Page 65 of The Ones We Fight For

“What the hell happened last night?” Amala was eagerly leaning forward in the chair behind the desk when Talia finally made it to their shared office. “You can’t just text me saying you need to talk and then go MIA!”

“Sorry, it’s been not so fun.” Talia slumped into one of the guest seats across from Amala and immediately spewed out the basics: “Walker freaked out when Cliff and I were mini golfing and confessed that he thinks about me as more than a friend, Cliff punched him in the face, Walker said that we can’t ever be together, and Cliff ran off to be with his parent’s housekeeper—or, I guess, he’s probably on a plane right now, it’s a long flight.”

Amala’s lips opened and closed several times before she screwed up her face and blurted, “Woman, was that even English?”

Talia groaned and dramatically laid her head down on the desk between them.

It took twenty minutes to give Amala a proper run-through of the prior day’s events. A sweeping declaration of how all men were idiots rattled out of Amala’s mouth before she sat back in her chair, crossing her legs with a heavy look of contemplation. Amala’s head rocked from side to side, the human embodiment of a bobblehead as Talia waited a long, agonizing five seconds of silence before demanding answers.

“Tell me what to do!”

“Seduce him?” Amala suggested.

Talia rolled her eyes. “You’re no help.”

“I’m just saying, the whole cake fight thing felt like a euphemism. He clearly wants your cake, or… wants to lick icing off your body?”

“Can we get past your sexual fantasies about cake and be serious for two seconds?” Talia bit off.

“Oh, it’s not a fantasy for me. I’ve already lived that. I’m very into the whipped cream thing.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Talia drawled, sarcasm dripping off every word.

“Fine, fine. My honest opinion is that Walker’s right,” Amala stated.

Talia’s mouth fell open. “Excuse me? You can’t be serious!”

“Look, while I don’t agree with Walker’s ‘I screw everything up’ narrative, I understand where he’s coming from. I have a kid and one on the way, and I would do anything for them.”

“I’m aware that I don’t have and won’t have kids, Amala, you don’t have to remind me.” Talia scowled and pulled her arms tight to her chest to hold herself back from exploding on her best friend.

She was twisting Amala's words into something they weren’t, and she knew it. Occasionally, bitter resentment for everyone without infertility problems rose to her surface without warning in a very woe-is-me manner. The truth was, she was jealous. There were people out there who accidentally got pregnant, let alone tried and succeeded, and Talia would give anything to be one of them. But she wasn’t the type to throw herself a pity party, so she immediately regretted trying to make Amala out to be the bad guy. She had allowed anger to win out again. Defeat relaxed her limbs until her arms fell to her sides.

“Sorry,” Talia swallowed. “I know that’s not what you meant. I didn’t mean to get snippy with you.”

“Tal,” Amala’s tone grew softer as she spoke, her dark eyes warming with sincerity. “You may not have your own kids, but the reason Walker feels so strongly about not wanting to screw up your relationship with the kids is because it would be a huge loss for them.”

The truth of the words found its way straight into Talia’s heart, and she sat up straighter to listen.

“You’re not their mom, no, but you are a motherly figure to them, and that’s what they need right now. You know I’ve been on team Tal-Wal since the beginning, and I still am, but for right now, he’s right. It’s best to focus on healing. I really don’t think this will last forever, but am I wrong in thinking that you have some stuff to heal from, too?”

Talia bobbed her head and drummed her fingers on the desktop. “No, you’re right.”

Amala had a way of always cutting out the bullshit and getting to the root of a problem, and while it was painful for Talia to listen to, she was grateful. It made it easier to put everything into a neat little box with a bow and leave it in New York. Clifford coming to see her out of the blue had opened that box. Even without him, the box would have split out eventually. As it turned out, Talia hadn’t left her struggles behind at all. They stowed away on the plane with her to Archwood and chose the most inopportune time to resurface the wreckage of not just infertility, but her mother’s death. The number of times Talia had scolded herself for disappointing her mother just that morning was excessive. Lydia wouldn’t have even been disappointed. Instead, she would have had her sit between her legs on the floor so she could calmly brush Talia’s hair while offering soft-spoken words of wisdom and helping Talia consume the ice cream and popcorn she had single-handedly gorged on the night prior.

Then there was Talia’s father. Surely, her giant sinkhole of daddy issues deserved some attention, too. It was painstakingly obvious, due to her several recent outbursts and the accusations she had thrown at the people she loved, that she might have inherited some of Jeff Cohen’s anger issues. It was getting harder and harder to disassociate from someone who had given her half his gene pool, no matter how badly she wanted nothing to do with him. Jeff Cohen was the type of narcissist that was still sucking the life out of Talia beyond the grave. His rage was a part of her, and the trauma he caused was not only still haunting her, but Walker, the kids, and even Amala.

“You don’t have to be perfect before you can date someone,” Amala's voice called Talia back from her thoughts. “But I do think it would be nice if both of you figured out that you’re worth it. Walker needs to realize that it’s okay to want something for himself, and you need to realize that you are wanted. Not just by Walker, but by all of us.“

Wanted. The word knocked the wind out of Talia. All she ever hoped for in any relationship, whether it be platonic or otherwise, was to be wanted. Her lifestyle motto had always been to make herself indispensable so she’d be wanted at her job, wanted in her romantic relationships, and wanted by her friends. Constantly giving quickly led to burnout, which then led to a short temper.

Logically, as an intellectual who’d passed the bar exam with flying colors, Talia knew she wasn’t truly unwanted, but making herself feel that way was another story entirely. Walker’s admission and refusal to bridge the gap between friendship and more left her tied to a dock: wanted, but not enough to risk being lost on the open sea.

Even after endless rejection, there was still one thing Talia could hold onto: the kids. They did want her, needed her, even—she was sure of it. And she would be damned to ever give that up. Her own mental health didn’t just affect her anymore. Healing from her own trauma could eventually help them too.

“Okay,” Talia sucked in a steadying breath as she worked over a plan of action. “Therapy would be good for me. And I guess I’ll work on figuring out how to be just Walker’s friend without hurting myself more than I already have.”

“For now,” Amala agreed. “Then you’re both going to fail miserably at the whole friendship thing and rail each other into next week.”

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