“I’m glad to hear that. Tell her I said hello.”
He nodded and asked, “How’s Neville?”
“As neurotic as ever.” I’d left him in his plush bed with his security blanket and favorite stuffed pineapple toy, and with his favorite show—Beverly Hills, 90210—playing in the background. I’m pretty sure he’s team Dylan and Kelly, as he seemed more agitated when episodes of Dylan and Brenda together came on. Who knew my dog would be a hopeless romantic and love old reruns of the once-popular teen drama?
Andrew chuckled before giving me another hard stare in the mirror. We had come to the time of reckoning. Andrew gripped the back of the chair as if trying to keep his mouth shut. Not that many years ago, this scene would have never played out. He would have already gone to work or scooted off to mix color. Instead, he was searching my eyes, as if he were looking for me.
I took a good look at myself in the mirror, trying to find that woman too. Staring back at me, I saw who Ben wanted me to be. Long hair in waves, too skinny, afraid to be myself. It dawned on me how much I was still letting him control my life. His words and actions had made me doubt and doubt until I didn’t even question their validity anymore.
Miss Sparkly started popping up in my head again. I’m still here, please don’t be afraid of me. I just want to help you.
My eyes, now with a sheeny mist, drifted up and met Andrew’s imploring eyes in the mirror. I bit my lip and internally warred with myself. Holding on to who I had become was a safe place where no one could hurt me . . . well, except myself. I realized that was exactly what I was doing by holding on to this version of me who Ben had created. I had cropped him out of my photos, but I needed to crop him out of the rest of my life. With a big, deep, courageous breath, I smiled at Andrew. “I was thinking that maybe you could work your magic today.”
A smile a mile wide appeared on his bearded face. “It’s about time.” He patted my shoulders. “I’ll be right back.” He headed for the color room.
I fidgeted a bit in my seat, knowing I had taken a monumental step and was scared out of my mind. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Miss Sparkly said, You got this.
I pulled out my phone and clicked on Rachelle’s message.
Me: I’m so sorry. The only thing I can tell you is to trust yourself right now. Even if that means not giving up on Dave.
I almost choked on my pride typing those words.
Rachelle must have been waiting for my reply, as she responded right back.
Rachelle: Who are you, and what have you done with Cami?
That was a good question. I was trying to figure that out.
Chapter Six
Good morning, Ex-Filers, are you looking to lose some weight? Let go of the dead weight of your exes’ thoughts, manipulations, and expectations. It’s the best weight you will ever lose. I promise. Use your past as a learning tool, not something you keep sabotaging your future with. I know it’s easier said than done and it’s a process, not a onetime event, but pick one thing today and like Elsa says, “Let it go.”
Hit me up in the comments and let me know the weight you’re losing today.
Lots of love,
Cami
I flipped down the visor in my car and looked at my new ‘do. My hair was the best weight I had lost in a long time. I’d been obsessed with looking at it the last few days. Andrew had outdone himself with the textured, choppy bob he’d given me. He’d even added a few highlights around my face to brighten it up. I felt like a whole new person—a little like old Miss Sparkly. She was super giddy, to the point I had to temper her a bit, but that said, I’d teared up when Andrew had done his big reveal. He must have taken a hundred pictures of me to put on his social media pages. He was so happy I’d let him have his way, he didn’t charge me for it. Of course, I had to swear that I wouldn’t tell anyone about that. He didn’t want it getting around that he was a nice guy. His secret was safe with me.
I ran my fingers through my shorter beach waves one more time before I had to do my job. I was on the California side of the lake today to take pictures for an upcoming listing. I didn’t typically do anything on this side of the lake for obvious reasons—as in, Ben. Admittedly, I was getting a little rashy knowing this was Ben’s turf. But the listing agent begged me to do the photos. Her famous clients loved my work, and they would only sign with our agency if I was part of the package. It was flattering, but they were friends of the friends of Penelope and Jackson Devan, a professional hockey player. I had done a lifestyle shoot for them back East. It was the shoot I had come home early from to surprise Ben with the best news. News that never got shared.