For the Plot (All for Love #1)

Chapter 51

51

Josefine

As I zip the last of my bags, a dull seasick feeling sweeps over me. I shrug it off, and when my vision blurs at the edges, I attribute it to my inconsistent use of blue-light-blocking glasses. For zero-point-two seconds, my stomach plummets and I worry I’m pregnant. But I literally finished my period three days prior, so I push that fear aside.

Carrying my bags to the door, I can no longer ignore the concerning sensations happening in my body. A large knot clings to my diaphragm like a leech, making it impossible to take in a full breath. I pour a glass of water from the sink, my hands trembling, but swallowing makes me feel like I’m drowning.

I rest my elbows on the edge of the sink, and when the tightness in my chest and tingling down my arms don’t subside, I seek out Cam.

“What is it, baby?” he asks when he spots me standing outside the shower door.

I hold my right arm tight against my body like a ball of yarn. If I let go, I fear the anxiety may unravel into a full-blown panic attack .

He doesn’t even bother with a towel when he steps out from the shower. He grasps my shoulders and ducks his head so I’m forced to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

I try to take a deep breath, but the knot at the base of my lungs has turned into a baseball, making it next to impossible to force air past. “I think I’m about to have a panic attack,” I sputter.

Without a word, he guides me to the bed. “Lay down, sweetheart.”

Obediently, I crawl in. Cam follows, drawing the sheets over us and curling up behind me, drenching my sundress in the process.

“We’re going to breathe together, okay?” he says, wrapping his arms tightly around my chest.

“Follow my breath, baby. Inhale. Exhale ,” he directs. “Inhale. Exhale. ”

Fighting back sobs, I coerce myself to match the rise and fall of his chest. Though it takes many tries, he remains patient, whispering “that’s it” and “almost there” until my vision returns and my breaths come easier.

Rolling over, I press my face into his chest, inhaling orange and bergamot, imploring the scent to take me to the memory of the moment we confessed our love.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Always, baby.” He kisses the top of my head.

Enveloped in his arms, I share my fears about which version of my mom will greet me today and about whether I’ll ever finish my book.

Cam holds not only me, but space for my worry. We lie in bed for what could be minutes or an hour until my breaths are even and full again.

When his bare ass crawls out of bed, I laugh.

“That’s the only time you’re allowed to laugh when I’m naked,” he teases, pulling me up beside him.

I hug him, then glide my hands down his fine ass, giving his cheeks a squeeze. “I love you.”

The whirlwind of unease and apprehension my anxiety caused fades as soon as I see my mom. She looks healthier than she has in a decade, and not just because of the on-site salon at Desert Haven. While false hope lurks in the shadows, the light at the end of the tunnel shimmers in the distance.

My mom is already enrolled in an outpatient program close to home and is optimistic about her recovery. She talks the entire drive to Santa Monica, and I'm turning around to look at her so much that I have to ask Cam to pull over so I can jump in the back seat to keep from getting carsick. She met Cam for the first time when we picked her up, but by the time we make it back home, she has already fallen in love with him.

We stay with her, but by the end of the week, she kicks us out, claiming I’m suffocating her.

I’m not ready to return to the other side of the country just yet, so we find a furnished apartment available for sublease a few blocks away. Like most places in Southern California, it doesn’t have central air. That’s the true test of any relationship. Making it through the hottest days of summer without AC and coming out on the other side.

It doesn’t take Cam long to find clients in the area. After uploading more pictures from Crete and Palm Springs onto his socials, he collects quite the SoCal clientele. Seeing him do what he loves makes my heart so happy.

For a few months now, Mom and I have been going to therapy together once a week. After she apologized for not being the parent I needed her to be, I accepted that she did the best she could while struggling with extreme grief. Following my dad’s death, she was paralyzed over where to go or what to do next. It was painful to share our truths—and there were a lot of tears—but I feel optimistic about her treatment plan.

While we can’t change the past, and while I have more work to do on my own, we’re slowly rebuilding our relationship, and I’m hopeful about where we’re headed.

The most surprising part about sharing therapy with my mom is how it opened my creative floodgates and allowed me to finish my book. Spoiler alert: All the good words aren’t actually taken. I finally found them.

In honor of this huge accomplishment, Cam took me to Catalina Island for the weekend, where we pretended to be back on Crete (complete with another round of sensory-deprivation play).

Writing this book would not have been possible without therapy and a supportive partner, and while I feel deep sorrow that my dad is not here to witness this dream come true, I know that wherever he is, he’s proud.

Cam once asked me if the young woman in my book finds her way in life.

My response was “I don’t know.”

But now, on the day I’ve submitted my debut novel, Plot Twist , for publishing, I can finally say: Yes, she does .