Inside, when I realize that there is no receptionist or waiting room, I stop in my tracks. It’s a tiny vestibule, nothing more, and on the second door is a sign directing patients to knock when they arrive.
Before I can back out, I rap my knuckles against the solid wood door, and when it swings open a moment later, I try my damndest not to squeeze my eyes shut and run.
“Hi, come on in—” Cora’s words die, and her eyes widen in shock. “Savannah?”
Oh goody, she recognizes me. I’m not sure if that makes this easier or harder.
Knees wobbling, I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Yes, hi. I’m not sure this was a good idea.” I hitch a thumb over my shoulder. “I’ll just go.”
“No, wait,” she says, reaching for me but dropping her hand before making contact. “I’m meeting with a client, but if you give me your information, I can call you after.”
Heart in my throat, I wince. “I’m actually the client.”
She frowns. “You are?”
“Yeah, I made it under another name because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me. But I really wanted to talk to you.”
She studies me for a moment, her blue eyes full of curiosity. It’s odd, how familiar the look is. It’s like Camden is standing in front of me, studying me. The two of them share so many features. Same eyes, same cheekbones, same lips.
Hers turn up into a friendly smile after a heartbeat. “Come in. We can chat in here.”
On one side of the office is a tidy desk, but on the other side are two cozy-looking chairs with a small table between them.
“Take a seat,” she says. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water?”
I shake my head. “I’m okay, thank you.”
With a nod, she settles in the opposite chair and laces her fingers in her lap, her expression far more relaxed than I expected.
I was so eager to speak to her, but now that I’m here, my thoughts are jumbled, the things I need to say twisted with the words I’m trying to hold back.
More than anything I want to ask how Camden is. Does he really miss me? Has he gone out with anyone else? Will you ever be able to look at me and not think of my mother?
I twist my hands together, sweat breaking out at the back of my neck. “I want to apologize for”—my chest tightens painfully—“well, my existence, I guess. I never would have come to Camden’s party had I known who he was.”
Brows knitted, she tilts her head.
“It’s just—that’s something my mother would do. In fact, she considered trying something similar when she found out Camden lived here.” I suck in a shaky breath. “But I’d never do that. He talked to me first…I had no idea who he was. I swear it.”
Cora nods. “I believe you.”
“Okay, good.” I glance at the door, my heart thumping in my ears. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time. I just?—”
“Savannah, relax. I apparently don’t have a client,” she says with a smile. “So I have the hour to spare. There’s no rush.”
“I feel like an idiot,” I admit, the words rushing out of me. “You must hate me. First, because, well, I’m me and I totally caused your life to spiral.” I slap a hand over my mouth and shake my head. “Not that I think your life is bad or anything.”
“Savannah,” she laughs. Then, with a sincere smile, she adds, “Seriously, I’m not offended. You can truly say anything, and I won’t be upset. I learned a long time ago that I can’t control what other people think, so I try not to let it affect me. And in your case, I assure you, I don’t hate you.”
“But how could you not? It’s because of me that?—”
“No. It’s because of Jeremy and Tara. You did not cause them to doanything. In fact, Cam and I hold more responsibility than you do. We were there. We were involved with them. We should have seen whothey really were. We were close friends. Your mother was always selfish. I knew it back then.” She shrugs. “Even if the betrayal was a shock. We were teenagers. We all made bad decisions. You are not responsible for any of it.” She gives me a pointed look, the blue of her irises piercing. “And you are not a mistake. You were a child who was dealt a really shitty hand. I’m so sorry that they never got their crap together for you.”
Disbelief washes over me. “You do not owe me an apology.”
“Just like you don’t owe me one. But I’ll accept yours. And I hope you accept mine.”
She’s right. An innocent child is not to blame for the sins of her parents. Even so, I still feel guilty. I’m disgusted by what my parents did to her and Camden. And I’m not sure how to reconcile that with my other feelings for her brother.
