For the next hour, I listen to them prattle about the most dull topics in the world. I play with my hair and try not to yawn. Sam watches me in amusement as he contributes to their conversation. Twice, he catches me unawares by asking my opinion on politicians.
“Really, Sam,” I finally snap when no one is listening. “Can you not?”
He grins. “Just trying to be friendly.”
How does someone with so many tattoos know about politics? Am I stereotyping? Too bad. I lean close to his ear so only he can hear me. Cammie frowns.
He’s g*y! I want to scream at her. And, even if he weren’t, seriously, I don’t do sloppy men.
“I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you can get everyone out of here so I can talk to your slutty cousin alone.”
Sam stands up and claps his hands. “I’ll buy everyone a shot, except for Cammie.”
Cammie rolls her eyes but stays seated. Everyone else follows Sam to the bar, laughing and clapping each other on the back.
She looks at me expectantly, like she’s on to my scheme.
I swear this bitch and I speak the same language … in different accents.
“Olivia Kaspen,” I say. Her face registers nothing. “Do you know her?”
Her lips curl into a smile, and she dips her head once to acknowledge that she does. I feel searing heat start in my chest and spread outward. Emotional fireworks, if you must. I knew it! I lick my lips and pull a cigarette from my purse.
“That’s how you know Caleb,” I say. She nods that awful smile still on her lips. I inhale and watch her through my lashes.
“Why does he love her?” This was the first time I had ever verbalized the question, though I had pondered over it for God knows how many years. Olivia was attractive — if you were into sluts. She had too much hair and wide-spaced eyes, but I had been around her enough during my trial to know how men responded to her. She was aloof, cold. It was mysterious. Goddamn men and their goddamn mysteries. I had never seen her smile. Not once. It was hard to believe someone as alive and warm as Caleb could have feelings for an emotional prune.
Cammie is watching me, trying to decide how far she wants to go with her answer. I wonder how well she knows Olivia. It had never occurred to me, until now, that she might be good friends with her.
Eventually, she clears her throat. “Well, she’s a bitch like you. Caleb has always been attracted to the Cruella De Ville type. But, I suppose if you want an honest answer…” her voice trails off. The band comes on stage and things are starting to get loud. I lean forward, hungry for her answer.
“They spark,” she says. I jerk back. What the hell did that mean? “When they’re together, it’s like putting a hurricane and a tornado in the same room — you can feel the tension. I didn’t believe in the cliché of soul mates until I saw them together.”
I’ve heard enough. I am sick to my stomach. I look around for my ride and can’t see him anywhere, but Cammie’s not done.
“I know you got pregnant on purpose,” she says, plucking my cigarette from my fingers and taking a draw. I blink at her, too intrigued to argue. How could she possibly know?
“Now, you’ve got the guy … and the baby. You won. So, why are you asking about Olivia?”
I consider lying, telling her that I’m making sure she is gone for good or some bullshit like that.
She smirks. “You want to know why he loves her, Leah?” She overemphasizes the ah in my name. I flinch.
What a bitch.
I shake my head, but the little blond is smarter than she looks.
She stubs out my cigarette. “You won’t find an answer to that from anyone but Caleb. If I were you, I’d let it go. Go enjoy the life you stole for yourself. Olivia won’t be showing up at your doorstep crying, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I feel my face heat as I remember the time I followed Caleb to Olivia’s apartment. That was inside information. The little bitch is probably her best friend.
“He wouldn’t leave me for her even if she did.” I say this with more confidence than I feel.
Cammie raises her eyebrows and shrugs. “Then why do you care?”
I swallow hard. Why do I care? It isn’t like I grew up in a home where my parents were madly in love. My mother married my father for money, she’d told me so on numerous occasions. I have my guy, so why am I picking at the scab?
“I — I don’t know.”
“It’s not fun to play second choice, is it?” She plucks a piece of tobacco from her tongue and flicks it off her fingertip. “There is a possibility that you feel like you’re worth more than being Caleb’s marriage of pity, and if that’s true then you should jump ship now. It’s only a matter of time before the Caleb/Olivia saga starts up again.”
Her words sting. I shift around in my chair as pain courses through me. “I thought you said she moved on?” I hiss.
“Yeah, so?” Cammie shrugs. “Their story will never be over. She’s married, you know? So, technically you have some time to make your husband fall in love with you.”
I can’t hide my surprise. She hadn’t married Turner, that’s for sure. He’d blown up my phone after she broke things off with him, begging me to appeal to her on his behalf. Stupid Turner.
After the whole amnesia debacle, I broke into her apartment and found letters from Caleb, dated to his college days. It didn’t take long to figure out she was his ex-girlfriend, trying to pull a fast one on him. I blackmailed her into leaving town and then hired a private detective who tracked her to Texas. A friend was attending the same law school as Olivia was, so I made a call, traded some Super Bowl tickets, and BAM! Next thing I knew, they were engaged. The luck! Turner was a tool. How a woman could go from Caleb to that half-wit was beyond me. Either way, I thought she was out of my life for good until Caleb hired her to be my attorney — and a good thing he did, because she won the case and saved me from ten years in state prison.