Page 103 of Lemon Pound Cake Club

But every time I look into Camille's eyes.

I hear the questions I keep trying to silence.

I thought he would be the man to make me happy. I really did.

Instead, I learned that happiness can have a shadow right next to it, pretending it belongs.

I saw things I wasn't meant to see.

Late nights. Quiet calls. A woman who knew too much about him to be a stranger.

And still I stayed. Still I hoped.

I even told myself I was being paranoid.

I wasn't.

There are cameras always recording everything.

Maybe I'm wrong.

I really hope I'm wrong, because something feels off.

Loving someone doesn't always stop them from destroying you.

I read the last sentence twice. A chill ran up my spine.

Chapter Seventeen

Maci

Neighbors showed up wearing black. Cars lined both sides of the street, and valets made sure no one drove into the cul-de-sac. Fresh flowers decorated Camille's porch, their scent blending with the smell of catered food inside.

To most people, it probably seemed like just another Lemon Grove gathering. But this time, almost no one was laughing.

Grief can silence even the busiest room. I adjusted the casserole dish in my hands and glanced at Zaire.

"You ready?"

"I really don’t want to go, but I have to support my lovely wife," he said, sounding sarcastic.

He took my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before we crossed the street together.

Inside, the house was packed.

The piano had been pushed against the wall to make room for more chairs. Photos of Camille's husband covered a long memorial table near the foyer, showing moments from their wedding and vacations.

It was hard to see a whole life, once filled with smiles, now summed up in just a few framed photos.

Camille stood by the fireplace, greeting each guest with a hug. She wore a plain black dress and barely any makeup.

When she noticed me, her face softened.

"Maci."

She hugged me, and it lasted longer than either of us expected.

"I'm so glad to see your face."