Page 61 of Our Way Back

“I’m just joking. But you should see your faces.” She giggles.

I scoot my chair back and stand with an angered huff, throwing my napkin onto the table.

“You know what, you can go fuck yourself, Karina. You would make a terrible fucking mother,” I hiss, hoping my words hurt her as badly as she hurt me.

“Yeah, well, at least I would be able to keep my child alive,” she snarls.

I see red.

It happens in an instant. I don’t know who lunged first or exactly what happened, but one second there is a table between us, and the next second, the table is flipped over, and I'm throwing myself at her like I'm Mike fucking Tyson.

Screams erupt from those around us, but I pay no attention to the other guests in the restaurant.

I barely even register what's happening until a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me away from Karina, who is now on the floor crying, curled into the fetal position.

I'm not positive if I slapped or punched her, but I know there was definitely a physical altercation.

“Get off me! Get the fuck off me! Say something else about my son, and you will regret it!” I yell like a maniac, my body shaking with the rage coursing through my veins.

“Camille! Calm the fuck down!” Declan yells, setting me on my feet just long enough for him to switch positions and haul me over his shoulder like I'm a sack of potatoes.

I look up just in time to see Dean pick Karina up from the floor and wipe her bloody nose before he turns to speak with someone who appears to be the restaurant manager.

I'm fuming.

Never have I been so fucking angry before.

Karina's words cut me deeper than she'll ever know. Deeper than anyone will ever know. She triggered something inside me that I thought was buried.

Guilt.

Her hurtful words make me realize that my son is in fact gone, and it's all my fault.

I knew Declan wasn't acting like himself that night, and I still let him drive. His eyes were red, and his words were slurred, but I still allowed him to get behind the wheel.

Instead of making him give me the keys, I turned a blind eye to his disheveled appearance and was too distracted by our arguing.

I was so distracted that I didn't double-check Luca's car seat to ensure he was properly buckled in, and I turned a blind eye to Declan's addiction. He got behind the wheel, and our son paid the price.

Because of the decisions we made that night, our son is gone.

On the drive home, I don't say a single word. Even once we step inside our condo and Declan undresses me, I remain silent.

We sit in the kitchen, me on the island and him between my legs. He’s icing my right hand—the hand that I apparently punched Karina with. “I’m sorry about what she said to you,” he says with a sigh.

I roll my eyes, his words angering me enough to cause me to speak. “Don’t apologize for that dumb bitch.” He mumbles something under his breath, inhaling deeply.

One heartbeat.

Two heartbeats.

Three heartbeats.

Four heartbeats later, Declan asks the loaded question.

“Camille, is there something going on between you and Dean?”

TWENTY-ONE

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