Page 63 of Shattered Chords

“It sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

“It sounds ridiculous.”

“For the record, I’m not proud of my old self.”

“I’d be disappointed if you were.”

“Since we’re being brutally honest”—I rested my palm on the tabletop and ran my index finger across its cloth-covered surface—“tell me something I would have never guessed about you.”

Camille shifted again, slinging one leg over the other. Her voice was very low, as if she didn’t want anyone to overhear. “Ally was an accident. I seduced her father at a college party I attended during my freshman year.”

“Go on,” I whispered, sensing that there was more to the story than those two sentences.”

“My parents, particularly my mother, were very strict. One day I just got tired of being perfect and decided to do something outrageous. My friends dragged me to this get-together that apparently had an interesting guest list. One of my classmates was from an affluent family. Her father had connections in the entertainment industry. Ally’s dad was there that night. Tall, good-looking, mysterious. Older. And I wanted new experiences. A few weeks later, I found out that I was pregnant. When I got a hold of him, he didn’t want anything to do with me or his child. He was engaged to someone else.” Camille quieted.

“Was he your first?”

“Second.”

“Men are pigs.” I was only half kidding.

She didn’t disagree. “Most men.”

“And you were a vixen.”

“Oh, I was on the loose. You have no idea what it was like to grow up with my mother. I couldn’t even choose what to wear on my own until I went to college.”

“Hey, at least she cared about how you looked. My mother hated my guts. Still does. Some women aren’t meant to be parents and she’s one of them.”

The silence between us was one of delicate solidarity. At last, we had something in common—parents who weren’t happy with the way we’d each turned out, and I marveled at the fact.

“I hope the food was to your liking,” Camille said, redirecting the conversation.

“It was great. Thank you. I’ll want the recipe,” I teased.

“I didn’t peg you for someone who cooks.”

“Oh, I typically don’t, but since I’m technically unemployed and have time to burn, it’s proved to be a better hobby than golf. I just embarrass myself in front of my housekeeper.”

She laughed, a sound so pure and bright that I wanted to grab it and hold on to it until it made me forget everything up until this moment.

Malik called the next morning while I was still in bed.

“I’m taking you up on your offer,” he told me, then added in a thin voice, “If you still want me to move in, honey.”

“I’m so emotional right now,” I joked, wrapping my arm around Snowflake, who was enthusiastically licking my side and rolling on the blankets.

Tone serious this time, Malik promised, “I’m gonna get you into shape, brother.”

“What’s wrong with me now?”

“You need to pack on some muscle.”

“Women like me the way I am. It’s all about the charm.”

“Whatever you say, brother.”

My gaze crawled across my body. I hated it with all my heart. The fact that it had betrayed me. The fact that my fingers weren’t in sync with my brain.

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