33. Chapter 25
Chapter 25
Lucy
“ D on’t what-if yourself into the grave, Lucy. Stop the intrusive, spiraling thoughts as soon as you realize they’re happening.” Brandi pegs me with a stern look, repeating a phrase she’s said often in our sessions. Her face softens after seeing my expression of genuine fear over the scenarios I’ve expertly crafted inside the confines of my head. “I understand you are worried you’ll mess up again and sleep with him. I understand you’re scared that he will go cold on you and walk away one day because of your anxiety and battle with anxious attachment. But if you do sleep with him, does that mean you are condemned to hell and are no longer worthy of the love of Christ? If he does go cold and walks away, does that mean you’ll never smile again?”
“Yes,” I say immediately. Mostly as a joke, but I think there’s some truth to the singular word, which is what terrifies me the most. I huff out a breath and cross my arms, leaning back on her sofa in her living room. “That’s why I don’t think I’m ready to go back to him. When the plane landed back in Mississippi two days ago, all I wanted to do was run to him and hug him and start over with him. But instead I texted him and told him I was back and I wanted to wait one more week before talking. I’m obviously not ready to see him.”
Brandi doesn’t miss a beat. “Not ready to see him or not ready to put yourself out there again because you have dug yourself a ‘what if’ grave?”
Somewhere, deep down, I know she’s right. The fear is loud, though. The ghost of the pain and heartache lingers like an unwelcome house guest. What if he— “Ah, shoot. You’re right,” I cave, catching myself hopping and skipping down another trail that leads to desolation.
“So what do you think is the next appropriate course of action for you to take?”
I think over her question, chewing on my bottom lip and fiddling with the silver ring on my thumb. “I don’t know. I’m supposed to reach out in a few days, I guess. I’m still scared, though. It’s not like I don’t want to jump into his arms, smiling as he sets me on his bike and rides me off into the winter sunset. I want that more than anyone could know. But how do I know if it’s the lust talking, the attachment issues talking, or if I’m truly meant to be with him?”
Discovering I have anxious attachment issues was eye-opening. Combing through my childhood with Brandi, I discovered my parents didn’t give me the attention I needed. It wasn’t their fault; I had a twin sister, after all. When Lorelei showed signs of not wanting to be touched and held, that led to a lack of touching and holding on my end, but I needed it. It’s not my sister’s fault, either. It just is what it is. It’s the fallen world we live in. My parents loved me well. But when people started leaving my life (not intentionally, of course, and I keep reminding myself of that), the attachment issues really came out. It’s why I’ve cycled through men. It’s why I have developed a sex addiction.
I just want to be truly known and loved.
But now I know I am truly known and loved by the One who formed me. No earthly love could top that.
My therapist and friend leans forward, taking my hands in hers. Her green eyes hold mine as she smiles. “I’m not going to tell you what to do. Love him or leave him, that’s your decision. It’s between you, him, and the Lord solely. I’m here to support you. I’m here to give you practical and functional ways to help overcome the anxious attachment you’ve formed with him because no matter what you choose to do in regards to him, there’s no room for that in any relationship you may find yourself in—romantically or otherwise. I’m here to help you stay true to your morals and values because much of our self worth stems from our personal systems of belief.”
“So much for your help.” I jokingly roll my eyes.
“But,” Brandi begins, grabbing my attention again, “if no one has told you this before, allow me to be the first to. And if someone has, let me reiterate good, Biblical advice that would do you good to remember: Love does not start out as some mythical tether binding two souls to one another. The choice to love someone forms a tether. The choice to follow God and keep Him at the center of your love strengthens the tether. Love is emotional and physical, but it is also a choice that is actively demonstrated.”
I press my lips together, nodding thoughtfully as she releases my hands and leans back. Hadley told me something similar before regarding her and Braxton. Yes, they had chemistry out the wazoo, but Braxton kept choosing to love her. She had to choose to believe herself worthy of love in order to accept the love he had to offer.
Karoline had to choose to forgive Mason for an act that scarred her. It was her love that allowed her to forgive him.
Finley had to choose to constantly pursue my sister without any evidence that she would eventually say yes to him. A blind choice. A selfless choice. He loved her through her own journey of self-awareness.
Choice. Worthiness. Forgiveness. Self-awareness. Selflessness.
Love.
That’s what it is… a choice to see someone’s worthiness, assist them in their daily journey of self-awareness, give selflessly, and forgive when wronged.
Stone and I may not be perfect, but we are chosen by God, deemed worthy of love, forgiven of our wrong-doings, and constantly being made self-aware through a lifelong process of sanctification only given to us by God’s selfless sacrifice of Himself.
Chance after chance, we fall and mess up. But sometimes we get it right. And maybe, just maybe, we can get it right together.
T yping ‘the end’ has never felt so satisfying.
The merman and vampiric urban fantasies in my projects folder give me the bombastic side-eye as I sheepishly smile and remind them that I will complete them soon.
They don’t speak back, of course, because they are documents on a computer and I may be a little insane.
But what writer isn’t?
An idea resonated in my soul back in November, a thought to be more intentional and honest in my writing and on my social media. I’ve hinted at things to come to my readers, but today is the day I announce that I’ve put my urban fantasies on hold in favor of another romantic comedy. But this rom-com will be different. It’s my blood on a page. It’s my sins laid bare. It’s my head and heart split open for all to examine.
As they dissect the evidence I lay before them, will my readers resonate or will they hang me? Will they relate to the two very broken characters I’ve poured my experiences into, or will they deem me unworthy of calling myself a Christian? Will they understand that sometimes breakups are necessary and can actually bring two people towards a state of healing and reconciliation? Or will they burn the book because the happily ever after took a little too long to materialize?
Speaking of materializing my new book’s ending…
I really hope there’s something to this manifestation stuff.
Just kidding, folks. Don’t come at me with your pitchforks.
I close my laptop, pick up my phone from the armchair, and scroll through social media for a minute before posting the announcement that I have a new rom-com book coming out on the first day of spring. I mention it’s different from my previous works and has a darker undertone of sin represented, but I don’t say anything more. Not yet, at least.
After I hit post, I do the opposite of what the algorithm would suggest and close out social media. I check the time, which is almost five in the evening.
Stone should be home now.
Nervous energy swirls inside of me as I stand from my trusted brown recliner chair and head to the bathroom to freshen up. As I swipe mascara on my lashes, I send a silent plea that it won’t run down my face later. More like a prayer that there won’t be a reason for it to. I style my natural curls half up-half down, and just to look my cutest, I add a simple white ribbon to the back. Taking one last look in the full-length mirror, I compliment my simple torn boyfriend jeans and off the shoulder floral crop-top with a brave smile.
“You’ve got this, Lucy May.” I wink at myself for good measure then spritz my perfume on my neck, in my hair, and down my body. Once I’m back in my bedroom, I say three kind words to my new purple orchid Karoline bought for me during her last visit.
Thankfully, Frannie has yet to eat this one.
Feeling a little more confident with my dolled-up armor in place, I grab a water, my purse, smile at the now-thriving Bird of Paradise plant beside the door that Lorelei revived during her visit over Thanksgiving, and exit the apartment.
Once I’m in the car and heading down the road, I contemplate too long on whether to listen to the 1989 album by Taylor Swift, an audiobook, or a podcast, so I end up driving in silence, whispering small prayers as I turn down his short driveway .
I wish it were longer…
His massive black truck is in the driveway alongside his shiny black motorcycle, so he must be home unless he’s off with someone else. I eye the pink leather jacket and helmet in the back of my car, and then I say a prayer that I’ll get the chance to wear them again.
Taking a deep breath, I turn off my car and get out. I wore my sneakers today, so I don’t make a sound as I walk down the cobblestone path to his front door. I stare at the mahogany door, feeling like I may come unhinged at any moment the longer I wait. My hand is raised, and I’m ready to knock.
If only I can make myself move…
Closing my eyes and inhaling through my nose, I grumble to myself, “Just do it—”
“Lucy May.”
My name is spoken in a rough but feminine voice that belongs to myself, but the sound is mingled with a masculine voice. One full of shock.
I peek through one eye, seeing the most handsome man I’ve ever met standing in front of me in joggers and a t-shirt, his blond hair unkempt and blue eyes dazzling.
He laughs, and I realize I’m standing there with my fist raised and one eye opened. Not how I was planning for things to go…
Popping my other eye open and dropping my hand, my body begins to buzz as I bask in his bearing; he’s the confident man I’ve come to know, but now there’s a certain humility to him that didn’t exist before. The confidence is in the strong set of his shoulders that promises to protect and guard me. The humility is in the softness of his expression that vows to love me despite his struggle to feel worthy of it.
Or maybe Romance Writer Brain is still turned on from finishing that first draft earlier and I need to knock it off.
I also should say something…
“Hi.” I recall his first word to me after dancing at Lorelei’s wedding reception.
A flashing smile crosses his face. “Hi, Lucy May.”
My insides melt a little under his gaze, and I have to shake my head to clear the thoughts. I’m here for a reason, and it’s not to swoon over this man. “So, I’ve been thinking, and I’d like to see us start over. Try again. Have a second chance or whatever.” I shrug, trying to play it off casually because the fear of rejection is still as present as the stories I write in my mind.
His smile somehow widens, however, and it’s not his cocky one that denotes a snarky, flirty line. It’s genuine. And beautiful. And all for me.
“Yeah?” Stone questions, surprise in his voice. “I’m not dreaming, right? You’re really here?” He reaches out his hand, taking strands of my hair between his fingers. I grab his hand and weave our fingers together.
Stone kisses my hand. “I still don’t feel worthy of you, Lucy May. But I pledge to love you. Even when I’m afraid, I’ll love you.” He kisses my forehead. “Even when I stumble, I’ll love you.” He kisses my cheek. “Even when I don’t see my next step, I know it’ll always include loving you.”
Not able to stand it anymore, I blurt through my tears, “I love you so much.” And then I release his hand, snake mine behind his neck, and drag his lips to mine. This kiss is drenched in passion, but there’s something different in the way he lightly holds me, as if he may break me if he’s not careful. His lips move softly against mine, cherishing every second they dance together. He laughs against my lips, and we stand there smiling into each other’s souls.
“I didn’t know allowing myself to love you would feel so good,” he says, taking a step back. “I really should have surrendered to this sooner.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my cocky, playboy former boss?”
He cocks his head, shaggy blond hair falling to the side. His smile turns saucy as his voice lowers. “Oh, don’t worry, Little Lion. I’m still my charming self.” He runs his hand down the side of my cheek. “It’s just all for you, now and evermore.”
Stone drops his hand and clenches it into a fist. He rocks his jaw, his expression changing from flirty to full of desire. Stormy gray-blue eyes and all. “And maybe not until I put a ring on your finger. The temptation of you hasn’t changed.”
I gulp, a swarm of hot desire mixed with guilt swirling in my stomach. I look him over, wishing I could glue myself to him. “The temptation of you hasn’t changed either, Onyx.”
“We should set physical boundaries to help us if we’re going to start over,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Like not being here at my place—or yours—alone.”
I glance behind him at his open door and hurriedly nod, visions already filling my mind. But I will fight against them because Stone is worth more than my sexual desires. He’s worth my honest love. “Agreed. Or not being alone anywhere, really.” I can’t help the heat that rises to my face. I wish I was the woman who could remain tame in a vehicle alone with him out in the middle of nowhere, but that’s not me. And since I know I’m nothing more than a feral animal sometimes, it’s best to stay out of those scenarios.
Suddenly, Stone smiles. “How about a bike ride to Books and Beans for dinner? Do you happen to have your jacket and helmet? If not, we can take separate vehicles. Or if you’re comfortable with a short drive alone, we can ride together in my truck.”
His rambling is adorable, and pride swells within me. He’s going to meet me halfway in this. He’s going to take each step carefully like I am. The fear that something will go wrong and I’ll mess up again is still present, but it’s dimmed after this encounter with him. Something has changed in him, and I know I’ve changed.
And I can’t wait to explore our transformed sides together.
We can do it. With strong wills, boundaries, and the help of God… We can really start over and finish healing together.
“I just so happen to have my jacket and helmet, and I’d love to go on a ride with you to Books and Beans for dinner.”
He presses his lips together to hide his smile and tucks his head down shyly, rocking back on his heels. This shy side of him, the side that’s acknowledging his vulnerability, is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. It beats Flirty McFlirter Pants, hands down.
I turn and bound to my car and secure the goods, noticing my journal on the floorboard. I pick it up and turn to the latest entry, smiling as I recall writing it last night. Flipping through previous pages, my heart constricts at the evidence of my depression, my fight with God, and the heartbreak of a lifetime. Those are memories I should probably hold on to, but also, I don’t ever want to remember that place. I hated it there. My new book will be enough evidence of the fight.
I start to rip out the pages when Stone places his hands on my waist. “Whatcha doing?”
“Starting clean.” I spin in his arms, holding up the ripped pages that contain my darkest, depraved thoughts. I eye the bike over my shoulder and envision letting the pages set sail in the wind. How freeing… “Would you judge me too harshly if I littered? I promise these pages will decompose one day.”
Stone smiles crookedly and places a kiss on my forehead. “You do whatever you need to do.”
I slip into my jacket and put on my helmet as we walk to the motorcycle.
After he helps me on, he lifts my face shield and puts his face to mine, our helmets stopping our noses from touching. “Thank you for giving us a second chance. There’s something different about you.” I notice crinkles around his eyes, indicating he’s smiling as big as I am right now. “You’re like an orchid. Sensitive and picky, but when you’re in the right environment, you absolutely thrive. I’m excited to create an environment for you to bloom within. I love you, Lucy May.”
I could not possibly wipe the smile from my face if I tried. How did he know I now have a thing for orchids? God, thank you for speaking through this man. My man.
Stone chuckles and lowers my face shield, then in a very Stone-like move, he slaps the back of my helmet before hopping on the bike. I’m still laughing in disbelief at it all as he cranks the motorcycle. I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight, the torn papers clutched in my fist. Part of me clings in fear that he will walk away from me, but I know it’s the anxious attachment talking. The other part of me clings to him out of love, feeling prayerfully thankful that the Lord is providing the two of us another chance at choosing each other. This time for love, not for lust or out of loneliness or running from God.
Stone revs the bike, and then off we go. As the wind encloses around us, I feel it’s God wrapping us in His arms, looking after us and protecting us from ourselves. I open my fists, and I let go of the past once and for all.