Chapter 13
Lucy
In the end, getting her things back to my apartment wasn’t too big of an ordeal. I offered to help her unpack, but she waved me off. So now I’m sitting on the couch, watching some superhero movie and eating a bowl of ice cream while I wait. And worry.
Did I push too hard? I chew my bottom lip in consternation. She was too quiet on the way back.
And that is the truth. Once she agreed to move in, she got quiet. Too quiet, in my opinion. She didn’t seem upset (right?), but she certainly withdrew into herself while packing at the hotel.
Maybe she just doesn’t like change, I try to rationalize. She will settle in and it will all be okay. She will be happy here.
And that’s really the problem, isn’t it? I am terrified that I pushed her into this and she will resent me. If she resents me…well, there’s no chance for anything more, is there?
As if my thoughts had summoned her, Aria appears in the doorway to the living room, looking exhausted.
I take in what I presume to be her comfort outfit: a college sweatshirt, sweatpants, a huge pair of fluffy socks that have floppy ears to make them look like puppies, and the blanket I had given her earlier today.
But what catches my attention most are her red-rimmed eyes.
She has had enough of my forceful attention today, so I give her the next best thing.
“There’s more ice cream in the freezer and a bowl on the counter for you.
” I give her a smile that is little more than a slight upturn of the edges of my lips.
She answers with a nod and a grateful smile.
I watch the rest of the tension leave her body as she patters over to the freezer and I refocus on my own ice cream while I hear her prepare her bowl.
I am pleased when she decides to come and join me on the couch.
We watch the movie in silence and eat our ice cream. The silence is thick, but not uncomfortable. Once the credits start to roll, I decide to speak up.
“Did the unpacking go alright?” I ask softly, and hold very still as she scoots towards me, leans her head against mine, and heaves a deep sigh.
“Yeah,” she answers back just as softly, lifting her head but making no other move to pull away, “the room is great. Just having to process a lot of emotions right now.” I make a noise of understanding and encouragement to continue, if she wants.
I feel the deep, shaky breath she takes and tentatively set my head on her shoulder.
“I told you I lost my job, which is true—” Her voice starts to waver.
“—but it’s not the whole story. Jacob set me up to look like I was doing unethical things with confidential information, which is why they fired me.
It doesn’t matter that I had a flawless ethics record, it doesn’t matter that I was an exceptional employee…
in the end, all he had to do was create the appearance of reasonable doubt and…
” Her breath hitches and I nuzzle my head further into the crook of her neck and shoulder, hoping to give her some measure of comfort.
“I guess I am just still…even though he did terrible things, I didn’t think he was capable of this.
” Her voice is thick with the emotions she is holding back.
“Five years. It’s a long time and I know I need to just move forward and focus on the future, but it still hurts.
” On the last word, her voice breaks and a sob finally escapes.
Immediately, she turns her head away, trying to contain the sobs that are threatening to not only break free but to break her.
I sit there, curled into her side, and let her cry.
It is heart-wrenching to feel this beautiful, strong woman break down over this, but I know she needs it.
I doubt she has let herself feel this grief and sadness so far.
When I feel her sobs start to slow and her walls begin to rebuild, I finally cut in, “You’re allowed to feel hurt.” I feel her stiffen, but she doesn’t move. “You are allowed to feel angry, sad, numb, or whatever else you’re feeling. This move was a new low that you had no reason to expect.”
“But, he—”
“No,” I cut her off. “Yes, he cheated. And yes, that is enough to show his true character, but that is at least something that is, for the lack of a better word, normal. That is something normal people do. Shitty people, but normal shitty. Not this psychopath-level bullshit. He fucked with your career. Your livelihood. That is not something normal people do. You are allowed to be caught off guard about this. In no way should you have expected this, or whatever else is going through that pretty head of yours. You are allowed to feel like this is another level of betrayal, because it fucking is.”
Somewhere in the midst of my impassioned speech, I have shifted up onto my knees and am now holding her face between my hands.
Her red-rimmed gray eyes are shocked, still full of pain, but her pupils are dilated and goddess, I want to kiss her too much right now.
I shift away slightly and drop my hands to her shoulders, breaking our eye contact at the same time.
I take a deep breath to calm myself before meeting her eyes again.
I am caught off guard by the heat in her eyes.
But I blink again and it’s gone. In its place is a steely determination and I nod at her in approval.
“You’re right,” she says, breathing deeply.
“You’re right, this isn’t normal and I do feel betrayed.
However, I am also sick and tired of crying over that man.
So, I am going to serve us both up some more ice cream and we are going to watch the next movie, yeah?
” Before I can do more than grin at her, she has scooped up both bowls and shoved the remote into my hand.
I do the only reasonable thing I can in this situation: I queue up the next movie and press play.
That’s my girl, I think proudly and snuggle into my blanket once more, ignoring the other voice in my head admonishing me, She’s not your girl.
Yet.