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Why are there only a handful of decent things to watch on here and I’ve seen them all?
That’s it. I know when to call it.
Hoisting myself off the couch, I walk over to the bookcase filled with DVDs and run my hand over the stack ofFriendsseason sets. Though I consider watching the season where Rachel is pregnant, that might be too close to real life for me, and I need a distraction. I grab season one and take it over to the entertainment center, quickly putting the first disc in the DVD player.
Once it’s playing, I make my way to the kitchen and open the refrigerator door. I immediately close it again. Too many choices. It overwhelms me. I took almost an hour to decide what I wanted for lunch and by then I was cranky and hangry.
Luckily, I worked from home today, so no one else had to witness my food rage.
Of course, when I didn’t come in to work this morning, Miles texted me, asking if I was okay. I assured him I was. I had a dentist appointment midmorning, and I didn’t feel like going to the office for a few hours then leaving and going back again. Plus working from home was a nice reprieve. Those three little dots appeared and disappeared multiple times before Miles finally said okay and reminded me to let him know if I needed anything. I sensed his desire to say something more—about how he would have driven me—but I’m grateful he didn’t. I also can’t shake the guilt I feel over him still trying to take care of me when I’m being such a closed-off bitch.
I’m allowed to work through things on my own,I remind myself.
Am I really working through anything, though?
I know the answer, but I don’t particularly want to admit to it. I plop down on a stool at the kitchen counter and pick up my phone. For probably the fiftieth time this week, I open my browser and go to the website of what I think is the best online therapy service. It gives off better vibes. Not that I’ve acted on them. I read through the basics and the FAQs again, then turn my phone screen off and set it down. Every time I think about pushing the happy little button that reads “let’s get started” I chicken out. Something holds me back.
I hold myself back.
It’s the same reason I couldn’t tell Dani or the girls about my pain. Why I’m pushing Miles away. Fear. Fear of what I will unearth. Fear I’ll find out I’m just like my mother and destined for the future she has. Fear of living in unrelenting pain I won’t be able to recover from. Fear of bringing everyone else down with me.
I’ll fly across the world to a country I’ve never been to. Bungee jump, leap out of a plane. I’d do it all, but the minute my heart and emotions get involved, I’m so paralyzed with fear I’m afraid I won’t be able to move again.
I pick up my phone again and flick the screen back on.
Tap the button. Fill out the form. Do the damn thing.
My thumb hovers over the button, but before I can click it, there’s a knock on the door.
That’s totally a sign, right?
I turn my screen off and set my phone back on the counter, then slide off the stool and walk over to the door.
When I swing it open, I’m surprised to find Aaron standing there, a bag from Marion’s in his hand.
“Hi,” I say, trying to seem happily surprised and not what-the-fuck-are-you-doing-here surprised. Mostly because I’m not. Aaron and I haven’t gotten to know each other all that well, but after what Rae said about their relationship during girls’ night, he’s been on my mind. I thought about reaching out, but again, I was a chickenshit. I guess the universe decided for me. “What are you doing here?”
He flashes a warm smile. “I thought you might need some comfort food.”
Something about the food, the random visit, and the look on his face makes me arch a brow. “Did Miles send you?”
He laughs a little and shrugs. “One possessive asshole doing a favor for another.”
I shake my head. “Neither of you are assholes.” I wave my hand. “Come on in.”
He follows me into the room, closing the door behind him and slipping off his shoes. I smile at that. The rule at Katie and Andy’s is that you take your shoes off in the entryway. They even have slippers you can wear around the house if you like. It’s something Miles wanted to do in our house as well, and it’s sweet that Aaron knows that.
“Every time I’m here, that view catches me,” he says, gazing out the wall of windows at the far side of the living room.
“Really? Even with your gorgeous country property?”
He walks over to the kitchen, setting the bag on the counter. “It’s different. Seeing the view of the town is nice. I’ve grown to love the quieter country life—mostly from living at the lake house at school—but that’s where I grew up.” He nods toward the window. “The amount of time I spent running around downtown with everyone. That’s what summer break was. We got to have an ’80s sort of childhood. As long as several of us were together and we stayed within a few blocks of home, we could be out until the streetlights came on. I loved that.”
“Sounds like a pretty great way to grow up.”
“What about you? Country, small town, or city?”
“Definitely no city. Fun to visit, not so fun to live in. Small town is nice, but I wouldn’t mind a house in the country one day.”
