Fight or Flight

“I hate that sofa,” I agreed. “It looks pretty but I can’t eat cheese puffs on it.”

“Then it should go.”

I locked eyes with my very understanding friend. “I’ll stop wallowing.”

“Good. You can be as heartbroken as you want for as long as you want. There is no magic number of days or weeks or months, my darling. But wallowing makes you look and sound just awful.”

I cracked a smile at her bluntness. “I’ll jump in the shower.”

“And I’ ll …” She made a face at the kitchen. “Call my cleaner.”

“I can clean my own apartment,” I said as I made my way into my bedroom.

“Yes, but Stella said she needs you at the office. Hello, Anne-Marie? Yes. I have an emergency … right now … I’ll pay you double …”

I rolled my eyes as she talked on the phone presumably to her cleaner. But I did as she asked. I stripped and got in the shower.

And as soon as the water poured over me, I let go of my numbness and let the pain back in again. I muffled my sobs, squeezing my arms around my chest to try to stop the harsh racking of my body.

I missed him.

So much.

Knowing I’d never touch him again or feel him smile against my skin while he was kissing me all over.

Knowing I would never be able to turn to him again when I needed him the most, that he would never be a strong, supportive presence to help bear the weight of future burdens.

One day I’d have that again with someone, but it wouldn’t be the same. I couldn’t imagine anyone ever making me feel as safe as he did. And I’d lost him before I ever really had him.

I never knew anything could feel so unbearable.

Finally, the sobs slowed to tears and I wiped them away, still shaking but feeling calmer. And I promised myself that that would be my last meltdown.

I had to let him go.

I just … I had to.

Not wanting a serious relationship because of Vince isn’t healthy,” I said the following night.

I was doing my best to act like I was moving on by sharing a celebratory drink with my best friend. Harper’s cast had come off, much to her relief. Not only could she return to work in a full capacity, but she said the cast coming off was the last physical reminder of what had happened to her. She still had Vince’s trial to deal with, and it wouldn’t be for months, but for now she could move on.

We were in a down-to-earth dive bar on Pearl Street. I was wearing new skinny jeans and a Ralph Lauren tee I got on sale, and my hair was washed. Moreover, I was wearing strappy sandals, because some things didn’t change. I liked my heels.

Harper looked gorgeous as always, her bruises gone, and the dark marks from the cuts that had needed stitches covered up with makeup. However, having been informed that she planned on only having casual physical relationships from now on, I felt an uneasy sense of déjà vu.

“My therapist says it’s okay if that’s what I want.”

“Are you going to try to win every discussion with, ‘My therapist thinks it’s okay’? Because I may regret asking you to make an appointment with the shrink.”

Harper gave me her best dirty look, but her quivering lips gave away her amusement. “Now I am.”

I leaned across the tall round table where we sat on our high stools. “Seriously, learn from my mistakes. You’re not built for casual sex.”

“Right now I am. Look, I’m only twenty-six. I’m not saying that from here on out I just want to do casual. Who knows what the future holds? I am, however, saying that right now and for the foreseeable future there is no part of me that feels like handing over the kind of trust you need to give a guy to be in a real relationship with him.”

Since that all sounded reasonable and rational, I nodded at her in support.

“What about you?”

That made me scowl, as I didn’t particularly want to talk about moving on while I was still figuring out how to pretend to move on. “What about me?”

“You look better. You’ve even gained back a few of the pounds you lost with all that sex, and you look great.”

I flinched at the reminder I was no longer having sex with Caleb. Harper winced.

“I’m sorry. Sometimes my mouth opens before it engages with my brain.”

“It’s okay.” I glared at my drink. “He just ruined the entire act for me, but it’s fine.”

“You’ll find someone just as good.”

At my brittle silence, Harper leaned toward me. “Don’t answer if it pisses you off … but … was he seriously that good?”

I looked up at her with all the pain of my loss shining in my eyes. “He wasn’t good. We were phenomenal. It was like we were made for each other in that respect. It’ll never be like that with someone else. That’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Now can we change the subject?”

“Another beer?” Harper replied in answer.

I nodded and watched her hop gracefully off the stool to make her way through the busy room to the bar. Peeling at the label on my now empty beer bottle, I studied her as she edged her way through the crowd around the bar. Only a few months ago she would have bulldozed her way in, grinning at the people she was pissing off, her adorable dimpled smile giving her a free pass. She would lean across the bar and flirt until the bartender served her next.

She wasn’t doing that now. Although she was still blunt and straightforward, there was a tentativeness about her that wasn’t there before. I could only hope time would take care of it.

“Ava?”

Caleb?

My heart stopped.

I whipped my head around, only somewhat relieved the voice belonged to Jamie Scott and not his older brother. He stood just off to my side, a pint of beer in his hand, eyeing me uncertainly.

“How are you?”

“I’m okay,” I said, my voice stiff. “You?”

“Not bad.” He took a step toward me, his eyes moving across the room. “Is that Harper with you?”

Realizing he’d only seen Harper beat up, I nodded. “The one and only.”

He scrutinized her, but not in the way a guy usually scrutinizes a girl. There was definite curiosity, but I wasn’t sure it was sexual. Still, as he continued to stare at her, I felt the need to say, “She’s off-limits.”

Jamie swung his gaze back to me. “Caleb says she lives in our building. I haven’t seen her.”

“Jamie,” I warned.

He held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “It’s not like that. I just …” His attention returned to my friend. “She’s striking. Do you … do you think she’d let me paint her?”

“I don’t see how that’s any different.”

Jamie’s brows pulled together. “It’s completely different. I never sleep with my models. The art is too important.”

There was so much sincerity and passion in his tone that I decided to believe him. “I … You would have to ask her but …” If Harper was even slightly interested in being an artist’s model, it would mean I’d inadvertently be connected to Caleb again. It was bad enough I couldn’t visit my friend at her apartment … “Maybe not now.”

Seeming to understand, Jamie nodded and I sank down into my stool in relief.

Awkward silence fell between us and I kind of wished he’d just leave. “Are you here alone?” I hinted.

His gaze sharpened in sympathy. “Caleb’s here.”

My heart rate, which had increased already in Jamie’s presence, instantly took off like a rocket. I searched the bar.

When I found him, I wished I hadn’t. He was sitting in the corner with a bunch of people, including Jen from his office, who was pressed up beside him on a bench. Whatever she was saying, Caleb was nodding.

I felt sick.

I was going to be sick.

Jamie cursed. “It’s not what you think, Ava.”

But I was already off my stool. “Tell Harper I’m outside. Don’t tell your brother I’m here.” Before he could argue, I was weaving my way through the crowd, trying to leave inconspicuously.