“Ask yourself the hard questions, and don’t be afraid of the answers,” Alex said. “Remember we are not our parents. Be open to every possibility. That’s my advice.”
“It’s good advice.” Nolan patted his hand. “And you know, Jaime, there’s no shame in talking to a therapist about this stuff. Not me, of course, but I can give you a name of someone I think would be good for you.”
“Thanks, I think that might be a good idea. And thanks for letting me crash here. I definitely drank too much.”
“Happens to everyone. Just don’t let it happen at the wedding,” Alex warned. “I’m not dragging your sorry ass home that night.”
I smiled. “You won’t have to.”
“And maybe find a different hairstylist.” Nolan wrinkled his nose and waved a hand at my head. “The whole emo thing isn’t really working for you.”
I threw a muffin at him. But I felt a little bit better.
In the next week, I did a lot of soul searching. I made an appointment with the therapist Nolan recommended, a woman named Jenna, who helped me sift through my feelings. We talked a lot that first session about my childhood and how my mom and dad’s marriage and parenting style had affected me. She felt that those things had had a bigger impact on me than I realized, and after talking about it, I agreed.
After hearing me talk for a solid hour, she wasn’t at all surprised to learn that I’d been reluctant to fall in love. She gave me some more things to think about, additional questions to ask myself, and I made an appointment for the following week.
I saw Margot and Claire that night, and they told me how proud they were.
“I think it’s wonderful you’re seeing a therapist,” Margot said. “I love mine.”
“You’re doing the right thing,” Claire agreed. “Have you come to any conclusions?”
I took a deep breath. “I miss him like crazy, and I love him.”
Claire shook her head. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“What about the things he wants?” Margot asked. I think she understood where he was coming from even better than I did. “Can you handle it?”
“I think I can,” I said. “I have no idea what kind of girlfriend I’ll be, but I can’t bear the thought of him with anyone else or being with anyone else myself, so if he wants a girlfriend, it’s gonna be me.”
They grinned. “When are you going to talk to him?” asked Claire.
“Soon. Maybe this weekend.” I made a face. “But I have to work up my nerve. Twice now I’ve told this man I love him, and it ended badly both times.”
“Third time’s the charm,” Margot said confidently.
I really hoped she was right.
The next day, I texted him. Hey, can we talk?
He didn’t answer for hours, and when he did, it was disappointing. In London for a shoot. Home on the 7th. Unless you want to talk on the phone.
The 7th…my heart sank. So you’ll miss the wedding?
Unfortunately, yes. Scheduling mixup. I talked to Alex about it.
OK. Get in touch when you’re back?
I will.
I set my phone next to me on the couch and stared at it, my bottom lip caught between my teeth. It was hard to believe I hadn’t wanted to go to the wedding with him when he’d first asked. Now I was devastated he’d miss it.
At least he wouldn’t have to suffer through my toast. I was still struggling to put it together, although something Alex had said the morning after his birthday had been buzzing around in my brain ever since.
There is no magic.
And I knew what he’d meant—I’d been saying the same thing for years.