Page 63 of All Her Broken Pieces

“Becka, I ordered online. I already pre-tipped in the app.”

“No wonder he was so thrilled to let me take it off his hands.” She opens the box and takes a big bite, the stringy cheese in her mouth still connected to the slice.

I grab two plates, hand her one, and add some slices to mine. We eat at the counter in silence for several minutes, savoring the cheesy goodness. Well, I am. Becka has already inhaled two pieces as I chew on the crust of my first slice.

“Fuck, Becka, you training to beat Joey Chestnut in next year’s hotdog eating contest?”

She lets out a burp. “I forgot how amazing it is to eat without a child interrupting me every five seconds. If I don’t inhale my food, I don’t eat warm food,” she explains. “So, we gonna talk about what’s happening with you and Ethan?”

I knew this was coming. She’s been careful not to talk about him too much, only casually asking about him here or there in a text.

“There’s not much to talk about. He’s just a friend who’s been helping me with my recovery.”

“You and I both know that’s a load of horseshit. That man is crazy about you. And what help do you even need at this point? You seem to be getting along just fine now. I’m pretty sure you’d have kicked him out if you wanted to.”

“Yeah, I can’t.”

“Because you like him as more than a friend?”

“Because we played truth or dare one night, and he won. He picked staying the whole six weeks as his prize.”

“Ooh, that’s kind of clever of him. But you didn’t deny that you like him. The Bridget I know wouldn’t let anyone stay in her apartment for that long unless there was something more going on.”

“We… might have had a moment a few weeks ago,” I admit.

“And?”

“We kissed, and I gave him a hand job, but the angle I was in when I did it pulled something in my stomach, so it’s been hands-off since then. I don’t want to reinjure myself, and I don’t want to rely on someone again for that much help. That first week was really hard for me.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here for you, but it sounds like Ethan stepped up.”

“He really did. Becka, he held my hair as I vomited into the toilet. It was extremely uncomfortable being that vulnerable and dependent on another person. I’d have felt equally as unbearable depending on you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean. I’ve lived most of my life on my own. I don’t need anyone to open my jars or change a lightbulb for me. And letting someone see me at my most vulnerable felt exposing in a way I’ll never be comfortable with.”

“But you let him,” she says leadingly.

I give her a look. “You obviously have an opinion about this. Spit it out.”

“He’s perfect for you, and I’m worried you’re going to push him away because getting attached to people scares you. It’s clear that he likes you. He might be falling in love with you.”

“And that’s also why I stopped the physical stuff. I cannot fall in love with him.”

“With him or with anyone?”

“Did I piss you off or something? Why are you coming at me so hard about him?”

“I was pissed at you when you didn’t tell me about your surgery. I get that you did it so Robert and I could get some time away, and I’m grateful, but you needed someone. And when I came over and saw Ethan, it was all over his face, his concern for you, how much he cares about you. I knew then you made the right decision, and I was thrilled you let someone else into your bubble. We weren’t meant to do life alone, and here is this man who wants to be part of your world. Why are you keeping him in the friend zone?”

It takes a minute to force out an answer as I try not to cry. I never thought I’d find myself in this situation again, letting another person take up residence in my heart, consuming my thoughts. What if he betrays me like every other man I’ve let in? A pain stabs at my chest, and I press my palm against my sternum to ease the ache.

“Because I don’t think I’d recover if it didn’t work out.” I hold back the sob that wants to escape, but my voice cracks on the last word, and I bury my head in my hands.

“Oh, honey, you can’t think like that. What if it did work out, and you missed out because you didn’t give him a chance?”

I let her words linger in my mind, searching for a response, but I come up short. An adult would ponder this more, weighing out options and feelings before deciding. Fuck that shit. Deflecting is my go-to.

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