Does he still love me?

(Livia) I reached my room and closed the door behind me. I wanted a few minutes without anyone telling me what I should do. My phone was on the bed where I had left it earlier. There was another message waiting from Camille. Can we please talk? I stared at it before putting the phone down. Talking to Camille wasn't going to change what had happened. She was free somewhere while I was living with the consequences of her decision. I wasn't ready to hear another apology. A knock came before I could sit down. I expected Mrs. Harris or Nina, but Julian was standing outside. He had one hand in his pocket and looked annoyed. I didn't invite him inside. "What?" "The photographs are happening tomorrow." I stared at him. "I thought you refused." "My father reminded me of another condition attached to the trust." "Of course there is." Julian didn't appreciate my answer. "You'll be ready at ten." "I don't have anything suitable to wear." "Someone will bring you clothes." I folded my arms. "Your mother?" "Does it matter?" "Considering she looked at me like I had personally ruined her son's life, yes." Julian stepped closer to the doorway. "Don't cause problems with my mother." I couldn't believe he was warning me after the way she had spoken to me. "I didn't cause a problem with her." "You walked out while she was speaking." "Because she expected me to convince you to do something you didn't want to do." His eyes stayed on me. "Tomorrow, you smile for the cameras and do what the photographer tells you. Once it's finished, we can go back to staying away from each other." "That sounds perfect." He turned to leave. "Julian." He looked back. "Why does your family care so much about what people think of this marriage?" He seemed surprised by the question. "Prescott Holdings is a public company. Anything involving my family becomes news, especially when it could affect who controls the company." "So I'm part of the company image now?" "Unfortunately." He walked away. I closed the door harder than necessary. Being his wife apparently meant I had responsibilities whenever his family needed something. The rest of the time, I belonged in a storage room. I wondered whether Julian understood how ridiculous that was. My phone rang again. Camille's name appeared on the screen, and this time I answered. I needed to know why she kept calling. Maybe if I heard what she wanted, she would leave me alone. "What is it, Camille?" "I've been trying to reach you." "I noticed." She paused. "Are you angry with me?" I sat on the bed. "What do you think?" "I told you I didn't know our parents would make you marry him." "That doesn't change anything." "I know." I waited for her to continue. "Where are you?" "I'm staying with a friend." "Which friend?" "It doesn't matter." I looked toward the door. "Are you coming home?" "No." Her answer came quickly. "Why not?" "Because father will never forgive me." Her concern made no sense to me. "He'll forgive you." "You don't know that." "I know our parents." Camille became quiet. "How is Julian treating you?" I looked around the room. "Why do you care?" "Because I know him." "Then you already know how angry he is." She took a breath. "Has he asked about me?" There it was. I stared at the wall. "Is that why you're calling?" "No." "It sounds like it." "Livia, I still care about him." I stood. "You left him at the altar." "I panicked." "So you disappeared and let everyone else deal with it." "I wasn't ready to get married." I rubbed my forehead. "Neither was I." She didn't answer. I walked toward the window and looked outside. Part of the garden was visible from my room, along with the high fence surrounding the property. I wondered what Camille expected me to tell her. Julian had made his feelings clear from the moment he saw me. "He still loves you." Camille didn't respond immediately. "Did he say that?" "He didn't have to." I heard her breathing through the phone. "I should go." "Then go." She ended the call. I stared at the screen. Something about the conversation bothered me, especially the way she had asked whether Julian mentioned her. Camille had been desperate enough to disappear before marrying him. Now she wanted to know if he still loved her. Another knock came a few minutes later. Nina entered carrying several garment bags and two boxes. She placed them on the bed before giving me an apologetic look. I already knew who had sent them. "Mrs. Prescott sent these for tomorrow." I frowned. "Julian's mother?" Nina nodded. "She asked Mrs. Harris to make sure you try everything on." I opened the first garment bag. Inside was a cream dress that looked expensive enough to pay someone's rent for months. The second bag held another dress, and the boxes contained shoes and jewelry. Julian's mother had chosen everything. "Apparently I can't even choose my own clothes." Nina looked toward the door. "I probably shouldn't say anything." "You don't have to." She gave me a small smile. "I think the blue dress would look better." I looked inside the second bag again. "You do?" "Definitely." Her answer made me smile. "Then I'll wear the blue one." Nina's smile disappeared. "Mrs. Prescott specifically chose the cream dress." I should have expected that. "Then why send two?" "I don't know." I touched the blue dress. "I'll wear this one." Nina looked worried. "She might not like it." "She doesn't like me anyway." Nina couldn't argue with that. She helped me hang both dresses on hooks attached to the shelves before leaving. I sat on the bed and looked at them. Even something as simple as clothing had become another decision someone wanted to make for me. My phone lit up with a new message from Camille. Please don't tell Julian where I am. I read it twice. Camille hadn't told me where she was, so there was nothing I could tell him. The message still made me uneasy. It felt as though my sister was afraid of Julian finding her while also wanting proof that he still cared. I deleted the message and placed my phone beside me. Tomorrow, I would stand beside Julian and smile while strangers took photographs of a marriage neither of us wanted. His family would choose what the public saw. But I could still choose one thing for myself. I looked at the two dresses. I was wearing blue.