Chapter 9
The room was quiet except for the ticking clock.
I curled myself onto the far end of the couch, like I could fold myself away from this conversation. Like I could pretend that I wasn’t here because I had a fucking crush.
“He touched my wrist,” I said, already feeling ridiculous for saying it.
But Dr. Tilly said nothing — not yet. She didn’t need to.
“It wasn’t even an actual touch. Just a brush. Barely anything.” I exhaled hard, shaking my head to keep myself from laughing. “I’ve replayed it in my head like it meant something.”
“Did it?”
I let my head fall back against the cushion. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? I don’t know. It was a fake kiss, a throwaway touch, a man trying to get his ex off his back — but he came back to me. After all this time. After nothing.”
“And that made it feel real?”
“It made it feel possible.” I hated the way my voice cracked at the end. Like the hope had gotten too big to hide behind my ribs.
“And that scares you?”
I looked up at the ceiling, praying I could fight back the tears. “Terrifies me. Because I’ve done this before. With Joel. I built an entire fantasy out of scraps and then hated myself when it didn’t hold up.”
I turned my face, speaking into the cushion now. “What if I’m doing it again? What if I’m making him into something he’s not?”
Dr. Tilly gave me a moment before speaking. A god-awful forever, kind of moment. “Is it that you’re making him into something he’s not… or that you’re afraid to believe someone could be different?”
I blinked.
“I mean, what if he meant it?” my (stupid) therapist said softly. “What if he came to the store because he missed you?”
“But he didn’t say that.”
“No. But you didn’t ask, either.”
I sat up. My hands were shaking. “I don’t think I can handle wanting someone again.”
Dr. Tilly looked at me gently, smiled. “Maybe not, Juniper. But you already do.” She tapped her pen against her notepad. “Let’s go back to what you said before. About feeling like you're… spiraling.”
I dragged a hand down my face. “Right. That.”
“What’s the spiral about, specifically?”
“I don’t know.” I said it too fast. Sighed. “It’s just… he showed up, and suddenly I’m thirteen again. Completely insane. Fantasizing about things that never even remotely happened.”
Dr. Tilly raised an eyebrow. “Thirteen?”
I groaned. “Oh god. I didn’t mean to say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes it so much worse.”
Dr. Tilly just waited.
I threw my hands up. “Fine. You want full disclosure? I had a massive celebrity crush on him when I was a kid. Like the most embarrassing kind. Posters on the wall. Screen caps on my iPod. Watching that one stupid movie over and over just to pause when he looked a certain way.”
“What kind of celebrity?”
“It was major. Have you ever heard of ‘Battle of the Cosmos’? Girls my age lost their minds. I was obsessed. Fully deranged. Like I knew everything about him — who he was dating, what car he drove, how he took his coffee. It was pathetic.”
She nodded. “My dad was a fan.” Dr. Tilly’s mouth quirked. “And now?”
“Now?” I buried my face in my hands. “Now he’s real. In my store. Leaning on my counter. Messaging me. Being… nice. And familiar. And kind of devastating.”
“Have you told him any of this?”
“Are you insane?”
Dr. Tilly laughed. “Just curious.”
I peeked out from behind my hands. “I can’t even tell myself this without cringing. I had to emotionally blackmail myself into even saying it to you.”
“But it’s relevant.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “No shit.”
Dr. Tilly’s voice gentled. “It’s a very specific kind of vulnerability. When someone from your fantasy life walks into your real one. It can feel… unsteady.”
I nodded.
“And you’re coming off a marriage where your judgment — your trust — was deeply betrayed.”
My throat caught.
“So maybe the spiral isn’t just about him. Maybe it’s about who you were then, and who you are now. And whether you’re allowed to want anything at all, again. Especially now. Especially someone like him.”
Stupid Dr. Tilly.
She smiled kindly. “And especially something — someone — you used to dream about.”
I didn’t say anything. Just stared at the edge of her rug and tried to press my fingernails into the fabric of the couch. The words had gotten too close to something. Too real.
I waited a beat. Maybe two. Then, quieter than I meant to, I said, “I’m seeing him tomorrow.”
Dr. Tilly didn’t speak, but I could feel her gaze tilt toward me.
“Coffee,” I added, trying not to sound like I’d rehearsed the word. “He asked if I wanted to meet up.”
She gave me space to keep talking, didn’t rush me.
“I said yes before I could talk myself out of it,” I admitted. “And now it’s all I can think about. I don’t even know what I want from it. Closure, maybe. Or clarity. Or—”
I swallowed hard. “Or maybe I just want to be near him again.”
The silence that followed made my stomach flip. I hated how much I meant it.
“Do you think it’s a bad idea?” I asked.
“I think it matters why you’re saying yes,” she said carefully. “Not to me. To you.”
I pressed the heel of my palm to my forehead. “What if I’m saying yes because even after all these years… I’m just the same stupid girl with a crush on a celebrity?”
Dr. Tilly was quiet again. Then, with a gentle smile, “Can it be all of those things?”
“I don’t know.” My voice cracked. “I’m scared I’ll look at him and forget all the reasons I started healing in the first place.”
She softened. “Or maybe you’ll look at him and realize you’ve grown.”
I looked up, skeptical. “Is that what this is? Growth?”
Her smile was gentle and maddening. “It’s a start, Juniper. What’s his name?”
“So you can look him up and you can blackmail me?” I asked, trying to smile in her direction.
She didn’t fall for it. She never fell for it. Dr. Tilly didn’t answer, just waited in that disgustingly patient way that good therapists do.
“Ansel.”
“Perfect.” She smiled.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re so worried about him being the wrong guy, I thought he might be Joel.”
“Hey—”
“Hey nothing.” Her voice was a little sterner now. “Joel was a piece of shit — pardon my language. You don’t know that Ansel is. Everyone deserves a chance, Juniper. Besides, coffee never hurt anyone.”
“There was that one lady—”
“No. Don’t do that. Don’t minimize this. And call me when you’re through, if you need to.”