Chapter 16 #3
“You’re not alone. Or, at least, you don’t have to be.
” She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, as Jayne often did.
“Your nervous system is wired for danger. I bet it’s hard to relax, right?
It makes you feel vulnerable? If you’re not in motion, walking quickly, working long hours—even over the weekends, setting big goals, punishing yourself when you don’t meet them… ”
Nope. Not me. That didn’t sound like me at all.
“… then you’d have to face yourself. You’d have to feel the discomfort of a body in fight-or-flight, always ready for the next breach of your safety.” Maisy smiled knowingly. “That used to be me too, before I met Jayne and Archer. You can heal, Nova. You deserve for things to be easy for once.”
There was no way in hell my eyes were burning right now. Hold it together, Nova.
She’d triggered a part of me that responded like a wounded, feral animal backed into a corner. I wanted to be angry, but instead, I was exhausted and raw.
Exhausted from the non-stop grind, the always looking over my shoulder and waiting for the other shoe to drop. I was tired of everything being so fucking hard all the time.
“Take the outfit and return it to him after. Win-win.” She winked. “Come on, we’re getting massages and then eating omakase in the dining room with a private chef.”
“No weird men?” I asked suspiciously.
She grabbed my hand. “No. Girls only.” She placed my backup option back on the rack with a smile and pulled me away from the clothing. “Someone will box up our choices for us and give them back on our way out.”
Interesting. I didn’t remember being given a choice.
When we entered the room with massage tables, there weren’t any pregnant sister wives, but there were three beautiful women—Jayne and two others I possibly recognized from the first soiree—along with the same number of masseuses.
“Girls’ night,” one of the women squealed, greeting Maisy with la bise.
“This is Nova,” Jayne said, greeting me with the same.
The other two girls introduced themselves before updating Maisy on what they referred to as The Pilates Incident.
My mind was too scattered to piece together their riveting tale of good versus evil in the West Village.
Jayne rubbed my shoulder. “Let it all go, angel,” she said, intuiting my feelings with terrifying precision. “You deserve this.”
When I finally nodded, she released me. All of them stripped down without prompting, placing clothing on nearby chairs, and I averted my eyes.
I cleared my throat and took a breath, slowly mirroring them after they’d already lain face-down on the massage tables.
I left my underwear on. The Circle might not believe in privacy, but I certainly still did.
I was grateful when my face hit the cushion, obscured from view. Because as I received my second professional massage of my entire life, I couldn’t stop the tears from finally falling. I watched them drop to the floor below as calming music covered up my small sniffles.
Gentle hands worked muscles that had been tense all my life, made worse from my no-doubt poor writing posture over the years. With each inch of release, it felt like I was being exposed for everything Maisy had accused me of. Wes and Hudson too.
The overworking, the stressing, the pushing, the hiding. Those were the traits that allowed me to escape. Without them, I didn’t know who I was.
“Success doesn’t come from working harder, ladies,” Jayne said softly over the gentle music, as if channeling wisdom through the power of massage. “It comes from working smarter. We are safe to be our softest, most feminine selves.”
“Amen,” one of the women echoed.
It was cringey, and yet, I couldn’t deny the allure. It wasn’t like I wanted my life to be hard. It just was. I still had it so much easier than most—I knew that. I should’ve been more grateful. I should’ve been better.
God, why the hell was I crying?
The massage therapist finished. I put my dress back on in a daze, my back to the rest of the room. I was embarrassed when Jayne saw my face—no doubt still red and puffy despite my tears having already dried.
Before I knew what was happening, Jayne was hugging me, Maisy too, and the other two girls—Agnes and Theodora—joined our huddle.
“You’re safe,” Jayne said. “Your emotions are safe with us. We’re your sisters now, Nova. You’re not in this alone.”
The other women murmured the same sentiments, sealing me in a circle of gentle affirmations.
Once we arrived to the dining area, alcohol was being poured, and my once-buried emotions had dissipated like dark clouds clearing to reveal the sun.
The massage, the group love fest, and the essential oil and reiki treatment left me with the floaty feeling I’d experienced when I’d been hypnotized.
So when the first piece of finely crafted sushi was placed on our plates by the chef, I found myself laughing with the others and relaxing into my seat.
At the burst of ginger and salmon in my mouth, a thousand times better than any ten dollar roll I’d had at cheap spots in Brooklyn, I nearly moaned.
Jayne smiled at me from across the table. I knew exactly what was happening, but I didn’t care. Maybe I wanted to enjoy this while it lasted.
Maybe things could be easy, just for one more week.