Chapter Twenty

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She left. And it's the worst fucking thing I've ever felt in my life, seeing her walk away like that. But I reminded myself it's not close to what I made her feel, being lied to by someone she trust and love. It's my fucking fault, I should have seen it coming. I don't know what I was thinking in not telling her about my plan.

Hot, guilty tears spilled out my eyes; I was able to hold them in just long enough until she walks out the door. I wiped them away angrily, told myself I fucking deserve it.

"Serves you right Camila." I made my way back to chair and sat down.

I couldn't handle this emotional turmoil while I'm in here. I finished the rest of the articles I had to edit as fast as I could and I left as soon as possible. I avoided everyone and left a note on my desk telling them I wasn't feeling well.

I drove back to my apartment and collapsed on the couch when I got in. I should start packing my things for my early flight tomorrow but I can't bring myself to do it. "Jesus, fuck..."

My phone started ringing and I jumped a bit. I answered it without looking who it is. "Yeah."

"Mila, I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't know Lauren knew nothing about the interview."

"Luke, it's alright. It's not your fault."

"But... shit Mila, you should have seen her."

I swallowed hard. I have. "Luke, don't work yourself up I'm telling you it's not your fault."

"Where are you? You fine?"

"I'm home. I'm just not feeling well. I'll talk to you later."

"Alright."

I lay there for a really fucking long time, motionless, but inside I'm a fucking mess. I never felt such emotions so strong for a long time, like it's going to consume me whole, devour me from the inside out.

Last time I felt this paralyzing feeling was four years ago. I was in my history class in college and my professor received a note, said I was excused and someone had to talk to me. I was confused, clueless on what they had to say. Then there were police, told me Nathan's car crashed and he's dead. They could have taken their gun and shot me in the head and I wouldn't know the difference.

I stare at my phone and I thought about ringing Lauren but doubts of she'll answer. She seriously fucking hates me right now I guess. The longer I lay here alone, the longer I feel like picking my phone up to make a phone call. I made up my mind and reached for it, clearing my throat as I dial a number.

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I toss the phone aside and I made my way to my kitchen and took out the wine that's chilling in the fridge, grab a glass and went back to the couch.

I poured myself one, then another, and another. I was buzzed and tipsy and I've long been consumed the whole thing when the door bell breaks the silence of the apartment.

My heart started hammering against my chest, a little hope lights up in me that maybe it's Lauren. I go to the door, checked my reflection on the mirror on the halfway before I answer the door.

It wasn't Lauren. "Luke," I said weakly. "What are you doing here?"

Instead of answering me, Luke frowned at me and looks me up and down. "You've gone crazy now?"

"It's just a bit of wine," I said, a bit annoyed. "What is it Luke?"

"Man, I want to check if you're alright. I'm really fucking sorry."

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