Page 24 of Must Have Been Love

In every battle we have, I’m the loser before we get started.

“There’s no love interest in my life,” I tell him, just to make myself clear. “The woman I’m referring to is the one who has inherited the bar I want to buy on the island. Ayda wandered off earlier this week and she ended up in the bar with her.”

“Ah yes, your sister told me about that, too. When she called about the party. I hear Ayda was missing for a good while. How did you feel about that?”

“Annoyed. Afraid. Mostly annoyed.”

“Why annoyed?”

“Because Autumn knew better than to let Ayda wander off.”

“But the island is safe. You’ve made it that way.”

Yes I have, as much as I can. I know nearly everybody who lives there. Plus the people who come to stay at the hotel are extremely rich and vetted. But it’s not exclusive. Anybody can get on the ferry and arrive at their own whim. In the summer it’s full of tourists and I’m already uncomfortable about that.

“I didn’t know about this woman coming to stay at the bar,” I say. “I was blindsided.”

“I imagine that made you feel uncomfortable.”

“Mostly annoyed,” I say, my throat feeling itchy.

“But Ayda was okay, yes?”

“She was fine.”

“Autumn says this new woman is about her age. Is that right?”

“I guess so. Is that it? Can I go now?”

“This isn’t a prison, Hudson,” Dr. Methi says mildly. “You’re always free to leave. Whenever you want.”

“But it’s not about what I want, is it?” I reply. “It’s about what’s best for Ayda. I don’t come here for me, I come here for her. So I guess what I’m asking is if it’s okay for me to leave now, and still bring my daughter back next week so that we can work on getting her talking again.”

Christ, my blood pressure feels like it’s peaking. I need to get some exercise. Hit the gym or go running.

Or fuck somebody until we both collapse on the bed, sated and spent. Like I used to, before my life became…this.

“Of course it’s okay,” Dr. Methi says. To my immense relief he stands and walks over to the door, gesturing me to follow. When I reach where he’s standing, I wait for him to open it, but instead he puts his hand on my arm.

“It is okay for you to think of yourself sometimes,” he says gently. “I know that you want Ayda to speak again. That’s what we all want. But you’ve both been through trauma and you both need to heal.”

He pats my arm softly, and for some reason that makes my throat feel tight. I’m not used to being touched. I don’t like it.

I’m used to being the one in charge, in control. I prefer it that way, because then I know where I stand.

“Just be kind to yourself,” he murmurs as he opens the door. “You deserve to heal as much as Ayda does.”

As soon as she hears the door open, my daughter’s face lifts from the page she’s coloring and looks up at me. And then I see it, that fucking lit-up-face that Dr. Methi talked about.

The twist in my stomach tightens even more, but I ignore it, smiling at my girl as I walk toward her and pull her into my arms. She laughs – along with crying and coughing it’s the only sound she makes, so it feels very damn precious. I hold her tight and she buries her face against my neck, the smell of her strawberry shampoo filling my senses.

“Ready to go?” I ask her.

She nods happily.

“Good.” I glance at Dr. Methi. “Because we have work to do. Tomorrow we’re delivering your birthday invitations.”

He smiles at me, then turns and walks back into his office.

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