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“You lied to me. You made me think this was all for my benefit when really you could have filed these the next day...” she trails off looking right past me, I can see her putting everything together and it feels as if I’ve swallowed a rock.

The words finally find me. “I didn't lie,” I say hesitantly.

“Don’t.” Her lips press firmly together and she shakes her head. “Don't use your lawyer bullshit on me.”

I stay where I am because I don't want her to bolt, but I’m dying to clear the distance between us, scoop her up, and beg her to forgive me. I need her to understand that I didn't do this to be malicious. That my feelings have changed.

“You manipulated me!” The strangled sob that comes outof her cuts my heart. “You spent weeks making me believe that you did everything formybenefit. For what? For your name on that stupid fucking door? This was always aboutyou!” Her voice cracks as she yells through her tears and the pressure in my chest becomes unbearable.

“Camila, please just listen to me for a minute.” I don’t recognize my own voice.

“I should have known. I mean, you said it yourself that day, I think your exact wordswere‘I might skirt the truth about some things.’”Tears fall to the floor as she shakes her head.

My feet move to step toward her, and by some miracle she lets me. Her worn-in sweater catches on my calloused hands as I gently hold her shoulders.

Her arms are crossed across her front as if trying to protect herself from me which causes a burning sensation in my chest. To think that only yesterday she felt safe enough to let me in. To tell me she loved me and now she’s here in front of me, shoulders hunched and hiding herself from me. She won’t look at me and I don’t blame her. Her voice is nothing more than a raspy whisper as she tries to hold back her tears. “Was any of it real?”

“Camila, yes. That part is true, I could have filed those papers that same day. Samantha found out and it was selfish, but it was in my best interest that I convinced you to play along. But I didn’t know you, and I didn’t think I could just come out and ask this of you, so yes, I made you believe it was for your benefit, and for that, Iamsorry. But I’m not sure I can even bring myself to regret it because had I filed those papers, none of this would have happened. But I swear to you, everything after that day at the pier has all been real. Everything I’ve said to you, everything we’ve shared has been real. I love you, Camila. None of that has changed.”

She finally looks up at me, her eyes completely broken and I hate myself for putting her through this.

She bites her lip and nods her head but I don’t know what that means. “Tell me something,” she says, wiping the tears from her face.

“Anything.”

“How can I trust you, again?” I can tell her until I’m blue in the face that I didn’t mean to hurt her, but how can I show her, how can I prove this to her? Before I have a chance to respond she steps out of my hands and grabs her bag from the table bringing it up to her shoulder. “I believe you, Miles. I believe that you love me. But that almost makes it worse. Knowing that you love me and you’re still able to lie to me.” She grabs one of her suitcases and heads towards the elevator. “I have to go, Taylor’s downstairs waiting for me.”

“Camila—” I reach for her.

“I just need some time, Miles.”

Her feet step into the elevator and I watch the doors close on this once-in-a-lifetime woman. I stand staring at the doors for another twenty minutes before I realize she isn’t coming back up. I sink into the bench at the dining room table, the table we spend every night at, and my chest hollows out as reality sinks in.

Camila

“Are you traveling or coming home?”The older lady next to me leans over smiling.

Annoyed, I pull my headphones out and give a polite smile. “Uh, both, kind of. Heading home to see my family, but I don’t live in Miami anymore.”

“Awe, that’s so nice. I have three children and nine grandchildren all spread out. They think it’s easier for me to travel to them since there’s just one of me, and so many of them.” She waves a hand of bright red nails around.

I feel like I’m dying inside. My heart is cracked. My anxiety knocked into me like a freight train. I feel like I could close my eyes and sleep for thirty-six hours straight. And it’s in these circumstances that I go right back to my people-pleasing ways. So, instead of telling this woman, ‘I’m glad you get to see your family but I’m really tired, I’m going to take a nap now.’I smile and say, “How nice that you get to see them. Are you heading to see them now, or heading home?”

“Oh, I’m a Miami girl for life. I moved here when I was just a girl, and I’ve been all over the world since, but I’ll always come home to Miami,” she says proudly. “Where did you move off to?”

“I live in San Francisco now,” I reply.

“Ahh! The Golden Gate City!” She beams. “Although not to be rude, I'm one of those people that calls it Fog City,” she says with a guilty face.

I fake a small laugh and nod along, “Yeah it can get pretty foggy, I understand.”

“So what do you do out there?” she asks. And I have to bite the inside of my cheek and force myself to breathe so I don’t cry all over her.What do I do out there?I moved in with a man I accidentally married, and then accidentally fell in love with. A man who bought me a studio space so I could live out my dream of owning my own art gallery—that I’ve spent every waking moment pouring my heart and soul into—and now I’ve just found out that he used me for his own benefit.

I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.

“I eat a lot of sourdough.” Thankfully she laughs and allows the conversation to move on.

I will never booka nonstop five-and-a-half-hour flight again for fear of getting stuck sitting next to someone who wants to talk.