Page 69 of Secret Submission

That he’d been more concerned with how things looked to her family than how she was feeling hurt so much, she felt like her heart was breaking.

Knowing that some of this was left over from John's hurt.

Not knowing how reasonable or unreasonable she was being hurt.

She felt like a big walking open wound, and someone had just poured a saltshaker all over her. She hadn’t wanted to fight with him. She’d known the way she was feeling wasn’t all his fault. That’s why she’d needed some time to sort through her feelings. She hadn’t wanted to blow up at him. She’d known she needed to get herself under control before she tried to talk to him about it.

And she was so mad and hurt that he hadn’t been able to give her that, even as she blamed herself for not being able to control her temper or her pride. She’d seen the way her tears affected him, yet she hadn’t wanted to cry to get her way, even though if she’d started crying, he probably would have just gotten in the car and let her ride in silence.

But why should I have to cry to get what I asked for?

It wasn’t the first time that question had whispered in mind, though it had been years since she’d heard it. That’s why she hadn’t cried. She’d sworn to herself that she wasn’t going to do that again to get what she needed from a man. From her partner.

Lifting a hand to brush the hair out of her eyes, she immediately lowered it when she saw how badly she was shaking. She didn’t want Camille to see.

But of course, she had.

Camille reached out and patted Julie’s knee.

“It’s going to be okay, honey,” she murmured.

She didn’t ask what was wrong. She didn’t press Julie to talk, which was part of why Julie had called her over Olivia. She wasn’t ready to talk yet, not sure what was going to come out of her mouth, which was why she’d asked Connor if they could just go. That was all she needed.

One simple request.

Which he’d ignored—the same way he’d ignored that she’d wanted to leave earlier.

Was it a sign of things to come? Was it leftover baggage from John?

Some psychologist she was—she couldn’t even sort through her own mess. And she didn’t trust herself to know at this point. She’d already let herself down once with John; was she going to ignore red flags a second time? Set herself up with someone who cared more about appearances than her again?

It hurt so much, and she didn’t know what to do.

And she wasn’t sure it was ever going to be okay.

Burying her face in her shaking hands, no longer able to hold back the sobs, Julie let herself drown in the bitter hurt while Camille kept rubbing her knee, murmuring soothing words that fell on deaf ears.

27

Julie

Ten missed calls, three voicemails, and two text messages from her mom over a four-hour period. It was a new record.

Call number eleven started ringing while Camille brewed a second pot of tea for the girls’ night movie marathon. They’d already had dinner, not that Julie had had much appetite between everything she’d eaten at her parents that afternoon, then how things had been left between her and Connor.

Freddy had taken one look at Julie when she and Camille had come in the door and immediately made himself scarce, so it was just the two of them, which she appreciated.

“Are you ever going to answer that?” Camille asked as Julie’s phone continued to ring.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Julie answered, though she did tap the button to turn the ringing to silent. She could not deal with her mom right now. Even though putting her off was probably just going to make things worse in the long run.

She was self-aware enough to know this was a desperate attempt to regain control in one of the few ways she currently could, but at the same time, she didn’t care enough to try to stop herself. Besides, if she had to listen to her mom spout off about how amazing Connor was and how dare Julie treat him like that, she was literally going to explode.

“It’s not Connor calling, is it?” Camille asked, her tone totally devoid of judgment.

“No, it’s my mom.” Connor hadn’t called. Which was good. She appreciated being given the space, even as she worried about how he was doing. But she couldn’t talk to him when she was still so raw, still sorting through her feelings… there was too much of a chance she’d end up blowing up all over him. And she didn’t think he deserved that.

Granted, she felt pretty righteous in some of her anger, but when she talked to him, she wanted to be able to do just that—talk. Not explode. Some of her anger was also at her parents, she realized, and he didn’t deserve to take the brunt of that anger, too.

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