Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Oh, hi,” I say. “It’s Rachel. I wasn’t expecting you.”
She laughs softly. “Then why did you call? Or were you hoping to leave a voice message confessional rather than talking to me?”
I gulp. Totally busted. “I guess I’m not the only patient to do that?”
“You’re not even the only patient to do that this week,” she says, then clears her throat and adopts a thoroughly professional tone. “What can I help you with? I do have another session in a few minutes, but when I saw you calling, I thought it might be important.”
Is this important? It feels vitally important to me, but I’m not sure it’ll be important to her. Sounds pretty foolish to say I played pretend girlfriend with my best friend, but I fell for him for real, and now I’m kind of sad, but I’m mostly calling because I lied to you about it.
But I say it anyway, even if it’s embarrassing. “I wasn’t honest with you at our last session. With this whole five dates thing I’ve been doing with Carter. Yes, I told you we were doing girlfriend lessons, but we also started sleeping together and it’s amazing. But so are the girlfriend lessons. Each time we go on a date. He shows me how a man should treat a woman. And that probably sounds absolutely ridiculous, like we’ve been playing at being boyfriend and girlfriend. I guess in some ways we have, especially since I stupidly fell in love with him, and I didn’t want to tell you that because I was embarrassed.”
To her credit, she doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t scoff. She asks without agenda, “Why were you embarrassed?”
“Because I thought you’d say it wasn’t healthy. That it was the opposite of what I should be doing. That I should be having adult relationships.”
“It certainly sounds like you’re having adult relations,” she deadpans.
I laugh at her joke. “That’s true.”
“Why did you think I would say it was unhealthy? What about it feels unhealthy to you?”
That’s a good question. As I walk into the Los Angeles morning, the sun warming my shoulders, I ask myself that too, and I only find one good answer: “Because it wasn’t entirely real.”
But is that even the right answer anymore?
“Were you honest with each other?” Elena asks.
“Absolutely.”
“Did he treat you with respect?”
“All the time.” Even when he bit me, spanked me, and almost choked me.
“Were you truthful with each other?”
I hesitate. “I think so.”
“You’re not sure?”
“Well, I didn’t tell him I fell in love with him. I didn’t want to ruin the friendship.”
She hums thoughtfully. “Do you think your friendship is strong enough to withstand that piece of information?”
The hair on my arms stands on end.
That’s the right question. That’s the one I never asked myself. I just assumed the truth would ruin our friendship. But maybe we’re strong enough. “I don’t know,” I say, but my voice climbs up. With new hope.
“You’ve been friends for fifteen years. You tell me if it’s strong enough.”
I have chills. Good chills. Excited chills.
Maybe our friendship is strong enough. Maybe I haven’t been giving it the credit it deserves. Maybe I haven’t been giving myself the credit I deserve. Maybe I need to trust my own heart more. Maybe I need to go out on a limb.
I thank her and walk into my store feeling excited about this new possibility. But also feeling a lot of pressure to find a new manager soon.
Because I want to be in San Francisco, rather than here.
First, I conduct a job interview, then I help the employees, doing my best to stay in the moment. Around lunchtime, I send them out, and a few minutes later, someone I know far too well walks through the door.
My ex-husband.
I don’t think he notices me, even though I’m the only one in the store right now. He’s busy perusing necklaces, and it’s the strangest thing to see him. It’s…surreal. From behind the counter, I study his handsome face, his tailored suit, his shaven jaw, his expensive watch.
And I feel nothing.
I don’t feel shame.
I don’t feel anger.
I don’t even feel hurt anymore.
If I feel anything, it’s gratitude that I got out in the nick of time.
But I still don’t want that asshole in my store.
I clear my throat and since there aren’t any customers here this second either, I don’t mince words when I say, “What are you doing here?”
He looks up and smiles pleasantly. He doesn’t even act surprised. This is how he fooled me. His poker face.
But I’m over it and over him.
“Good to see you, Rachel. I was just buying a necklace,” he says, like I care.
Ha. As if I’d sell to him. I point to the door. “No, you’re not.”
He blinks. Now he’s surprised. Good. There’s more where that came from—the heart of Empowered Me. “Excuse me?” he asks.