Chapter 2
Five and a Half Years Later
Camila
No sane woman gets 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 a critical client 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 everything but your 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.
“I’m going to my sister's engagement party, remember?” I leave out the part where I’m going to convince Selena to call off the wedding. Although, I’m sure Richard would praise me for that too.
“I didn’t even know you had a sister. How am I supposed to remember her engagement party?”
“Richard, if Van and Wendtz Law can’t survive one afternoon without me, I think I need to renegotiate my pay.” My killer instinct tells me to add, “Or demand I finally become a partner.”
My breath hangs in the air with my words, waiting for his response.
I’ve been working my butt off for five years.
I started as an intern and graduated to lead counsel.
The next stop is partner, a position I definitely deserve.
Van and Wendtz is my entire life. I live and breathe divorce cases, and if they don’t reward my efforts soon, I’ll threaten to leave the firm. It’s not personal. Just business.
His silence has me doubting my instincts, but then there’s a heavy sigh, like he’s relenting. “On Monday, perhaps it’s time we discuss your future with our law firm.”
My head falls back, and my eyes close with relief, but my voice remains calm. “Good choice, Richard. It’s the smart thing to do.”
“Yes, I suppose.”
I approach my gate just as they prepare to shut the door to the gangway.
Right on time.
“But for today, Mark will have to handle things.”
The desk agent smiles, though there’s a bit of annoyance painting the edge of her lips.
“Let’s hope he doesn’t mess anything up,” Richard mutters.
“It’ll be fine. I can fix whatever Mark does or doesn’t do.” I give an apologetic grin to the agent. “Anyway, I need to board my flight, so we’ll talk Monday.”
“Fine. Safe travels.”
The call ends, and I swipe to my boarding pass. “Sorry about that,” I say to the gate agent, but she’s all business as she takes my phone and holds it over the scanner.
Stars appear in the corners of my vision, prompting me to grab the counter for a little support. But as quickly as they come, they disappear, so I stand up straight, making a mental note to be sure to take out a protein bar from my carry-on before I sit down.
“Have a nice flight.” The agent returns my phone, not even bothering to look me in the eyes.
I get it. She’s just trying to do her job. To her, I’m late and rudely talking on the phone. I’d be the same way if I were in her position. That’s why I flash a kind smile and wish her a good day as I pass. Women in the workforce need to band together. It’s a man’s world out there.
But on Monday, this woman might become the first woman partner at Van and Wendtz Law.
First, I just have to call off my sister’s engagement.
Hess
I have the entire row to myself.
Too bad it’s a short flight from Sonoma County to Phoenix. Whenever I have long flights, I’m sandwiched between old men who smell like they’ve forgotten to change their adult diapers.
I thought doors were closed and we were preparing to pull back from the gate, but a woman rounds the corner, dragging luggage behind her as she walks down the aisle.
I know she’s headed to my row. I can feel it—the disappointment that comes from seeing your row partner looming down the aisle.
It’s fine. It’s not like I was about to lie across all three seats.
I’d never fit. But I did look forward to having the extra space just in case I wanted to manspread or something.
As she gets closer, she becomes recognizable.
Thin body frame. Flawless skin. Dark-brown eyes. But the most signifying feature: her curly black hair.
It’s my long-lost wife.
She stops in front of me, dropping her purse into the aisle seat. Her brown eyes briefly stop on me, and I’m ready for the dawn of recognition to hit her, but there’s nothing.
Nothing.
I know five and a half years is a long time. My hair is a lot longer now than it was then, and I have scruff on my face, but we did get married. You’d think you’d keep a small memory in the back of your mind of what your spouse looks like, just on the off chance you bump into them on a flight.
She rests her suitcase on the seat and unzips the top, completely ignoring me.
“Ma’am?” The flight attendant is suddenly beside her. “I need you to stow your luggage and take your seat. We’re about to leave the gate.”
“I know, I just…” She rummages through her bag like she’s looking for something specific.
“Ma’am?”
Ma’am? I would have gone with 'Miss.’ Camila doesn’t look anything like a ma’am. She’s more of a knockout today than she was when I first met her at The Waffle House. The years have matured her into a beautiful, classy woman.
“I really need you to take your seat. The captain is ready for departure.”
She rummages for a few more seconds, not finding whatever she’s searching for.
“Ma’am?” The flight attendant’s voice is more stern. “After we’re in the air, you can get what you need.”
“Okay, okay.” Camila seems visibly disappointed as she zips up her suitcase, forgoing the search. She raises her luggage above her head, causing her shirt to lift. My eyes drift to the insulin pump on her stomach. I’m not looking; it’s just eye level and flashing—kind of hard to miss.
I didn’t know she had diabetes. Probably something a husband should know. But as I recall, she was pretty cagey back then. She wouldn’t even tell me her blood type.
The stewardess shuts the overhead bin as Camila drops into her seat. For a split second, she closes her eyes like she’s resting. That’s when I notice the bead of sweat on her forehead.
“Ma’am, your seatbelt.” The flight attendant is all over her.
“Yeah, sorry.” Her eyes open, and she fumbles with the straps. Just as the flight attendant walks away, she stops her. “Do you think I could get a snack or something?”
Irritation causes her lips to purse. “You’ll have to wait like everyone else. We’re trying to have an on-time departure.” And before Camila can respond, the flight attendant is gone.
If I had any food with me, I’d offer her some. She looks peaked.
“Are you okay?”
She dismisses my concern with the flip of her hand. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
They go through the whole seatbelt and oxygen mask drill, and when it’s over, I steal a glance at my wife.
You know, just checking in on her well-being like any good husband would do.
She’s looking at something on her phone, so I guess this isn’t an emergent situation.
If she’s not concerned about her current state, then I shouldn’t be either.
I force my eyes to the screen in front of me. I’d planned to watch A Walk to Remember, but that was before Camila showed up. Now, I’ve got an awkward conversation to keep me entertained for the entire flight. I’ll let her get her bearings straight before I introduce myself as her husband.