Nothing Feels Better (Better Love 3)

Ivy and I exchange a glance. It’s 10 a.m. Looks like we’re turning this into a brunch party.

Roxanne and I have grown closer recently. She calls to chat. We’ll meet for coffee. She still hasn’t told me about her daughter Marie, but I have a feeling she passed away. Rox will tell me when she’s ready. Or maybe she won’t. Either way, I’m grateful for the friendship I’ve found with her.

Rox rounds into the kitchen with a bottle of wine in each hand, wearing bedazzled skinny jeans and an off the shoulder t-shirt with Def Leppard on it. She catches me eyeing the shirt and grins.

“You like it?” She glances down at her shirt as she sets the wine on the counter. “That bassist was talented with his hands but shit at giving head. Couldn’t believe I had to teach a rock star how to find the clitoris.”

I bark out a laugh just as Bailey starts coughing. Ivy pats her on the back awkwardly, and Bailey waves her hands in front of her face.

“Sorry,” she chokes out. “I inhaled some cheese.” She clears her throat and takes a sip of water, then turns to Roxanne. “The bassist for Def Leppard went down on you?”

Rox scoffs.

“Barely.”

She waits for me to finish laughing before she asks me where my wine glasses are. I wince.

“I only have one,” I tell her sheepishly. I used to have more. I just don’t know what happened to them.

“That’s fine,” Roxanne tells me. “Tastes the same out of coffee mugs.” I point to the cabinet that has the mugs, and she pulls one down for each of us. She pours rosè into each mug, then bluntly asks me about Patrick.

I sigh.

“He’s been charged with willfully discharging a firearm at a house, which is a felony, and he’s on leave from work.” Paid leave, I don’t add. “Christina thinks his lawyer will plead it down to a misdemeanor.”

“That’s gotta be good for your custody case, though, right?” Bailey asks, popping another cheese cube in her mouth. I shrug.

“Christina thinks so.” I take a sip from my mug, then stare at the pink liquid in it. “So far, he’s respected the restraining order. Not so much as a text. But his family has money. I’m not expecting him to go away easily.”

“You’re asking for full custody?”

I nod. “And supervised visits. If I could ask him to terminate his rights, I would.”

“Why can’t you?” Bailey asks, thinly-veiled anger in her tone. I don’t know her whole story, but I get the feeling she doesn’t have the best relationship with her parents. Moments like this, I’m sure of it. I take another sip of wine and leave the question unanswered. I was abandoned as a child by my birth parents. I don’t wish that for my kids.

“How’s the photography,” Ivy asks, changing the subject. I shrug at that, too, then give Roxanne a smile.

“You can actually have your camera back, Rox, since you’re here.”

“Why? You get your own?” She narrows her eyes at me when she asks, and I look away.

“No. Just too busy for it.”

“Well, I don’t want it. It’s yours now.” I start to protest, but she cuts me off. “When’s the last time you used it, Jocelyn?”

I don’t answer. I don’t want to say it. I haven’t touched the camera since Patrick accosted me with the blackmail pictures. I hate him for it. The irony of the whole thing. How he’s once again tarnished the hobby for me, and this time, he’s done so with pictures of his own.

“He’s taken enough from you, Joss,” Roxanne says sternly. “Don’t let him take this too. Not again.” I make eye contact with her, and the fierceness on her face has me sitting up straighter. “Quit letting him win.”

I don’t say anything at first. I just nod. Take a bite of cheese. Take another sip of rosè. We all sit in silence while I work out the tangle of thoughts in my head.

“I’ve made so many mistakes,” I whisper finally. “I worry I won’t be able to fix them all. How do you move forward from shit like this?”

I was just a kid when Patrick and I met. I didn’t know any better. I’m still paying for that.

“Your desire to grow and improve is admirable, but it can also be a terrible burden,” Ivy says softly. “You can’t keep applying that critical lens to your past—sometimes you just need to be proud of how far you’ve come.”

I’m weighing her words when Rox lets out a long whistle.

“Damn, girl,” she says, and Ivy laughs.

“I can’t take credit for that one. That’s all Dr. Joyner.”

“Who is Dr. Joyner?” I ask, and it’s Bailey who answers.

“Her therapist.”

“Hmm.” I glance at Ivy. “I’ve been thinking about getting the kids in to see a therapist. A counselor or something. Someone better equipped to help them process this whole mess.”

Ivy nods. “Christina can help. She’s got some great contacts.”

“I’ll ask her about it.”

“Perfect,” Roxanne interjects with a loud clap. “Now that that’s all squared away, who wants to play poker?”

It’s a good day. I enjoy the company of these women, and I can’t remember the last time I actually felt like I had real friends.

Today I do.

I pretend like my life isn’t a mess, like I’m not about to dive into a custody battle with my alcoholic and abusive ex, like I’m not completely and utterly heartbroken, and I allow myself the freedom to laugh and joke and relax with my new friends.

And thankfully, no one mentions the 6’4” elephant in the room.

I don’t think I could pretend I was okay if they did.