Page 140 of Heartsick & Lipsticks
“That you don’t think it’s sustainable because of how you met, the trauma bond thing, blah, blah, blah.”
She knew that I had. I’d told her that I had. I wasn’t sure why she’d asked that. “Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“You heard him; he says his feelings won’t change and that he’s loved me from the first time he saw me.”
“So you don’t trust him?”
“What? No, of course I trust him.”
“Obviously not. You voiced your concerns; he told you that wasn’t the case; he confessed his undying love to you; and you don’t believe him.”
“It’s not that I don’t believe him. It’s just the circumstan—"
Her hands balled into fists. “So help me, Skye, if you say the word trauma bond or circumstances we met under one more time!”
“What? You’re gonna punch me?” I asked, knowing that she never would.
“Nope. I’m going to toss your new throw pillows out the window.”
“You wouldn’t.” I loved those pillows.
“Try me.” Her eyes narrowed.
I sighed.
She shifted so she was seated on the coffee table directly in front of me and clapped her hands in front of her. “News flash: people meet and fall in love in a million different ways. The most common way is through work. You work as a hospice nurse. So, surprise, surprise, that’s how you met.
“I know you think things are always black and white, and there are all these rules you need to follow to color between the lines. But I hate to break it to you, the world is all sorts of gray; some would say fifty shades of gray.” She wiggled her brows before sighing. “Look, love is messy, but it’s still love. Youlovehim, and helovesyou. Who are you to say that’s not real? Did you get a degree in psychology that I don’t know about? Are you a psychic? Do you have a crystal ball that tells you what’s going to happen?”
I started to defend myself, but then realized I couldn’t. She was right. Who was I to say what was real and what wasn’t? I didn’t have a degree in psychology. I wasn’t a psychic. He said he loved me. He said he had from the first time he saw me. He had never done anything to make me doubt him.
Ri must have seen the realization dawn on my face because she began nodding her head. “Yep. You fucked up. But don’t worry, I’m the queen of fixing fuck ups.” She slid my phone over to me. “Call him.”
“I can’t. He’s doing his podcast; it’s live.”
“Perfect!” she cheered.
“Why is that perfect?”
“Because…it’s a call-in show.”
