Page 70 of Score
“Hey, you.” A smile stretches my face because it feels like forever since I’ve seen Tessa. “Where you been?”
She shrugs, a smug look on her face. “Around.”
“Oh, she’s definitely beenaround,” Mel mutters, sending me a meaningful glance I’ll have to interpret later.
Tessa punches Mel’s shoulder playfully and leans closer to the camera. “Are you avoiding the question about your ex, gem?”
Why did I think it was a good idea to tell them I’d dated Monk? Alcohol doesn’t mix well with my meds, so I rarely drink, but the three of us were celebrating my Golden Globe win that night two years ago. My liquor-loosened tongue spilled the beans to my besties about my previous relationship with the now-famous Wright Bellamy.
“I’m not avoiding the question,” I say, pulling the shirt over my head. “College was years ago and we only dated a few months.”
“But you said it ended badly, right?” Mel probes.
Sigh. Damn champagne…
“Uh, it wasn’t a good break, no.” I avoid their curious eyes by turning to my closet and searching for shoes. “I didn’t realize I was in a manic episode, my first, and I made some… bad choices.”
“Does he know about your diagnosis?” Mel asks, her voice softening.
“She doesn’t have to tell anyone about it if she doesn’t want to,” Tessa says, a defensive note creeping into her words. “You don’t know how it feels to be judged for the lowest moments of your life when you’re not fully in control. It sucks.”
“I know.” Mel shoots me a chagrined look. “Sorry. I just wonder if it would have made a difference if he’d known.”
“Maybe.” I pause getting ready to consider them both onscreen. “But I’ve had more pressing matters than convincing my college sweetheart I wasn’t a cheating bitch. Like not jumping off a building during an episode. I’m fine as I am. I’m not putting myself or anyone else in that situation again.”
“So what?” Mel throws both hands up, her exasperation as clear as her compassion. “You spend the rest of your life alone?”
“I’m not alone.” I smile at them broadly. “I got you two heffas. I have the aunties. I read that something like ninety percent of marriages with a bipolar spouse end in divorce. With those odds, not sure I want to try it.”
“And she gets dickandpussy whenever she wants,” Tessa crows, her grin as wide as Texas.
“And do!” I cackle. “I’m not sure I want a relationship. I don’t have to know right now.”
“Kids?” Mel presses. “You want ’em someday?”
I try to ignore the little twinge in my chest. I used to want kids with the right partner, but I’ve heard too many horror stories from people in my support group. I’m not sure it’s worth the risk. I know there are people managing it well and being great parents, but growing up with the tumult of my dad and experiencing the trauma of his actions, I’m not sure I’ll ever try. I’d never forgive myself if I endangered a kid of mine while I was manic.
“Nah,” I finally reply, sifting through my jewelry box for gold hoop earrings. “I don’t think the kid thing is for me.”
“Well, I might have a whole litter of kids with one of the guys I’m seeing now,” Tessa pipes up.
“You should probably be able tonameone of the guys you’re seeing now,” Mel says, irritation snapping her brows together, “before you go in on a baby.”
“Whatever,” Tessa giggles. She keeps going in out and out of the frame, zipping around the apartment like she’s a wind-up toy.
“Girl, what is you doing?” I tease. “Sit down for two seconds.”
Tessa does come to a standstill for literally about two seconds before giving the camera a pointed look and skipping back off.
“I’m going for a run,” she says, but she’s wearing a sundress and sandals.
“Like that?” I ask, laughing at her ridiculousness.
Tessa glances down at her dress and high-heeled sandals with a wide grin. “I’m making a statement!”
She grabs her purse from the counter and dashes through their apartment door like the Road Runner.
“God, that girl.” I chuckle. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was off her meds.”
