Page 125 of The Good Girl Effect

“Good,” I reply.

We each take a moment to dry our tears and compose ourselves. Exhaustion rolls over me like a truck.

“If you give me a minute to take a shower, I’d like to take you out to lunch. Really get a chance to talk.”

She looks up with a smile. “I’d like that.”

As I get into the shower, I stand under the spray and think about Camille. She’s the first person I want to reach for. I want to tell her that I finally let go of everything I was holding on to. And it might not seem like much, but for me, it was huge. She would know that.

She’d be proud of me.

But I can’t call her or speak to her. Not yet.

I’m still so angry at her for lying to me, but I’m more mad at myself for rushing into things before I was ready and possibly ruining something good. At least now I can admit that I have work to do before I get back into a relationship.

When I get out of the shower, I throw on some clean clothes that I keep at Phoenix’s place in case of emergency—or times like these. I quickly get dressed and meet my sister and best friend in the living room.

They’re sitting on the couch together, watching television while Phoenix works on her laptop. I stop at the table behind the couch, spotting a familiar photo in a frame, so I pick it up and I’m immediately hit with a wave of nostalgia. It’s a group photo of all of us taken when we were still young, me in my twenties and them in their teens. Phoenix’s twin sister, Austin, is there too, with her boyfriend, Liam.

Our parents raised us together. They tried to make us a family. I wish I knew when it all fell apart.

My wife died. Austin and Liam went off on their own. My sister and I stopped speaking. It was like adulthood severed our relationships, and the family we built as kids burned to ashes.

Ronan wants us to get that back, and I realize it’s on me now. I wanted to leave Paris so badly to restore my family, but what aboutthisfamily? If I can bring back what we had, isn’t that worth staying for?

I can’t leave.

“Ready?” Elizabeth asks.

I set the picture down and nod.

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

My sister and I are sitting inside a cafe along rue des Trois-Frères. She’s sipping her cappuccino and picking at a croissant as I watch the people walking by in their coats and scarves. So far, our conversation has been short, although there is a lot to talk about.

For now, I’m just enjoying the fact that she’ll sit in comfortable silence with me. It’s more than I had a year ago.

“I spoke to her, you know.”

Her blunt admission catches me off guard. “Who? Camille?” I ask, sounding more desperate than I mean to.

“Yes.”

“And what did she say?” I ask.

“She said she wants you to grovel on your knees and win her back.”

I tilt my head and furrow my brows. “No, she didn’t.”

My sister laughs quietly to herself. “She didn’t. She said she wants what all of us want, Jack.”

“Which is…”

Then she turns and stares into my eyes. “For you to take care of yourself. To heal as much as you can. To come back to us.”

Of course. But she makes it sound so simple.

Picking up my coffee, I stare out at the street, focusing on nothing at all. I try to imagine myself healing. I picture Camille and Bea with a better version of me. A version they deserve.