Page 82 of My Sweetest Obsession
“What do you think?”
My cheeks heat. “Remember when you told me you were risking me getting madder?”
She throws up her hands. “Not like that, Ivy. We’re not talking about you behind your back like some mean girls. We both love you, and we’re worried. I’ve been your best friend for most of your goddamn life, and you’ve barely spoken to me about any of this since Cam came clean. All I know is that it seems like you’re falling back into that place you were when Drew died, the place Cam somehow got you out of.”
I cringe because she isn’t wrong.
Things have been bad.
Most days, it feels like time isn’t moving at all.
Some, I wouldn’t even get out of bed if I wasn’t so worried about the baby and ensuring I eat and drink and take my vitamins and do all the things the book I bought tells me I should be doing.
Marlo clears her throat. “Plus…”
I lift my head and meet her intense gaze.
“I know you’ve been sleeping with him again.”
Shit.
I squeeze my eyes closed, but the memories assault me almost instantly—of his touch, his kiss, the way he seems to bring me back to life with every single thing he does…
And how he walks away after looking like I’ve destroyed him.
“I’m not judging you.”
“Really?” I open my eyes and meet hers. “Because it sounds like you are.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not. Things between you and Cam are…” A mirthless laugh slips from her lips. “Complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it. And I know pregnancy hormones do”—she lays her hands over my stomach—“crazy things to people. I’ve read all about how insanely horny you can get.”
I bury my face in my hands, my cheeks heating. “Jesus Christ…”
“What? That’s what the article said. So, I don’t blame you for seeking an outlet for that. One that you think is safe. But we both know with you and Cam, things are not safe because it’s not just sex, and you both know that.”
A frustrated groan rumbles in my chest because she’s right.
Things will never be just sex with Cam.
They never could be, no matter how badly I want to make it be nothing. No matter how badly I want to keep feelings out of it and just take what he can give me and allow him to walk away as if it isn’t hurting both of us. As if I don’t lie awake for hours after he leaves, wondering if I should call him, forcing myself not to call him and beg him to come back…
“Do you remember that day we went and saw the mural?”
I lift my head and nod, finally looking at her again. “Yes.”
Her gaze has softened. “Do you remember what you told me?”
The warmth that flooded my chest at seeing the painting of young Cam and Drew together, doing something that meant so much to them, and their short relationship with their father, comes back.
I nod. “Yes.”
“Well, I’m going to remind you anyway. You told me that you didn’t know what to do with all these feelings. That you didn’t know what to do with him when you couldn’t stop hating him and being so angry.”
“I remember what I said.”
“Good.” She levels a hard gaze at me that demands I look deep into my soul when I answer whatever she’s about to ask. “But is that how you actually feel? Is that how you felt that day? Is that how you feel now? Because the way I see things, what I’ve seen from you over the past several months during the very few times we’ve discussed Cam and what happened, does not look like hate, Ivy.”
My eyes start to burn, my chest tightening as she stares me down with an accusation in her gaze. One I am wholly unprepared to face.
