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“Isn’t your whole career based on you wanting to preserve a way of life? What have you done to protect it? What wouldn’t you do?” she asks.
I cradle my forehead in my hands and try to process what she’s saying through a different filter.
“It’s amazing that he’s who you’ve fallen like this for. I always thought you’d need a man who would let you have your way. You’re so stubborn. But you’ve met your match in him. I’m glad he’s making you think. And I’m glad he’s strong. I think it’ll be good for you to not have to carry the whole world on your shoulders, TB,” she says.
She covers my hand with hers to silence me.
“It’s okay to be vulnerable,” she says quietly. “It’s okay to let him close enough to hurt you again. But you have to want him more than you want your pride, TB,” she says.
“My pride?” I bristle at her characterization. “It’s not pride. It’s self-preservation. I didn’t have anyone to stand between me and the bad guy. I have always stood in the breech myself. And I love him so much that if I let him, he could really ruin me.” My confession pours out of me and I feel breathless having said it.
“I know ... And I didn’t mean to dismiss that. You just can’t let fear lead you.”
“What if he doesn’t want me the same way? What if when he gets to see all of me, he finds me lacking?” I ask and reveal the real source of my anxiety.
“Ask him. Call him before you go.”
“And say what? Can you help understand how I keep ending up with men who want me in bed, but don’t think I’m fit to be on their arm in public?” I ask quietly. Tears of shame burn my eyes.
“First of all, he’s nothing like Nigel. He respects you and he’s crazy about you. It was so obvious when you were here even with all the madness that happened. And you should have seen him driving that truck, through all that water. He did that for you.” She fans herself. “It was so … If you weren’t my friend …” I give her a warning look and she winks.
“Shiiit. You need to spend some time in those Tinder streets and you’ll know how lucky you are,” she says.
“How’s Tinder?” I ask. “I’m sorry I’m talking about myself non-stop,” I apologize.
“You don’t need to apologize, there’s nothing to tell. I thought I met my soul mate, again. He showed up to our date in scrubs, told me he was a doctor and hadn’t had time to get home before our date.” She takes a long sip of her water.
“What kind of doctor?” I ask.
“The kind that also works the popcorn machine behind concession stand at Edward’s Theatre in Greenway Plaza,” she deadpans. I choke on the water in my throat. I cough and blow my nose and she just shrugs.
“It’s a jungle out there and you’re over here hanging out with Remington Wilde, Hayes Rivers, and complaining.”
“I’m not complaining,” I croak out when I’ve recovered from my fit of laughter.
“I just hope you won’t lump them together. Nigel and Hayes. They’re not the same,” she reiterates. Her expression is serious again.
“They’re not,” I admit. “I didn’t love Nigel. Without Hayes … I’m just going through my daily motions. But inside, I feel like I’m falling to pieces,” I confess.
“Oh, Confidence,” Cass sighs, her voice soft and sympathetic now.
“I don’t even know how it’s possible to feel like this after three months.” I put my face in my hands and groan. “And my family…”
“And I’m glad you’ve met someone who can help you so it doesn’t swallow you whole. You have so much on your plate. You do a lot for your mother,” she says. I frown at her.
“Of course I do. And I always will. It’s just me and her. S
he’s done so much for me. I owe her,” I remind her.
“But you also owe yourself,” she insists.
The waitress sails over, a huge tray on her shoulder and saves me from having to answer.
NAKED
HAYES
“Can I come in?” I force myself to ask Confidence when what I really want is to shove past her and ask her what the fuck she thinks she’s doing.
