asleep. Slipping my flip flops off, I climb onto the cloud-like mattress and begin jumping up and down.
"Dean! Wake up! Dean!" I yell, giggling while I jump on his bed, causing his sleeping body to jump and shake.
