Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
She says, “You look familiar to me. Have we met?”
“A long time ago. I’m sure nothing you’d remember.”
Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she says, “What’s your name?” I point at the black letters on the wall. She hums and then adds, “Story Salenger? Nope, nothing.”
“Maybe you’ll recognize my married name? Mrs. Cooper Haywood.” I imagined that feeling a lot better when it played out in my head, it being a more you reap what you sow sort of moment.
Camille doesn’t huff and storm off. She just looks at me and then asks, “And that’s your son? Cooper Reed?”
“Yes. It’s our son.”
Looking back at the photos, she covers her stomach with her arm.
I touch her arm. “Are you okay?”
“No. I went to see my husband at the office earlier.” Her eyes water. “He told me he wants a divorce because he and his mistress are having a baby.”
My head whips around to see Louise laughing and touching her belly, celebrating the news. When I turn back to Camille, I say, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I went to see him to tell him that I’m pregnant.”
Oh. My heart sinks for her. Tears spring to her eyes, and she’s quick to dig a pair of large black Chanel sunglasses out of her bag. She puts them on and says, “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I made your life miserable.” Her arms go wide. “You win. You won, Story. You got everything I ever wanted, and I got what I deserved.”
Other patrons look our way.
I lower my voice and try to see her eyes through the dark shades. “I was a single mom for years.” Her lips part in surprise as she stares. I continue, “So I understand what that’s like. I’m well-acquainted with the fear that comes along with it.” I dig a card out of my pocket. “If you’d like to grab a cup of coffee and talk about it, give me a call.”
With the card between her fingers, she asks, “Why would you do that for me?”
I shrug, not sure myself, quite honestly. “You just seem like you might need a friend.”
“I have friends. Lots of friends,” she says defensively.
“Okay. Use it or don’t. Either way, you have my number.”
She looks around with offense disfiguring her face, but then pockets my number in her purse. She looks awkwardly around the gallery, and then says, “You’re a very good photographer.”
“Thank you. Cooper’s not for sale,” I say, my husband or the photo, to make sure I’m clear.
She laughs lightly. “He never was.” Walking toward my Closet Collection—shoes, bags, candy wrappers, and diet drugs—she says, “I really like these and would like to buy them.”
“Really? Do you want to know the price?”
“No. Whatever it is, double it.” She hands me a black credit card. “But can we ring them up before my husband cuts me off?”
“Absolutely.”
“That’s wild,” Cooper says, spooning ice cream into his mouth.
“I thought so, too.”
“I don’t understand how you can be so nice to people who literally plotted for your demise.”
“Two reasons, I’d never want to be so lost in life that I’d wish that kind of ill will on another person. Secondly, everyone deserves a second chance.” Holding my finger up, I add, “Except your parents. They can rot in hell.”
He chuckles and then presses his cold, sticky lips to mine. I purr. “Delicious.”
“Just like you.” I thought he was leading that somewhere, like into the bedroom, but nope, he finishes the ice cream and sets the bowl down, and says, “Did I ever tell you about this girl named Eliza from back in college?”
I put my hands up. “Stop. We’re not going to do this. If you slept with her or anything else, I’m not interested in that part of your past.”
“Can’t I just confess?”
“No.” I tap his chin. “Just let it go. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Are you sure?”
Since he sounds like he really wants to get this off his chest, I ask, “Are you sure?”
“She’s been in the rearview for a long time.” He lies back on the couch, and I settle down next to him.
“Then that’s the answer.” Lifting up again, I say, “You’re not going to believe this. Camille bought four of my photos.”
He strokes my hair back and tucks some behind my ear. “That’s incredible.”
“They were revenge purchases, but she still bought them for forty thousand dollars.”
“Holy shit.”
“That’s what I said,” I say, my voice pitching.
Since we’re struggling to get comfortable, he’s the one now sitting up. “What’s a revenge purchase?”
“She paid for them on a credit card to get back at her husband. But she did say how much she liked them.”
He pulls me onto his lap. “Of course she liked them. They’re amazing. How about we go out this week and celebrate? I’ll even let you buy me dinner since you’re the money bucks.”