Page 77 of If It Can't Be Us

I momentarily question my decision. Am I moving too fast? Reacting instead of finding a better resolution? No. If I want to defuse the situation, I need this space between us. “There’s nothing you can do to change my mind.”

Leo runs a hand through his hair, a familiar gesture when he’s anxious or uncertain. “Okay. I understand,” he begins quietly, his tone sincere. “I never want to cause you any unhappiness… Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.” He pauses, meeting my eyes with a hint of sadness. “Just… promise me we won’t lose what we have in the process.”

“I don’t think I can promise anything, Leo.” I’m afraid to say more for fear of losing control, and I’ve got to remain strong. “It’s probably best if I go.”

I start toward the door, Leo rising to follow. “You don’t need to walk me out,” I manage, my voice quivering. “Thank you for breakfast.”

I close the door behind me, struggling to maintain composure. Once outside, I lose control completely. Sobbing uncontrollably, I make my way next door. The emptiness inside my house mirrors the void within me. Doubts flood my mind; did I just make a terrible mistake?

Chapter 24

LEO

February 14

Six Weeks Later

Valentine’s Day. What a bloody stupid holiday. Do we really need a day to fake affection while reminding all the singles they’re on their own? If you truly care about someone, be a good partner every damn day. Date them, kiss them, cuddle up—show love by speaking their love language daily. That’s what I drill into my clients, albeit with more professional finesse. Today was a marathon of that, and it’s always heavier on V-Day. People pile on expectations, only to end up disappointed by their partners. Maybe we should just scratch this day off the calendar altogether.

I’ve got a session with Mer in fifteen minutes. We’ve been at it for six weeks now, doing EMDR. This is our fourth session. Normally, I wouldn’t mix therapy with friends, but I wouldn’t trust this with anyone else. EMDR’s a different beast; being friends matters less.

It’s been tough, brutal even, confronting my past again—emotional turmoil that’s painful to dredge up.

I want to do this for myself, for Andrew, for Chloe, but deep down, I know I’m doing this for Vivian. New Year’s made me realize that I want her in my life, I need her… but I don’t know how to step up. I’m unsure if that’s truly what I want. Can I commit? Can I be a good partner? I don’t even know if she’d accept me at this point—she won’t see me.

“Leo,” I hear Mer’s voice echo down the hallway. I’m sitting in the break room. “I’m ready for you.”

I walk down the familiar hallway to Meredith’s office. It’s strange to be on this side of therapy, the patient’s chair instead of the therapist’s.

“Have you spoken to Vivian yet?” Mer asks, her tone hopeful, fingers laced together in anticipation.

I shake my head as I enter the room. “No,” I admit quietly. “She’s still avoiding me. I texted her this morning, wishing her Happy Valentine’s Day and letting her know I was thinking of her. She replied with a simple, ‘Thanks, Leo’.”

“That’s it? That’s all she gave you?” Meredith asks, sounding shocked.

I shrug. “It is what it is. She’s been cordial. We text here and there. Occasionally, I see her coming in or out. I just miss her.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, wrapping her arms around me, and I reciprocate.

“It’s alright.” I reply, my tone somber.

“Okay,” Meredith gestures toward her couch. “Are you ready to get started?”

“I guess as ready as I’ll ever be,” I mutter, sinking into the sofa and trying to find some comfort.

“Today, let’s continue our work on processing your feelings about your mom, okay?” Meredith suggests gently.

I nod, familiar with the routine.

“I want you to think about a specific memory or image related to her that brings up strong emotions for you. Can you bring that to mind?” Meredith adopts her therapy voice, distinct from her usual tone. Our first session didn’t go well because I kept laughing, never having heard it before.

I take a deep breath. “Okay, I’m thinking about the day the police came to our house. I was ten years old, and they were talking to my dad at the door.” I pause, trying to relive it. “I had been hiding around the corner, listening to them.”

“Good. Now, as you hold on to that memory, notice any physical sensations or emotions that come up for you. Rate the intensity of those feelings on a scale from zero to ten,” Meredith says in a soothing tone.

With my eyes closed, I feel tension building. “It feels like a weight on my chest… maybe a seven out of ten.”

“Now, as you recall that memory and those feelings, I want you to follow the flashing-light movements with your eyes. Keep track of any thoughts, feelings, or images that come up.”

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