“Sounds good.” She gestures inside her office. “Have a seat.”
I stare at the small leather couch that’s more of a loveseat than a couch. That’s one way to get couples to improve their marriage: provide a tiny seating option and force them to practically sit on top of each other during counseling.
Camila and I squish together.
Shoulder to shoulder.
Thigh to thigh.
Citrus and honey teasing my senses.
It’s going to be a long hour.
“So…” Abby sits across from us. “Tell me a little bit about yourselves and why you’re here.”
“Well”—Camila smiles big, like our marriage counselor is a jury to be won over—“I’m sure you’ve read the report from the judge. We’re here because nobody has any faith in the validity of our marriage.”
“Goodfaith,” I add with an equally charming smile. Just over here doing my part. Following her lead.
“That’s right.” Camila nods, liking my add on.
“Should people have faith in the validity of your marriage?” Abby asks.
“Absolutely!” Camila beams. “There are many different types of marriages. Who’s to say that one type is more of a marriage than another? Hess and I get along great. We communicate well. There’s zero fighting. That’s more than most people out there can say.”
“Have you moved in together like the judge suggested?”
“We have,” I answer.
“And how’s that going?”
Camila and I look at each other with wide grins before she answers. “So good.”
“Really?” Abby seems surprised. “Moving in with someone you barely know would be an adjustment for most adults.”
“Not us.” I shake my head. “We already have a little routine down.” A routine where we don’t speak to each other and live separate lives.
“And it’s not like we barely know each other,” Camila says. “We’ve been married five and a half years. We know each other well.”
Abby shifts in her seat, examining us. “Then tell me about each other. Camila, why don’t you start?”
“Hmm?” Camila’s voice is a full octave higher.
“You said that you and Hess know each other well, so tell me about your husband. What are his hobbies? Likes? Dislikes?”
My gaze shifts to Camila.This should be interesting.
“What do I say about Hess?” Her brown eyes scan my face as if she’s trying to come up with something. “For starters, he’s a cowboy. Don’t let his city-boy outfit fool you.” City-boy outfit? I’m literally wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and Nikes. “This man owns horses and knows how to use them. He likes his boys to be supported when he’s weightlifting.” My brows lift with amusement as I look at her. “He knows what to do if someone is hypoglycemic. He gets really bugged if an acquaintance doesn’t remember him.” I roll my eyes at that one. “And he likes waffles,” she says with finality as if she completed the assignment perfectly.
Abby nods a few times then glances at me. “And tell me about Camila.”
“She comes off as cynical.” It’s her turn to roll her eyes. “But I don’t think that’s who she really is. I just think that’s the divorce attorney in her talking, or the little girl inside her who watched her mom have a lot of bad experiences with men. She works hard, and I admire her drive to excel in her field. She has a deep consideration for those she cares about, especially her sister. She claims she doesn’t like dogs, but I have irrefutable evidence she does. And she doesnotlike waffles.”
“I see,” Abby says.
Satisfied smiles cover our mouths as we nod.
“Well, after hearing you two talk about each other, I’m convinced more than ever that this marriage is a fraud.”
