Chapter Three
Three
“I just don’t understand.”
Jason paced back and forth in my apartment. I was too exhausted to try to get him to sit, so I just watched, sipping my tea. Jacket shed, shirtsleeves rolled up, face set with concentration, he seemed to be working himself up to a big lecture. I studied his rock-hard muscles and the lithe prowl he’d perfected to show off how good healthy can not only feel but look.
He’d always seemed to fit in my apartment, which I’d furnished with careful thought to feng shui and Marie Kondo. If I didn’t love something, I got rid of it. I rented a charming old Victorian in the eclectic town of Cold Spring, situated by the Hudson River. The place was filled with character—from the gorgeous wooden plank floors that creaked to the solid plastered walls painted in bold colors: purple, yellow, and robin’s-egg blue. The rooms were filled with pieces of antique furniture: a curio cabinet with various-size drawers, coffee tables with scrolled floral art etched on the top, ornate framed mirrors with beveled glass, handmade braided throw rugs. I’d found a deal on a canary yellow sectional with velvet tufted cushions and invested in fluffy modern pillows and blankets to cuddle up with. Jason called it a fun house since I hadn’t stuck with the modern, simplistic flair he preferred, but what he saw as chaos I viewed as story.
Large bay windows looked out to a wild garden with benches. I wasn’t a gardener or good with plants like Mom, but when I could squeeze out half an hour, I loved to sit outside under the trees and watch bees hop from bloom to bloom while I wrote my lists and plans in my leather-bound journal.
Cold Spring was filled with New York City transplants and well-off creative types and entrepreneurs. Main Street boasted numerous cafés and shops filled with antiques, art, and custom design fashion. Menus catered to vegans, and dogs were just as important customers as people. The local train station allowed an ease for commuters that rocketed rent and mortgage prices, so I was lucky to have grabbed the opportunity as my career and finances leveled up.
Jason lived a few towns over, in Beacon, so it was a quick drive, but his place looked like a converted warehouse, with high ceilings and plenty of space for his training equipment. He’d mentioned if we decided to move in together, we’d go to his place, but the thought of leaving my safe haven concerned me. I was excited about furthering our commitment, but I knew we weren’t ready yet, so it was easy to wave off and continue things as they were.
But the last few months I’d been a bit more demanding of Jason, and we were both beginning to see the frays in the solid fabric of our relationship. Tonight had not helped.
I didn’t know how to respond to his comment. My freak-out was already blowing up online. Most comments were sympathetic, but others were almost gleeful in their scorn. My career was being picked apart and analyzed because the fickle public adored a good freak-out. All of the press made me squirm with humiliation. I was supposed to be the one to lift others—I’d made it the crux of my career with life coaching, writing, and the podcast. Having the world suddenly question my stability, trading opinions about whether I was “pushing too hard, too fast” or “needing a self-care retreat,” made me burn with shame.
“What was going on in your head? I’ve never seen you have a public breakdown before. The sobs. The hives. Running out in the middle of a party you hosted. Do you need Benadryl for your allergies?”
My skin still itched, but once I’d gotten out of the restaurant and headed home, the giant bumps began to fade. I didn’t like the look of distaste on Jason’s face. I knew they were ugly, but he was being completely unsympathetic to my embarrassment. He’d been silent on the drive over, lost in his thoughts.
“I’m good now.”
Jason turned to study me. I felt like a new species of insect he desperately wanted to figure out. “Aurora, we need to speak frankly.”
A chill raced down my spine. I hugged my knees to my chest and tried not to shiver. Why did I just need him to crawl next to me and give me a hug? For tonight, couldn’t I cry on his chest while he soothed me? “What is it?”
“I feel like I’ve been patient and supportive. You’ve gone through a difficult time. Losing your mom would throw anyone off, so I gave you these months and tried to focus all my attention on your needs. Have I done that for you?”
I blinked. Did he really want me to answer? “Yeah.”
He nodded firmly. “Yes. But you’ve had enough time to steep in grief. I completely understand and support you! But it’s been six months, and you’re not doing any better.”
I tried to swallow but my throat wouldn’t work. “I’m trying,” I managed to squeak out.
“I know, babe. But your mom is gone,” he said gently. “She’s not coming back. Would she like seeing you screw up your future because you want to wallow in sadness?”
I jerked back. “No.”
“No,” he repeated. “It’s time to rise up, Aurora. You’ve done it before, after your dad died. You took that event and turned it into a successful career helping others. Now it’s time to do it again. Shed your story and create a new one—one full of power and action. Tonight was your opportunity and you gave in to your weaker self. And I can’t keep picking up the pieces, baby. I just can’t. I’ve already sacrificed months of progress on the gym opening to take care of you, but we need to move on. Do you agree?”
A low, boiling anger simmered in response to his words. Jason had never dealt with death or illness or catastrophe. His parents were still around and happily married. He had two siblings who were just as successful, and whenever someone tried to share their hard-luck story with him, he had no patience for it. I’d always found such strength of purpose admirable. But lately?
Not so much. Lately, I wondered if Jason couldn’t relate because he’d never faced true adversity.
I tried to squash the uncomfortable thought. Jason was the only one I had left and I couldn’t lose him. I managed to choke out one word. “Yes.”
“Yes!” he repeated. Why did I want to slap him for treating me like a wayward child? “I’ve been thinking about what’s best for you and I have a plan. You need to push past your block. Focus solely on action-oriented tasks—I’ll be happy to work with you and compose a chart. Didn’t you tell me that works for most of your clients?”
It had. I’d made a name for myself creating and trademarking my special task planner that helped focus on breaking up large action blocks into smaller tasks and linking it to the true motivation of the goal. For instance, losing weight or feeling more confident in your body seemed like an insurmountable task, but if it was broken into simple steps, such as drink one gallon of water , success was easier. I had them imagine their cells hydrated and happy, healing traveling into their bodies via white light, and what activities they could do with more stamina. Then I built the blocks until each segment led to the final goal.
But watching Jason throw my own tool at me made me really, really mad.
I buried my head down toward my tea and managed a nod.
“Good. We’ll build your plan together to help get you out of this mess. In the meantime, I think there’s only one way to guarantee you relearn to stand on your own and gain back your power.”
I dragged in a shaky breath. My spidey senses tingled with dread. “What?”
“We need to break up.”
I peered up at him, my insides raw and broken, and wondered if I’d misheard him. “Did you say you wanted to break up?”
“Of course not! I said we need to break up—it’s completely different. Hear me out, Aurora, and I’m sure you’ll agree. I’ve done a lot of thinking about it this past week but was hoping tonight you’d be better and I wouldn’t have to go to Plan B.”
“Plan B?” I echoed faintly, wondering if I had dropped into an alternate reality.
“Sure. Plan A was to coddle you and hope you get better on your own. Obviously, you need more help, so I created Plan B. I did some research and I think you’re struggling with feeling lost and abandoned. Perfectly understandable when it comes to losing parents, of course.”
Oh, this was going to be bad. My hands began to shake, so I carefully put the teacup on the table and tucked them under the blanket. This time, I couldn’t manage a word, but he didn’t seem to care, continuing blithely as he began to pace again.
“The problem is, you’ve turned to me in order to feel safe. At first, I was perfectly happy to play that role. I loved being your rock and didn’t mind putting my own needs aside. You’re special. I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while.” He paused his steps and turned to face me. “Aurora, I love you.”
A gurgle of astonishment bubbled from my lips. WTF? I’d been waiting for his big announcement, hoping we’d be vulnerable to each other and confess our emotions. I imagined candlelit dinners and moonlight or maybe even whispers in the dark, tangled in sheets, after lovemaking.
But…didn’t he say he was breaking up with me?
He must’ve registered my shocked expression and figured I was over-the-moon happy. “That’s right. I love you. But we moved into an unhealthy relationship, and that’s dangerous for both of us. The longer I satisfy your needs, the longer you’ll be hindered and choose to isolate yourself. The world needs you, babe. I need you. So it’s best if we take a break from each other while you figure this out.”
I continued to stare at him mutely, having no clue what he wanted me to do. Thank him? Bow my head and admit I was a screwed-up mess? Promise I’d do better to save our relationship? Tell him I loved him back?
He tilted his head and placed his hands on his hips. The shirt stretched across his broad muscles and squeezed his tight biceps. His brows lowered, gaze worriedly scanning me. I suddenly felt like a project to him rather than the woman he claimed to love.
“I don’t want this,” he said gently. “This hurts me as much as you, but I’m hoping you understand. If I step away, you’ll be forced to take action. I know you can do it. You can fix this mess and be stronger than ever. Think of the role model you’ll be! Going through grief, struggling with the fallout, and stepping to the other side. It’ll be a perfect segue to your book and podcast. You’ll be bigger than ever, babe. But for now, you need to be stripped of all your crutches.”
He stepped forward and knelt before me. His hands stroked back my hair like I was fragile, and though I despised myself, I only wanted to grip his palm and bring it to my cheek and beg him not to do this. Not now. Not when I needed him the most.
I had no one else. I’d pushed them all away in my hunt for…more.
“We’ll make our way back to each other,” Jason vowed. “And then we’ll be ready for the future—our future.”
He kissed me with a gentle touch like I was the finest, most delicate, most adored china, his lips skating over mine.
“I love you, Aurora. Now, go fix your life and come back to me.”
Then he left.