Page 90 of Some Sort of Happy (Happy Crazy Love 1)
“I thought so!” Her reaction was so joyful I thought for sure she had me confused with another contestant.
“I’m Skylar Nixon,” I said, as if she couldn’t read the medical chart on the door.
“I know!” She rocked back on her heels gleefully. “My friend and I loved you on that show! You were the only fun thing about it! That time you threw the drink on Whiney Whitney? Priceless!”
I blinked at her. Was this for real? Or was this my brain on drugs? “Seriously?”
“Yes.” Smiling, she finished up with my blood pressure. “We were so bummed when you left.”
“But I was so horrible.”
She shrugged. “It was fun to watch, though. Who wants to watch a bunch of people being nice to each other?”
“That’s what I told her,” put in Natalie.
Sighing, I shook my head. “Whatever. I’m just glad it’s behind me. But thanks.” I gave the young nurse a smile. “I appreciate it.”
Some time during the afternoon, I was cleared for release and sent home with lots of pain meds and instructions to take it easy. My mother took me back to her house and insisted I stay there, even though I was a little desperate for some alone time. But it was nice to be fussed over and catered to, I’ll admit. She made spaghetti and meatballs for me, which I ate on a tray table while snuggled in a cozy spot on the couch. Jillian came over with honey sticks, chocolate chip cookies, and my favorite shampoo and conditioner, and after dinner she helped me wash and dry my hair, then gave me a foot massage on the couch while I ate sweets and watched a Tiger game on TV with my dad.
I checked my phone only once and saw messages from Mia and Kelly Pryce, who must have heard about my fall from Sebastian, but there was nothing from him. Disappointed, I put my phone away and tried to enjoy the time with my family, despite my aching head and sore arm.
But before I fell into a drug-induced deep sleep that night in my old bed, I fretted that he’d changed his mind about me and gone back to thinking that a relationship was just too much work, even if I was the one.
“I’ve been lying to you.”
Ken took my characteristic bluntness in stride, regarding me silently, waiting for me to go on. If he was alarmed, he didn’t show it, nor did his expression betray any surprise at what I’d announced. He had to know something was up—I’d never asked him to come in on a Saturday before.
“And I canceled all of last month’s appointments to avoid facing the truth.” Perched at the edge of the couch, I slid my hands up and down the tops of my legs, anxious about making this confession but knowing it had to be done.
“I was worried about that.” He looked at me intently. “Did you have a relapse?”
“Yes. For months now, I’ve been backsliding.”
He reached for his notepad and clicked his ballpoint pen. “Intrusive thoughts?”
“Yes. And the rituals. And anxiety, the worst anxiety I’ve ever felt.”
He made a note and flipped back a few pages. “Months, you said? About when did this start?”
“August twenty-fifth.”
Ken looked up. “What triggered it?”
“Skylar told me she loved me.” For a second, I blamed Skylar for telling me she loved me for the first time on an odd day. Didn’t she know nothing good happened to me on odd days?
“And what about that was traumatic for you?”
I stared at my hands on my legs. “The weight of it. The responsibility.”
He made another note. “Tell me about the responsibility of loving someone.”
God, didn’t he understand me at all? “It’s not the responsibility of loving someone. Loving her is easy. It’s effortless.” I took a breath and tried to put into words how I felt. “It’s the responsibility that comes with letting someone love you. It means you’re beholden to that love. You have to sustain that love.”
“You have to deserve that love.”
Aha. He did understand me.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “And no matter how much my heart feels for her, my head just keeps convincing me I’m doomed to disappoint her, or worse.”
