Lauren's POV
"I need to tell you something"
Three years.
I spent three years of my life in two relationships. Three years where I would kiss my husband good morning and my mistress goodnight.
God only knows that I never saw Camila as just a mistress but essentially that is what happened.
It's an irrevocable part of our past that we can't change.
Three years where I had two anniversary celebrations, two people to which I promised to be with forever. Two people I kissed everyday two people I made love to.
For three years.
Every time I left the doors of the apartment she knew that within minutes I'd be laying in a bed beside my husband.
I knew that it killed her
Just like I knew it killed him.
How hypocritical of me would it be to condemn her after one drunken kiss?
I look my girlfriend in the eyes and consider putting her out of her misery. She is unaware of the fact that Keana called me last night after she put Camila to bed.
She told me everything
She spilled everything about their conversation, about Camila over-drinking and even about the kiss.
Though to my surprise she didn't say it maliciously, or to show off that she got Camila to kiss her.
Keana emphasized that Camila stopped it from going further. She emphasized that she was drunk, and made it clear that she could tell Camila regretted it.
Though that doesn't take away the fact that I was furious about it.
How could she do that to me?
I thought about storming over there and giving her a piece of my mind. I thought about yelling at her and asking her why should hurt me like that.
And for a split second, I even considered leaving her.
After I got over the anger, I was sad. The overwhelming sadness took over for the rest of the evening. I spent the entire night seated on the floor in front of the couch crying and thinking of what I was going to say when she got here. I tried to move, but my body simply would not allow me to. I simply didn't have the energy to I felt almost paralyzed.
But when I saw her walk through the door, something else took over.
The part of me that only cares about her being okay, the part of me that feels the need to protect her and that event though I am hurting right now, I feel bad because I know she must be feeling guilty right now.
At least that's how I always felt when I was with my husband.
"What is it?" I ask, as I hold her hand and sit on the left side of the couch.
The right side is a good spot, it's my spot. I don't want it to be ruined by this conversation.
I see her eyes glance at the empty right side of the couch obviously taking notice of the change but she decided not to point it out.
I watched the panic settle in her eyes as they frantically wondered around the room landing everywhere but on me.
"I uh..." she started "I wanted someone to talk to about everything yesterday, after the conversation we had at dinner" she said.
