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“Wow. It’s a good thing we’re not a couple because it’d be scary as fuck being in a relationship with you. You’d have me turned upside down and back again, convinced I’m the one who’s fucked up all the time.”
“It’s a talent, what can I say?” We stop at the bottom of the grand staircase. It’s a fork in the road, since Reed has to go upstairs to his bedroom to pack for Chicago, while I need to go to the end of a first-floor hallway to my guest room. “Look, I like Hannah,” Reed says. “She’s a sweetheart who’s perfect for you. All I’m saying is, whenever you talk to her again, keep in mind there’s only so much groveling and apologizing you should be doing here. She’s not picture-perfect here, either.”
“Okay, thank you for that amazing insight and pep talk. I’ll keep it in mind. But please, let that be the last relationship advice you ever give me, because you’re truly the last person I’d ever want to emulate in a romantic relationship. No offense.”
“None taken. I wouldn’t want to be you, either. If a woman didn’t want me anymore, then that would be it. There’d be no groveling or begging to get her back. I’d move the fuck on.”
Now, it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “That’s because you have abandonment issues, Reed. You flee when things get rough to avoid the other person fleeing first. Also, you’ve never even fallen in love, so you have no idea what you’d do in my shoes.”
Reed doesn’t look offended by my comment. In fact, he looks unfazed. With an audible shrug, he looks down at his watch. “Okay, meet me back here in five. We’ve got to move fast.”
“Roger.” As Reed silently ascends the staircase, I call up to him. “Rabbit. That’s what you’re supposed to say in reply whenever someone says roger. According to Kat, anyway.”
Reed doesn’t stop moving. “You’re annoying the fuck out of me, Peter,” he throws over his shoulder. “How ‘bout that for a reply?” And he’s gone. He’s rounded a corner at the top of the stairs.
“That works, too,” I murmur, before heading into the hallway toward my guest room. “Jeez, Mr. Rivers. Tell me how you really feel.”
40
HANNAH
“Henn knew about all kinds of stuff nobody I’ve ever dated has known about,” I say to my therapist, Bettina. “The birdhouse song. The hand-flex from Pride & Prejudice. And on and on.”
My therapist hands me a tissue. “He definitely seems particularly well-suited to you.”
“It’s more like he was made for me. And that’s what makes this so much harder, because I know for a fact I’ll never meet anyone like him again.”
“Do you think maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself here? Leaping to catastrophic outcomes, when there might be a few stopping points along the way?”
“Do you think that’s what I’m doing?”
“I do.”
“I’m just confused. I thought he was The One. My Mr. Darcy. The birdhouse for my soul’s little blue birdie nightlight.” I lean back in my comfy armchair. I’ve already cried all the tears, and now I’m just exhausted. I’ve been babbling everything going on with Henn for the past thirty minutes, sometimes with coded language, so as not to reveal too much about Henn’s online activities, and there’s nothing left to say. At this point, I need input. Advice. Help sorting out all these big feelings.
Bettina offers me another tissue and I use it to blow my nose like it’s a clown horn. “I have a question,” she says. “Are you now in doubt about Henn being the birdhouse for your soul’s little blue birdie nightlight, or are you now certain he’s not?”
“Oh, no, I’m not certain he’s not. In fact, I still mostly believe he is. I’m confused, though. In need of clarity. I can’t imagine anyone better for me. Henn isn’t one in a million—he’s one in a quadrillion. But I’m not sure if I can trust him after everything that’s happened. And if I can’t, then there’s no point in continuing the relationship.”
“Are you certain you can’t trust him again, or are you worried you can’t?”
I think about that. “I’m not certain of anything. I think I’m mostly worried it’d be stupid or naive to trust him again, and I don’t want to make the same mistakes I’ve made in the past.”
“What mistakes would that be?”
“You know, like with my father. When he told my sister and me lie after lie through the years, I always believed him or gave him another chance, until I finally realized in college my life, my self-confidence, my mental health—they were all better without him.”
Bettina nods sympathetically. My fraught relationship with my father is what brought me onto her couch in the first place, long before Maddy’s accident brought me back again.
“Is there anything else in your past you’re worried you’d be repeating with Henn, if you were to choose to trust him again?”
