❄ Camille ❄
I tried to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. That was my first mistake. The moment I walked into the apartment, I moved like a person with a plan. I hung my coat up neatly. I kicked my boots off in the right place. I put my bag on the hook instead of dumping it on the couch like I wanted to.
I was fine.
I was always fine.
I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge like there was something inside that could fix the tight feeling in my chest. Cold air hit my face. Leftover chicken. A carton of milk. Lucinda’s energy drinks. Nothing I wanted. Oak Steakhouse was probably serving our reserved table to another couple right now. The flowers Sebastian ordered would be sitting there anyway, looking ridiculous and sad. I shut the fridge door a little too hard.
“It’s ok,” I muttered
