Page 10 of Camera Shy

I purse my lips. “No, honey. No.” I press my fingertips against my closed eyelids and feel the cool metal on my ring finger against my cheek. “What I’m trying to say is I’ve had your back through every situation—your highs and lows. I am your biggest cheerleader. I’m the one who told you smuggling cheap tequila over the border was just savvy shopping, that you can’t take your money to your grave so why hold onto it so hard, and that anyone with a blood alcohol level of point-one would of course willingly crawl into a stripper cage—you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”

Her eyes hit the ceiling. “And you believe none of that.”

I blow out a breath and shake my head fervently. “Not a damn word. But I love you. And my job as your best friend is to support you and let you come through things in your own time and your own way. Right now, I need you to do the same.”

Her eyes lock onto the ring on my finger. Why am I still wearing this thing? Maybe I’m pretending. In my mind, I found the damn thing in the cake, wiped it clean, slipped it on my finger to see Mason on his knee, asking me to marry him…not dumping me.

“Did he actually ask you?”

“What?” I squint at her odd question.

“You’re wearing the ring. He said he didn’t officially ask you…to marry him.”

What a freaking odd thing to say. “You guys talked about it?”

I sent Palmer to get me some clothes and toiletries. I didn’t realize she’d sit down to have a heart-to-heart with Mason.

“No.” She shrugs. “Briefly,” she adds. “Obviously, we crossed paths and as I was leaving, I asked him why the hell he would propose to you, just to break up with you five seconds later. When he said he didn’t ask, I asked if he wanted the ring back…”

I narrow my eyes at her. That’s not your place to ask, Palmer. “He told me to keep it.”

“Odd.”

“Indeed. I now own a guilty conscience, non-engagement ring.” Which is worse than no ring at all. I stare at my finger, knowing I’m going to need a vat of Vaseline to get this off. Why would Mason buy this in a ring size too small? Maybe it was wishful thinking. Maybe he thought a proposal would shrink me and by some miracle I’d squeeze into his standards. The ass.

She points at me, her sparkly gold nail polish catching a glint of sun pouring in through the shades. “You should pawn it.”

Rising, I stretch my arms overhead and crack my fingers. My muscles resist like they are permanently frozen in the sit and lie position. Standing…moving…it all feels like a foreign concept and my body protests. I’ve lost four days of my life, moping. It’s time to get the blood flowing again. “I’m going for a coffee. Can I get you something?” I grab my purse from the floor and sling it around my shoulder.

Palmer’s eyes turn to slits. “You better not be going to see him. I won’t let my best friend beg her ex to take her back. He doesn’t deserve you.”

I love her with my whole heart, but her bossiness triggers me. I’m already torn and tormented, and right now I don’t need anyone telling me what I am or am not allowed to do. My heart is bleeding, my jealousy is on fire, and my head is exploding…I’m already juggling too many emotions.

“Palmer, please. I’m thirty years old. You have to let me breathe. I said I’m going to get coffee, but if and when I choose to talk to Mason, I won’t be asking for your permission.”

“Well, you’re staying here indefinitely, right? I thought my job was to protect you from yourself?” Her lips press into a hard line. Her whole demeanor is overly agitated. I’m not proud to say this, but right now I kind of wish I had a friend to tell me that if I wanted to salvage my relationship, it was an option. Maybe it’s a long, hard, broken road, but if I wanted to win him back, the path is still an option.

The truth is Mason could’ve cheated and gotten away with this. I would’ve been none the wiser. I trusted him so much, I never suspected a damn thing. If he was really a pig, he could’ve just lied… But he told the truth. He wasn’t happy. Is he wrong for not wanting to commit to a life of lackluster sex? Did I play a role in the demise of our relationship? I never knew he wanted the sexy girl. I thought loyalty, kindness, patience, and intelligence were enough. Am I dumb for thinking our situation was enough to make him happy?

And the biggest question—was I happy? Or was I just goal-focused? Am I even ready to ask that question that will unravel the past four years of my life?

No.

I want some peace and quiet.

I want to not pick at the wound while it’s so fresh.

I want to stop feeling so broken, weak, and insecure.

I want an overpriced fancy coffee.

“Iced skinny caramel macchiato with no drizzle?” I ask Palmer, making my intentions clear. I’m going where I want, whether you like it or not.

She nods reluctantly. “Thank you.”

I blow her a kiss as I pass the kitchen to make my way to the front door.

“Wait, you’re going right now?”

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