“Ha!” Her mouth falls open. “Bedroom eyes?”
“Yeah, you do that a lot.” “
“As if.”
“As ifI didn’t notice you kept glancing down at my lips when we were by the sink that one time.”
“You were the one who looked like you wanted to kiss me. I was trapped between your body and the dishwasher.”
“I probably did want to kiss you. I doubt there’d be a man in my shoes whowouldn’twant to kiss you. But that doesn’t mean I should.”
“That doesn’t mean I’d let you. I’d rather not be your rebound girl—thanks, though.”
“Rebound girl?”
“Yeah, should we tell Abby about how you were in a serious relationship with another woman only two months ago?”
With the mention of our marriage counselor, we panic and turn to Abby, remembering she’s been listening to us bicker the entire time.
Crap, we said too much.
Like,waytoo much.
She’s going to tell the judge we suck at being married.
I’m surprised by Abby’s never-ending smile. “This is perfect.”
“How is us fighting perfect?” I ask.
“Because that’s what married couples do,” Camila says under her breath. “They fight.”
“No, it’s perfect because it’s real and raw. You’re going beyond surface level and communicating genuine emotions and concerns. Frustrations and other kinds of feelings are coming into play like a real married couple, and you’re both trying to communicate healthy boundaries that will work for you.”
Our eyes tiptoe back to each other then pull away again.
“Hess, it sounds like you’re saying you’re frustrated by how closed off and unavailable Camila is. It makes you feel like you can’t get to know her the way you want to.”
I nod, creeping my gaze to the woman next to me.
“And Camila, it sounds like you have some serious hesitations about telling your friends and family about the marriage.”
“Yes.” Her answer is quiet, as if saying it louder would feel too vulnerable.
“Why is that?”
My body fully turns to her, awaiting the answer.
Camila draws in a deep breath, sitting up a little more as she does. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Or you don’t want to say?” Abby presses.
“Probably a little of both.”
“Could you try?”
She clasps her hands in her lap, a sign of discomfort with this line of questioning. “It would be embarrassing to tell everyone in my life that I’m married when all I’ve ever done is reject the idea of marriage. It would seem hypocritical and completely out of character.”
I watch her, hating how hard this is for her but also proud that she’s opening up a little bit.
