Chapter 19 #2
“Wanna cookie?” Tanner offered, mumbling around the cookie he’d just shoved in his mouth. He held the package out for me, but I shook my head. He grabbed another one and ate half of it in one bite, then brushed a crumb off his sweatshirt.
I rolled my eyes at their antics, then set my phone down and tried to focus on the movie I’d found. There were lots of explosions, car chases, and gunfire, but it was sufficiently distracting and by the time it ended, I was ready to call it a night.
Tanner and Garrett decided to stay up to watch the sequel, and as I was sliding into bed a few minutes later, the faint smell of microwave popcorn filtered into the bedroom.
“Some things never change. Those boys are still bottomless pits,” I muttered, smiling into the darkness. It was good to have them here, even if I had spent a small fortune on groceries.
By the time they left Sunday afternoon, I’d proofread Garrett’s English paper for him and quizzed Tanner on the material for his Spanish test. I’d talked to them on Saturday and encouraged them to stop by to see their dad before they headed back to campus, so they made plans with Ryan to meet him for an early dinner at the Mexican restaurant we all loved.
I had dinner plans myself. Jen had checked on me Saturday and had invited me over for pizza at her house Sunday evening. Mark and Cody were going to see some new sci-fi movie that had just come out, so she said we would have the house to ourselves.
I didn’t even get a chance to take my coat off before she asked how our counseling session had gone.
“It was kind of a shitshow,” I told her, slipping off my coat and draping it over the arm of her couch.
I followed her into the kitchen, and we each grabbed two slices of the pizza that had been delivered just before I arrived.
She poured a glass of wine for each of us, and we sat down at the table to eat.
I told her everything, including Ryan’s confession that he had become aroused by the lap dance.
“Wow. What did you say to him?”
I shrugged. “Not much. Just that it was an important part to leave out of his original explanation. Then I ended the session a little early. I just needed a break.”
Jen covered her hand with mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “That’s understandable, hon. Now that you’ve had a couple of days to process it, how are you feeling about what he said?”
“About getting hard for the stripper?”
She nodded sympathetically.
I sighed and picked at the uneaten pizza crust on my plate. “I’ve been debating it in my mind all weekend, and I’m torn, honestly, because I feel like a complete hypocrite.”
“For God’s sake, why?”
“Because if I focus on the facts, rather than my emotions, it’s a complete double standard.
He didn’t want the lap dance – and I actually do believe him about that – and if the roles were reversed and a male stripper started rubbing himself all over an unwilling woman, I would raise all kinds of hell and probably nut-punch him.
I certainly wouldn’t blame the woman for it. ”
Jen murmured her agreement as I took another sip of wine.
“And I know that the body’s biological reaction to stimuli doesn’t necessarily indicate arousal or willingness, it just means that the body responded to the stimuli by sending blood to the area.”
“True. My nipples get hard enough to cut glass when I’m cold, but that doesn’t mean that Frosty the Snowman makes me horny.”
I choked on the last of my wine, and Jen laughed and pounded me on the back.
Once I could speak again, I said, “OK, so if I take the lap dance and his physical reaction to it out of the equation, then what’s left for me to be upset about is the fact that he broke his promise and went to a strip club.”
“That’s still a lot for you to forgive, hon.”
“Oh, it definitely is, but it seems…more manageable, if that makes sense.”
Jen nodded again, then offered to refill my wine glass.
“No, one glass is my limit since I need to head out in a bit,” I said ruefully.
“Do you have another session scheduled with the therapist?”
“Yes, on Tuesday afternoon. I haven’t decided if I want to talk to her on my own, or if I want to do a session with Ryan again.” I hesitated, then told her that he was doing his first grief session tomorrow afternoon.
“He asked if I’d sit in on it with him for support, and I said I would, but that was before we had such a rough appointment.”
“Are you still going to go?”
“Yeah, I think I am,” I said softly. “As hurt and as angry as I am, I don’t think I can make him go through that alone.”
She poured another glass for herself while I got a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and we wandered into the living room to relax while we finished talking.
We settled into opposite corners of the couch and turned slightly so we were facing each other, and Jen asked how long I planned to stay at the condo.
“Well, Mom and Dad will be back in five weeks, so I’ll definitely be out by then.”
“Do you think you and Ryan will have worked things out that soon?”
I thought about that for a moment, then shook my head. “I don’t know. We have a lot of work to do – he has a lot of work to do – before I even consider it.”
“And your folks still don’t know, right?”
“God, no,” I groaned, “and I hope I don’t have to tell them. I’ll worry about that when the time comes, I guess.”
The subject changed to the Godwin hotel project, and we chatted about work for a while before I left. As soon as I got back to the condo, I sent Ryan a text asking what time his appointment with Kim was tomorrow.
When he replied that it was at four o’clock, I told him I’d be there.
Ryan: I appreciate it, but you don’t have to. I know Friday was a lot to deal with.
Me: I’ll be there.
Ryan: Thank you.