Chapter Thirty-seven
Abigail-Ann
“There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart.”
~ Jane Austen
T he night I met Joshua’s parents, I was seventeen and stupidly in love. I thought it mattered that he picked me up from classes every day, that he held my hand in the halls, that he called me ‘his girl’ like the title meant something.
But then I walked into their house.
His mother barely looked up from her phone before her eyes landed on my hair, her lips twisting in disapproval. “Red hair. So bright and untamed. It’s not dyed, is it?”
“It is dyed, ma’am,” I said, my voice small, shoulders shrinking under her stare .
Joshua had smiled nervously beside me, like he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or agree. His father was worse—his sharp glance slid down to the floral sundress I’d picked out because Joshua loved it.
“Girls these days don’t believe in modesty, do they?” he said.
My face burned as his mom chimed in, “It’s a bit much, isn’t it? Showing that much skin. Not exactly ladylike.”
I shot a glance at Joshua, hoping he’d say something. Hoping he’d defend me. But all he did was shrug. “I told her it might be too short.”
The room felt like it was spinning.
“She’s got potential, though,” his mom said, like I was some kind of project she could fix. “Maybe tone down the bold choices. The hair, the clothes. It’s a bit distracting.”
I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood. They didn’t know who I was. They didn’t want to know.
And neither did Joshua, apparently.
That night, I cried into my pillow while Joshua’s silence echoed louder than their words ever could.
I blinked away the memory, my eyes fixed on the neutral walls of Dr. Green’s office. The soft tick of a clock somewhere behind me, and the perfectly arranged couch I was perched on felt too perfect, too quiet.
“I don’t know why meeting Mikkel’s parents freaks me out,” I blurted. My hands twisted in my lap as I avoided Dr. Green’s gaze. “I’ve talked to them on the phone a few times, and they seem great.”
“But?” she asked gently, her pen poised over her notebook.
I let out a shaky breath. “I’m terrified.”
The words felt too loud in the quiet room.
Dr. Green didn’t rush me or fill the silence, which only made my chest tighten even more.
“It’s just…I’ve been here before,” I finally admitted. “Meeting the parents, hoping they’ll like me, only to feel like I’m not good enough. Like I’ll never be good enough. And what if…” I trail off, unable to finish the thought.
“Things go the way it did with Joshua?”
I flinched, even though I brought it up. “Yeah.”
“Abigail.” Dr. Green’s voice was gentle but firm. “You’ve shared a lot about your relationship with Joshua—how it shaped the way you see yourself and still influences your expectations. And we’ve also talked about Mikkel. From everything you’ve told me, he’s shown you, through his actions, that he’s different in many ways.”
I nodded because she was right. I knew she was right. Mikkel wasn’t Joshua. But sometimes, my past felt too heavy to shake.
“What if I’m just too much for them?” I whispered.
She leaned forward slightly, her eyes kind. “What if you aren’t?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “It feels like I’ve always been too much. Too loud, too bold, too me. I’m scared they’ll see it the same way… and that it’ll matter.”
Dr. Green tilted her head slightly. “Do you think Mikkel would let anyone else’s opinions about you dictate how he feels?”
“No,” I admitted, though the word came out hesitant. “But—”
“But you’ve been deeply hurt before, and that hurt is causing your anxiety and self-doubt to overshadow everything?”
I nodded, the lump in my throat too big to speak.
She sat her pen down. “The past has a way of whispering lies about the present. Meeting Mikkel’s parents will be a new experience, one that doesn’t have to look anything like your past. And if there’s anything you need, you know you’re not alone in facing it. You’ve got Mikkel now.”
Her words comforted me, even though fear still lingered beneath the surface.
We wrapped up the session with a grounding exercise—simple, practical, and exactly what I needed. She encouraged me to keep reading my self-help books and practicing grounding techniques whenever anxiety crept in. By the time I left her office, I felt a little lighter as I headed to work.
If nothing else, I was grateful for the store’s quiet. A few patrons browsed, soft music played, and there was no chaos. I busied myself at the circulation desk, scanning returns and restocking carts—routine work that let my thoughts slow down.
My phone rang midway through my shift, and when I saw Mikkel’s name, I glanced at my coworker, who gave me a knowing smile and waved me off.
“Hey, hermosa , 92 ” he greeted, his voice warm despite the bustle I could hear in the background. “The conference is dragging a bit, but I’m just checking in.”
“I’m okay,” I said, smiling. He’d been texting me throughout the day—little summaries of his meetings, random observations, and even a photo of the Hartford skyline from the venue. “How’s everything going?”
“Productive but boring. Wish I was with you, though.” His voice softened on the last part, and I felt a warmth bloom in my chest.
“I wish I was with you too.”
He sighed. “I have to oversee a pitch in five minutes. I’ll call again later, okay?”
“Okay.”
The call brought me peace. While restocking, I spotted a romance novel Azzy mentioned, grabbed the series, and bought them with my discount before my shift ended.
Me: I hope your pitch went well.
Me: Always proud of you, handsome *yellow heart*
“Abi!” Azzy greeted me with her usual warmth when she opened the door, her hand resting protectively on her small bump.
“Hey,” I grinned as I held up the books. “I brought you something.”
Her eyes lit up as she took them from me. “You are my soulmate. Thank you. ”
“You’re welcome.” I nudged her playfully. “How’s the wedding planning going?”
She groaned dramatically, letting her head fall back against the cushions. “Exciting but stressful. Dillon’s been helping too, but there’s just so much to do.”
I chuckled. “You’re doing great, Azzy. Everything will work out.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes softened as she looked at me. “I always thought I’d be doing this with my mom by my side. It’s just… hard without her, sometimes.”
“I can’t imagine how much you miss her, but what I do know is that she’s watching over you every step of the way.”
Azzy nodded, blinking back tears. “I just miss her, that’s all. Anyway…”
“How are you and Dillon handling the pregnancy?” I asked, changing the subject gently.
She chuckled. “Dillon’s at a whole different level of excitement and protectiveness. He’s been unstoppable. He upgraded our mattress and pillows to ones he found to be better for pregnant women and won’t let me lift a finger, which I’m perfectly fine with.”
“I’m glad you have him. I’ve never seen you happier.”
She nodded, her eyes soft. “I’ve never seen me happier either, but enough about me. How are you? How’s everything with Mikkel?”
“It’s good,” I said quickly, then sighed. “I’m nervous about meeting his parents. You know how that went the last time.”
Azzy frowned, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “It’s understandable to feel this way, because no matter what happens, the past will resurface. I know you’re in your head, thinking you’re a bad person for letting this affect you, even though you’ve moved on. But no matter how much time has passed, certain events will trigger emotions and thoughts, pulling you back to that moment, even if just for a second. Just take it one step at a time. You’ll get through this, and if you need me, I’m here.”
I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “You really do know me so well.”
Azzy smiled, then moved to pull me into a tight hug. “Almost two decades of friendship, Abi. We’re basically married. ”
I was truly blessed to have a best friend like her. Even if we didn’t talk every day or got caught up in our own lives, we were always there for each other when it mattered most, and our bond never changed.
We talked a bit longer, but I could feel my anxiety starting to creep up again. “I’m gonna head out,” I said with a sigh. “I’m really tired.”
Her face softened, and she wrapped me in a tight hug. “Take care, Abi. You know I’m always here for you.”
“Thanks, Azzy,” I whispered, returning the hug. “I’m here for you, too.”
With a final wave, I headed home. A quick shower did little to wash away the lingering unease, so I grabbed The Gifts of Imperfection and my peach weighted blanket before settling into bed. As I flipped through the pages, I marveled at the notes Mikkel had left in the margins.
It still amazed me how far he’d gone to support my mental health—twenty weighted blankets, a mood-switch octopus, and fully annotated self-help books.
I skimmed a page where he had written: You’re enough just as you are. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.
Another note read: You are not a failure because you struggle. You are a success because you keep going.
My phone buzzed with a FaceTime call from Mikkel.
Perfect timing.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soothing. “Someone’s coming in the next hour to bring dinner for you.”
I just realized I hadn’t eaten all day. “Thank you for always thinking of me.”
“You never have to thank me for that,” he replied, adjusting his glasses. “What’s wrong?”
“Hm?”
“You’re wrapped in your weighted blanket which means you’re anxious,” he pointed out. “What’s wrong, amor ? Was it something that happened in therapy?”
I sighed. “I feel like I’m suffocating. ”
“We’ll work through this together,” he said gently. “Put your feet flat on the floor and take a deep breath with me.” I did as he suggested, closing my eyes and breathing in time with him.
“Good, keep going,” he encouraged as we continued for about seven minutes, but the feeling never left, if anything, it got worse.
I let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know, Mikkel. I just… feel off.”
He listened patiently, his tone calm. “That’s okay. It’s okay to feel off because you’re human. It also doesn’t make you any less of a person. What’s going through your mind, Red?”
I hesitated, not wanting to burden him. “Just the usual stuff. Old habits, old fears.”
“I understand,” he said softly. “But remember, we’re breaking those old patterns together. You’re not and you never were defined by them, baby.”
I took a deep breath, feeling his words settle over me.
“I’m right here with you, helping you through it, Red.”
My eyes burned with unshed tears. “Thank you for always being here.”
“ Siempre , 93 ” he replied, his voice reassuring. “I’m here to remind you that you’re enough, that you’re not defined by your past, and you’re stronger than you think.”
“I was reading the book you gave me…” I trailed off, unsure of what I wanted to say or where I was going with it. All I knew was that having him here—making his presence known despite being hours away—meant everything to me.
“Which one of them?”
“ The Gifts of Imperfection.”
“There’s a section about embracing imperfections and accepting who you are instead of striving for perfection. It’s fitting.” His voice softened. “You’re perfect as you are, flaws and all, Red.”
His assistant’s voice broke in from the background. “Mr. Suarez, they’ re starti-”
Mikkel looked around, then said, “I’m busy. All the mingling has to wait until I’m done. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” I heard Morison say before I heard the door shut.
“Mikkel—” I started.
“No,” he interrupted. “You need me. I’m hours away, and if I have to miss a few minutes of the conference to make sure you feel even one percent better, then so be it. You always come first.”
We stayed on the phone for a while longer, Mikkel helping me through the unease by talking about the book, doing more grounding techniques, and reassuring me that it’s okay not to have everything figured out.
“Text me or call me if you need anything at all,” he insisted.
I smiled, feeling grateful. “Thank you for tonight.”
“Everything for you, amor ,” he replied softly. “ Always .”
Switching the phone off, I settled in to watch Say Anything until dinner came, which was Chinese, and sleep called to me before it took over.