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Holy crap.
Am I really promising to have sex soon?
Dean and I said we’d have sex on our wedding night, but when will that be? There’s no telling when that would be, and now we are both painfully aware that our time together is coming closer to an end every day.
Every day we get closer and closer to the end of us.
He’ll be off to college, and everything will change. I won’t see him every day, and who knows when we’d get married. I have faith and love him enough to know that it will happen, but it’s the not knowingwhenthat I can’t stand.
So yes, I am promising Dean we will have sex soon.
One of these days, before Dean goes to college, we will have sex. I’ll give him my special gift that I’d planned to save until marriage.
But it’s okay that we’re not waiting until we’re married. Because I know that Dean will be my first and my last.
He will be my first and last everything.
TWENTY
NOW
Camille
All week long, Dean has been texting me, and all week I have read his messages and deleted them without replying. As much as it pains me to ignore him, I can’t bring myself to respond. Not when my head is in such a fucked-up place right now.
On Tuesday, I had taken Declan to my office to show him around, and Emily, my receptionist, told me that I’d just missed a visit from Dean and that he had left a message for me to call him.
He texted me twice after that, but it wasn’t about the build, so I didn’t reply.
He says he wants to talk.
It’s as if he’s trying to restart our friendship, which isn’t possible. It can’t be. Not when there are still lingering feelings between us.
We never got closure.Inever got closure.
Our relationship was put on pause eleven years ago, and we both moved on without ever getting closure. I know that’s what I need now; Dr. Reynolds even agrees.
Perhaps that’s why I’m wound up so tight and stuck inside my head. I need closure to finally be set free and move on from Dean after eleven years.
They say time will heal you and that you can get over someone with time. But I don't believe that. Time isn’t closure; it’s just time. Just another passing day.
Since Declan came home, I've been distant, and I know he’s starting to notice that I’m not as okay as I pretend to be. I’ve missed my recent appointment with Dr. Reynolds, and I’ve been working from home in a desperate attempt to avoid Dean. I don’t want to risk running into him at my office if he decides to drop by again.
So, since showing my office to Declan on Tuesday, I've been home.
Home, avoiding Dean, and babysitting Declan because I don't trust him to be alone.
“Earth to Camille, baby girl, what’s up?” I snap my head to the side to face Declan, the man I should be thinking about and focusing on. He wraps his arms around my waist, but the feeling isn't as comforting as it once was.
It’s Friday, the night I’ve been dreading.
We’re going to dinner with Dean and Karina.
With a sigh, I lean against Declan’s chest and inhale the scent of his cologne that surrounds me. “Nothing, just can’t decide what to wear.” Pulling away from his embrace, I hang the dress in my hands back on the rack and grab the red dress with thick straps from the black velvet hanger.
With gentle fingers, he brushes my hair over my shoulder and presses a kiss to my bare skin.
“We have an hour before we need to leave. That’s enough time for some fun.” His hands push up the bottom of my towel until my bottom half is exposed; his thumb and middle finger spread my lips apart while his index finger flicks over my clit.
