26. CHAPTER 26
Livia
Molly brings wine, Birdie brings chips, and Juno brings a long hug that I fall into when she walks into my apartment.
I had not planned on having all the girls over tonight. I had planned on going to bed and trying to sleep away the horrible day. The mistake I made was in calling Molly on the way home. I needed my bestie after Locke walked out of my office, effectively ending our personal relationship.
Molly mobilized forces and just an hour after I walked in and got into my pajamas with a pint of consolation ice cream, they invaded my space.
We’re now in my living room, glasses of wine in hand and three pairs of concerned eyes on me.
“You’re going to need to start from the beginning,” Birdie says, nodding toward Juno. “I tried to get deets from her, but she won’t say anything.”
“Sorry, my friend,” Juno says. “It’s only Livia’s story to tell.”
While I don’t ever intend to divulge Locke’s confidences, I don’t have a problem with opening up my own. I look to Birdie. “I fell into a relationship with Locke and well… it’s kind of over and my heart hurts.”
“I knew it,” Birdie exclaims, pointing a finger at me. “But tell me everything and then we’ll get to solving the problem.”
I look at the wine in my glass. The rain runs down the window in rivulets, but the apartment is warm and I am surrounded by friends.
“Okay… so it started when I was mandated to work with Locke for his disciplinary problems. To say he was reluctant was an understatement…”
I lay it all out for Birdie, start to finish, and give even more details that Molly and Juno don’t know.
The winery, the road trip, the first kiss at my parents’ house after Thanksgiving dinner.
The nightclub. His car and that first amazing orgasm, although I do tell that story with euphemisms. I tell them about the way things escalated by degrees and then came to a head in LA when Grant accosted me.
I tell them about the nights he’s stayed with me and sharing dreams about the future.
And lastly, I tell them about the last session yesterday. Not the details. Never a word about what happened to him, but only the results.
“And then he called it off,” I say with a morose sigh.
“Because you forced him to do that third session?” Birdie asks in confusion. “Because he agreed to that. It was part of the original bargain.”
“I don’t know. I mean… when we started the session, he said we were about to have our first fight. Apparently, it was our last fight too.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” Juno says thoughtfully. “I think it’s because he thinks you leveraged the personal relationship to get him to open up.”
It’s not an accusation, just an observation.
“But I didn’t,” I start to defend myself, then stop. “But… well, it was because we’d gotten close that let me push him a bit more.”
“It was because you were close that he opened up,” Molly says adamantly. “That session would have been unproductive had you not been intimate. But that’s not the real issue.”
We all stare at her and it’s Birdie who asks, “What’s the real issue?”
Molly’s eyes laser onto mine. “Do you love him?”
The question lands in the room and sits there.
I’ve been not looking at it directly for weeks, but I can’t ignore it now. These ladies won’t let me.
“Yes,” I say.
Nobody says anything.
“Well,” Birdie says. “That complicates the hell out of it.”
“Thank you, Birdie.”
“I’m not being flippant,” she says and grabs a chip bag from the table.
“I’m saying the reason it’s so bad is that it’s real.
If it were just a professional misstep, you’d have handled it by now.
You’re sitting here wrecked because you love him and you hurt him and those two facts are stacked on top of each other and they’re both true. ”
I look at her.
“She’s right,” Juno says quietly.
“I know she’s right,” I say.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table.
All four of us look at it.
The screen shows a text preview. I grab the phone, hoping it might be Locke wanting to talk, only to be hit with disappointment that it’s from Grant.
Livia, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I know LA was bad and I take responsibility for that. I just need you to hear me out. If you could just give me an hour I know we could work through this. I’m not the man you think I am right now.
“Ugh,” I screech in frustration and shove the phone down into the couch cushion.
“What?” Molly asks with concern.
“It’s Grant again. Same fucking messages. He doesn’t even have anything new to say, just the same thing over and over again, and he’s not getting the hint that I’m ignoring him.”
“That’s concerning,” she says.
“I know.” I pick up my wine.
“You need to do something about it,” Molly says. “Formally. Not ignore and hope.”
“Locke’s been pushing me to get a restraining order.”
“I’m a nurse, Livia. I see what happens when women ignore and hope.”
That hits me right in the fear center of my brain. “Do you really think Grant would try to hurt me?”
“I don’t know,” Molly says. “But why would you not treat it seriously?”
“I’ll deal with Grant,” I capitulate. “That’s a separate problem from the one currently eating me alive.”
“The one currently eating you alive is named Locke,” Birdie says. “What’s your plan?”
I blink in surprise. “I don’t have a plan. Why would I have a plan? He called it off. Said our fun times were over.”
Birdie looks at me. “You know what I’ve noticed about men like that? The ones with the walls up and refusal to look at things with good old-fashioned common sense?”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“The fortress has to become more uncomfortable than the risk.”
“That’s either very wise or very bleak,” Molly says.
“Both,” Birdie says. “Mostly both.”
Juno reaches over and taps my leg. “What do you actually want? Not what’s fixable or what’s professional or what makes sense. What do you want?”
I look at the rain on the window.
“I want him to choose me,” I say, letting out my greatest hope.
“Not because I pushed him into it or maneuvered him there or made the alternative uncomfortable enough that I was the easier option. I want him to look at what happened and what we are and decide on his own that it’s worth it.
” I glance around the room. “I want to be chosen.”
Nobody says anything.
Then Molly, who has known me my entire life says, “That might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said out loud.”
“Don’t make it weird,” I say.
She smiles. “Too late.”
Birdie raises her glass. “For what it’s worth—and I say this as someone who has no idea what she’s talking about and a demonstrably chaotic personal life—he’d be an idiot to walk away from you.”
“He might be an idiot,” I say.
“He might,” she agrees. “But you’re not going to know until you give him the room to prove otherwise.”
“That’s terrifying,” I say.
“Yep,” she says.
“I hate it.”
“Yep.”
We sit with the rain and the wine and the four of us in this warm apartment and I let myself bask in the comfort of women who care about me.