Tamara.
She stood there in her usual formal attire. She looked exactly how I remember her. Her hair was perfectly styled, her tailored feminine suit crisp and elegant, and she wore that same unshakable confidence like a crown.
But something had changed. The look on her face that was usually bright and ready to sweetly manipulate anyone, now it seemed gloomy.
"I..." she began, her voice already trembling. There was a wariness in her eyes, subtle but present. "I ran past Amy, and she told me I would find you here," she said, her gaze locked on me.
"Me?" I pointed to myself.
"...with my son," she added, her red-painted lips curling into a weak, quivering smile. "I'm here to apologize, Cassidy. To both of you."
Apologize... the word echoed in my head. I'd waited so long to hear that from her.
And even though she had tossed me aside after using me, deep down I knew—I always carried a forgiving heart.
Still, I had to remind myself: she wasn't the only one to blame. I let her use me.
She ste
