Camilla's POV
After the dinner I'd taken my time to make, Rachel took over everything. She settled in like she'd been there the whole time, refilling glasses I hadn't offered, laughing at things I didn't catch, and drinking the wine I'd been looking forward to all evening. I watched her lift my glass, my actual glass, the one I'd poured for myself, take a sip, and set it back down without looking at me, and I pushed back from the table and walked out before I did something I couldn't explain to a judge.
I went to my room and stayed there.
I told myself it was temporary. That was the word I held onto while I changed into pajamas and sat on the edge of the bed listening to them downstairs — their voices low through the floor, Rachel's laugh carrying up once and cutting off clean. Vincent
