Me:
Where are you today?
Her response is instant.
Beth:
At your place! Ended up having to come help the team with something and stayed.
Figures, she’s spending the day at my house on one of the few days I’m gone. Therapy has been good, and I’m glad I opted to connect with someone here who can continue sessions with me virtually once I’m back in Toronto.
This morning’s early appointment had me completely drained, though, and rather than coming back to town, I drove an hour to Port Mouton for a quick surf. Except, all I did was sit on my board and take in the scenery. It was worth it, though, and worked to get me out of the post-therapy funk after talking about my career for an hour.
Investment banking used to be all I wanted to do. All I wanted tobe, really. It was exciting and challenging, and I’m damn good at it.
Today, Gordon decided to try to figure out exactly when it became less exciting. He asked me when I realized the pressure was also a thrill, and then dug into how and when that thrill morphed into anxiety. We talked a lot about when the pressure began to cause more damage than good.
At first, I thought it might have been when Leo left, but I was still feeling great then.
I don’t know if there was a single moment that pushed me too far, to the edge of the cliff that caused the first panic attack. It just sort of… happened. And there I was, on the floor, not knowing what the hell was going on. Fine one minute, and then the next, not fine at all.
At least the waves helped me clear my head a little. And now I get to go home to see my favorite girl. But not before I make a couple of pit stops first…
Thirty minutes later, I’m home with a box full of sandwiches, cookies, and cold drinks. It’s an excuse for me to make sure Billie eats, but I couldn’t show up with food just for her, so there’s enough for everyone.
I press my index finger and thumb against my tongue and let out a loud whistle, getting the attention of the four people working on the guesthouse. “Lunch!” I yell. The response is a clatter of tools and cheers. Chuckling, I start setting everything on the outdoor dining table, and soon Amanda, Stephanie, Liam, and Billie are joining me.
Liam is fairly new to the team and a little shy, but I can tell he’s already a good fit. He works hard and seems eager to learn. “You brought usalllunch?” he asks, setting his lunch bag down on the floor.
“Well, yeah, but if you’d rather eat whatever you brought, go for it. I just got sandwiches.” I shrug, passing Billie a sandwich with extra mayo because she loves that shit.
“I have dry baby carrots with no dip and an untoasted bagel with plain cream cheese in there. This is amazing.” Liam smiles as he settles into a chair.
“Also, these arenotjust sandwiches, Darcy.” Stephanie picks one up, tossing the tightly wrapped BLT in the air and catching it. “These are Poppa’s sandwiches. And those are Mrs. Turnbull’s cookies. You made multiple stops for this lunch, big guy. We appreciate it.” Poppa’s and Shore Thing are quite literally down the street from one another, so it’s not like I went far, but it’s nice to be appreciated, nonetheless.
There’s a chorus of “thank you” around the table as everyone digs in.
“You got me extra bacon,” Billie says once she’s swallowed her first bite, loud enough for only me to hear. I’d be lying if I wasn’t at least a little pleased she’s sitting next to me. Her eyes go wide, and she looks down at the beautiful sandwich in her hands, made with the freshest of fresh ingredients, including bread that Poppa bakes every morning. “And mayo.” It’s barely a whisper, and she digs back in, taking a healthy bite and throwing her head back. When she looks back down, she sighs happily. “I love you so much.” That comes out loud enough for everyone to hear, and we all laugh at her sincere declaration to her lunch.
“She’ll be saying that to you next, Darcy.” Amanda laughs while my whole body stiffens.
“What? N-no, she won’t.” I chuckle, but it’s forced and comes out all squeaky. Not that I would mind Billie declaring her love to me, but she’s made it clear this is temporary and casual. I can’t fuck it up less than a week in.
“Oh, she will when she sees the Nanaimo bar with the cookies.” Amanda points to the now-open box, and my cheeks heat. Damn. I meant to take that out and save it for later.
“Aw, you remembered.” Billie nudges me playfully. “He totally took the last bar on a day Iverybadly needed one. This is a guilt Nanaimo bar.”
“What?” I screech. “Igave youthe bar.”
“Pfft. After you’d taken a huge bite out of it.” She rolls her eyes, then smiles at me, the little shit disturber that she is. And I fall a little harder.
“Yeah, you’re right.” I smile back, loving how silly she can be.
Amanda clears her throat. “Didn’t realize there was, uh, history there.”
“You know I have all kinds of history with food,” is Billie’s quick response. “So, Liam, did you end up getting all your stuff moved in okay?”
As Liam goes on about how he still has a few boxes left to unpack, Amanda watches Billie and me with narrowed eyes. I keep my mouth shut and avoid eye contact with her for the remainder of our lunch. She’s worked with Billie the longest, and she doesn’t miss a beat.
