Page 8 of Never the Bride
“Sounds good.”
I extend my arm out. “Well, thanks for marrying me.”
“Anytime.” He takes my hand in something that seems more intimate than a business handshake. “Good luck with lawschool.” His smile is soft and genuine. “I hope everything works out for you, Camila.”
“Same to you, Harrison.”
Even though meeting, marrying, and never seeing each other again was the plan, I can’t help but look back over my shoulder one last time before completely walking away from my husband.
Five and a Half Years Later
Camila
No sane womangets married at the age of twenty-one.
And that’s me being generous with my opinions. I wanted to say, ‘No sane woman gets married,period.But I realize society conditions us from a young age to believe in happily ever afters. Who am I to burst that bubble? Life will pop that dream all on its own—just give it time.
Pessimistic view? I don’t think so.
You haven’t seen what I’ve seen.
Know what I know.
That’s why I’m flying back home to Arizona, leaving acriticalclient to convince my baby sister that she’s making a huge mistake. Bless Selena’s heart. She’s always had her head in the clouds. It’s partially my fault for sheltering her so much, but that ends tonight.
Before you judge me, you should know that Selena and her fiancé met three months ago and were engaged after two months of dating.
And Landon is six years older than her.
And he bought her a ginormous diamond engagement ring—such a red flag.
Just the thought of it makes me grip my luggage handle tighter and pick up my pace.
Carly would kill me for being so late for my flight. My best friend is a little too on the ball. But I maintain that if they’re not closing the aircraft doors as you step onto the plane, then you arrived for your flight way too early.
My high heels clack on the shiny airport floor as I speed-walk toward my gate. This sudden cardio has me feeling a little lightheaded. I spent two hours this morning prepping the Bybee case and forgot to eat breakfast, which is a problem since I’d given myself an insulin bolus. But once I get on my flight, I’ll eat a protein bar and be fine.
My body is used to me pushing the limits.
I glance at the electronic boarding pass on my phone to make sure I’m headed in the right direction, but a call comes in, stealing my attention.
Richard Vanderveer, my boss.
I flip my head, moving my dark curls back from my ear so I can answer.
“Hello, Richard.” There’s a smile behind my words. “Miss me already?”
“Whose idea was it to let you leave early during one of our biggest divorce cases of the quarter?”
“Mark has everything he needs for the Bybee deposition. I saw to it myself.”
“He has everythingbutyour killer instinct. That kind of edge can’t be taught.”
Satisfaction drifts into my smile. “Killer instinct or not, Mark will have to do. I’m about to board my flight.”
Richard’s groan adds to my gratification. “Why are you flying back early? Remind me, what’s more important than work?”
Nothing in my life is more important than work—except my baby sister. It’s just bad luck that I needed to be in California for work on the same Friday as Selena’s engagement party. We don’t usually handle cases in different states, but our client moved to Arizona during the divorce, and his ex-wife refuses to come to Phoenix to negotiate the terms.
