Page 77 of The Upgrade

Shit, shit, shit.

“It was kind of a touchy subject with the family,” Camille says. “Mom originally promised that ring to Caitlynn, but Courtney’s older, so—” Shaking her head, she frowns. “I kept that part quiet, out of respect.”

Goddamn my big mouth. “I think Kit mentioned it.”

Please don’t ask when.

Please don’t ask when.

She doesn’t, thank God, and I’m saved from telling more lies.

Sara peppers her with questions about Miranda, while Camille circles back to Sara’s wedding plans. I sit here breathing through a thick, fuzzy film of guilt.

I’m lying to my friends. And now I’ll be lying to Kit. I can’t share a word of what Camille’s just told me. It’s not my story to share. But I’ll have to face him, knowing this big piece of news that could hurt him.

“I should go.” I nod to the shirtless waiter, since I’ve reached the bottom of my glass. He hustles over with a refill on a tray.

“What’s on tonight’s menu of services?” Camille asks.

“I’m not sure. Maybe another massage.”

“Ooooh, Massage Guy again?” Camille grins.

Sara smiles her agreement. “After today’s boat debacle, maybe that’s best.”

“Maybe.” They’re right, but not for the reasons they’re thinking. I need to see Kit. I should be there for him while he faces the news about Miranda. If I can help in some way?—

“Have fun!” Sara calls.

Camille waves at the screen. “Go sleep with lots of strange men.”

“Will do.” One last lie before I hang up the call.

I tell myself not to freak out. Camille will tell Kit about Miranda, and Kit will handle the news like a grownup. We’ll handle it together.

Wait.

When did I start thinking aswe?

But now that I am, I can’t stop. What if this is my real mission in coming here? Not just for sexual healing, though that’s been profound. Not even to help Kit, but for us to help heal one another?

My brain veers off in that direction, buzzing and frothing like an espresso machine.

A few months ago, Camille did a three-part podcast with an old friend from grad school. Dr. Brooke Braham has a huge following, and together they counseled a middle-aged couple.

“They were so cool together,” Camille told me afterward. “Really in sync, even in conflict. What’s wild is that they aren’t one of those long-married couples. They met in a support group with the ink barely dry on divorce papers from their first marriages. If I’d counseled them back then, I’d have advised them not to start dating.”

But the couplediddate, and eventually got married. Together, they navigated co-parenting and blended families. Shared dreams and new challenges.

“It was kinda beautiful,” Camille told me afterward. “Two people who found each other while still processing trauma. In a way, that rawness—the lessons they’d learned through adversity—made them more mindful of one another.”

I know she wasn’t talking about Kit and me. It’s a completely different scenario.

But I can’t help seeing some parallels now.

What if Kit and I could date in the real world?

What if our failed relationships taught us exactly the lessons we need to fit together while moving into new phases of life?

---