Picking up the shoes stacked neatly on the bottom step, she threw them against the front door. Vowing never to drink that much again, she stood up, trying to shake off her melancholy thoughts. She needed to get ready for her gallery opening that started in less than two hours.
Checking her phone, she found a two-word text from Cam.
Forgive me.
The urge to throw up overwhelmed her. Without thinking, she scrolled through her contacts to call him. As her hand hovered over the send button, she debated whether to succumb to her urge to call Cam and confess every last sordid detail of her behavior. In the end, she put her phone down, knowing she couldn’t do it. Telling Cam would not only destroy their six-year relationship, it would also damage his friendship with Jax and possibly their band, too. If confessing her colossal mistake only meant ruining her relationship with Cam, she might actually give in to the desire to clear her conscience, but in reality, so much more was on the line. Confessing was the easy way out.
Picking up the envelope Jax left on her entry table, she traced her name with her finger. I was Cam’s handwriting. She could recognize his bold forward slanting letters anywhere. Ripping open one corner of the seal, she ran her finger through the top seam of the envelope and shook out the contents, letting them fall on the surface of the table.
A folded piece of paper along with a pile of confetti fell onto the table. Seeing the confetti, she almost let herself smile. Cam had been stuffing confetti in their correspondence since he filled her locker with confetti and balloons their senior year along with a note asking her to their senior prom.
Opening the note, she saw an itinerary for a flight to LA leaving next Thursday. At the bottom of the page, Cam’s bold handwriting filled the page.
Bre,
I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your opening. I miss you and I want to see you. Meet me in LA for a long weekend so I can make it up to you.
Yours,
C.
Cam’s thoughtfulness nearly brought her to her knees. While Cam had been busy making sure they spent time together, she’d been busy, for lack of another word, with his friend. She already felt enough guilt for her selfish actions without being reminded of how thoughtful and charming Cam used to be. Her breath stalled, and she feared she would crumble under the weight of her grief for their relationship, for Cam and Jax and yes, as selfish as it sounded, for herself, too.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to rein in the downward spiral of her emotions. She didn’t have time to fall apart right now. She had to get to the gallery, her gallery. Forcing herself back upstairs to get dressed, she numbly went through the motions of taking a shower and getting ready. Skipping the grand opening and wallowing in her misery was not an option. She worked hard to recruit talented artists, and if she didn’t show up tonight she would lose some of the trust she tirelessly worked to establish, both with Michael and the artists.
Short on time, she showered quickly, systematically washing all the physical and not so physical reminders of last night off her body. Once she dried her long chestnut hair, she haphazardly arranged it into a loose topknot and slipped on an ivory one-shoulder silk dress. Taking extra time on her makeup, she methodically created a smoky eye look, hoping it would disguise any lingering puffiness around her eyes. She loved putting on makeup almost as much as she loved painting.
Being part of the art world was as much of a similarity to her mother as she could stomach, but she refused to give it up. Her entire life had revolved around art for as long as she could remember, whether it was painting, watching her mother paint, studying art in school, or working at a gallery; it was in her blood, a part of her.
With one last critical look at herself in the mirror, she smoothed down the front of her dress. Except for the slight puffiness of her eyes, she looked nice. Trim, tall, almost too tall in her opinion, almond shaped light brown eyes, long roman nose and olive skin. She would have liked to have an exotic eye color or lose two inches in height, but other than that she was happy with her appearance. Giving herself a silent pep talk as she walked out of her house, she prayed she could get through the night without having a meltdown or letting guilt swallow her whole.
Chapter Nineteen
Arriving thirty minutes before the party officially started, she hurried past Michael, ducking her head in a futile attempt to hide the fact that she had arrived an hour after the agreed-upon time. Reaching the door of her office in the back of the gallery, she turned around to make sure Michael didn’t see her.
“I hope your lateness doesn’t mean you aren’t prepared for the event tonight.”
“Michael, I’m really sorry. I had a bad day.” The minute the words fell out of her mouth, she wished she had left them unsaid. Now, Michael, and shortly the rest of the people in her life, would know that Cam couldn’t be bothered to show up again.