Page 26 of Love Under Construction

That is until I look up and see that he’s already awake and watching me with a smirk on his face. “Morning,” his voice has that sexy ‘I’ve just woken up’gravel to it, and my body starts humming.

Yep. There it is. The reminder of why I’ve avoided lettingthishappen again. Only because it feels right. Too right. And because my body responds to Jameson in a way that has never happened with anyone else.

Having him close means I risk more heartache. What if, one day, Jameson decides he doesn’t want me? What if, I ended up with cancer, like my dad? It’s not impossible - something I’ve been worrying over as well since Dad passed. Would Jameson run away then, leaving me to deal with it on my own?

Anxiety rises from my toes, my body starts to tingle in fear, and my heart rate kicks up — thoughts of chemo, radiation,death, race through my mind.

“Hey,” Jameson whispers as he touches my arm gently. “You okay? Where’d you go just now?”

His touch startles me, bringing me back to the present with a gasp for air. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. You should go. I’m sure you’ve got things to do today.” I try to push him away, but he nuzzles in closer.

“Not so fast,” he places a kiss on my forehead. “Tell me what just happened. You looked up at me; then you went a little pale. Where did your mind go?”

I groan, “Jameson, it’s nothing. Please. Just leave it alone okay?” I want him to drop it, and get out of my apartment so that I can fall apart entirely. And maybe take one of the anti-anxiety pills my doctor prescribed. Except Jameson doesn’t know the first thing about letting things go, this time is no exception.

“No. I’m not going to just to let it go Liv. You’ve been doing your best to push me away, even more, ever since we got back here. I told you there would be no going back, and I had a lot of lost time to make up for. I wasn’t kidding. I’m busting my ass here to prove to you thatweare worth a shot.”

He’s right. He has done nothing but prove that he’s worthy of me. It’s not him that I’m worried about. I’m more concerned that I don’t deserve him. That and the fact that I’m not quite over the realization that our parents put him up to look out for me when we were younger. Heck, maybe I’m not even sure that I’m convinced he's real about his feelings now. Perhaps he’s just in denial.

“I need to breathe Jameson. And, I need to pee. So, please, let me go.”

He releases his grip on me, and I jump up, running to the bathroom to escape. Behind the door, I handle my business and wash my hands. As I’m staring at my reflection in the mirror, the earlier anxiety comes rushing back, and a loud sob breaks free just before tears begin to stream down my face. My legs tremble beneath me, and before I know it, I’m in a heap on the bathroom floor, crying and shaking as my heart beats wildly out of my chest.

Somewhere in the background, I hear the muffled sound of the bathroom door clicking open and Jameson’s voice. He picks me up from the floor and sits me on the counter instead, tilting my chin up so that I’m looking at him and then his soothing voice takes over.

“Here, drink,” He tips a cool bottle of water to my lips,

and I slowly follow his instructions. As I start to calm down, he asks, “Do you want to try a cool shower?”

“No,” I whisper. “Need a minute.”

This isn’t fair to Jameson. He shouldn’t have to spend his life taking care of me, always bailing out of messes and pulling me from anxiety attacks. No matter how bad it hurts, I have to let him go, once and for all. I can’t live my life, leaning on him as my anchor, because what happens when that anchor is gone on that tie breaks? Then I’m right back here, where I started — a heap of emotion on the bathroom floor.

Taking a deep breath, I look up into Jameson’s eyes and say the words that I know will destroy us both.

“Jameson. I don’t want to be with you. You keep pushing, I know that’s what you want. You have this illusion that we can be together. That you can save me. But you can’t. Ineedyou to leave. To move on. Set your sights on someone else. The truth is, I’ve never seen you as more than a friend.”

I watch as he steps back like my words have punched him.

“You can’t mean that.”

“I do. Being near you makes me anxious.” It's manipulative and cruel, but still, the lie slips past my lips, and I know that I can’t take it back.

Jameson blows out a breath. “That’s the last thing I wanted to so. I’m sorry.”

Those are his last words to me as he stands up and walks out of the bathroom. I hear the rustling in my bedroom, and not long after that, my apartment door closes, and I fall apart.

* * *

It’s beenten days since Jameson walked out of my apartment. Ten days since I pushed him so far away that I know I’ll never get him back. And my anxiety has only gotten worse, which is something I am not looking forward to analyzing now, in my therapist’s office.

Laura sits back in her chair and looks over at me with a gentle smile. I like her. We’ve only been working together for a few session, but I feel like she actually understands me and what I’m going through. I’ve tried therapy before and felt like it didn’t work. This time is different except for when she makes me talk about the hard stuff.

“How’s your anxiety been this week?” She asks.

“Uhm. It’s been brutal” I tell her, honestly.

“How so? Tell me about it. Has anything else changed? Are you still practicing your coping mechanisms that we worked on?.”

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