Page 49 of The Serendipity

Trey’s proposal was dangling the biggest carrot just out of reach of a scared, hungry rabbit. He thought he would be motivation enough to force me past my “issue,” as he liked to call it.

My “issue” is that I have severe anxiety attacks when I try to leave Serendipity Springs.

I’d heard of agoraphobia, but I thought of it as being unable to leave home. Like Sigourney Weaver inCopycat, another 90s movie, likeThe Fugitive, that my dad loves.

Orloved. It hits a little too close to home now, and he hasn’t watched it sincebefore.

My sophomore year of college, I started having trouble sleeping whenever it was almost time to go back to school. I would spend the ride back to Boston with Trey battling car sickness and irrational worries. Sometimes the feelings eased up once I settled and started classes, but I was never fully okay until I went home to Serendipity Springs.

My junior year, I lost ten pounds I didn’t need to lose, and my grades started slipping. I couldn’t pinpoint what caused the sudden shift or why leaving home was now an issue.

All this anxiety culminated in a full-blown panic attack my senior year when I tried to drive back to school with Trey after Christmas. My parents, convinced it must be something physical like cancer or a thyroid problem, took me to the hospital and insisted on running every test known to man. We met our deductible that year in January.

Conclusion: a diagnosis of agoraphobia. I finished up my final classes completely online from home, and the university mailed my diploma to Serendipity Springs.

Turns out, agoraphobia doesn’t have to be limited to not leaving your house. At its root, it’s an anxiety disorder that often manifests when it comes to being in public spaces or crowded spaces—or, apparently, even leaving a larger, broader area like your hometown.

It doesn’t make sense to me. Not even after therapy sessions—one of my least favorite things—and doing internet research. I even joined an anonymous online forum to connect with other people who deal with varying presentations of agoraphobia.

Some don’t leave their homes, some can’t go to grocery stores, malls, or other crowded spaces. A few are unable to ride in vehicles.

A handful are like me: unable to leave the city or town where they currently reside. But it’s not common.

Yay, I’m special!

I have no idea why this started. There wasn’t an event or trigger I’ve been able to pinpoint. My therapist says there isn’t always a singular moment because anxiety doesn’t always follow rules or drive in a straight line.

If my diagnosis was tough for me to wrap my head around, it was impossible for Trey. I still remember the concern on his face when I asked him to pull the car over on the highway as we left Serendipity Springs. My heart was racing, my vision blurry, and I couldn’t get enough air. His concern and worry quickly turned to confusion when, through halting breaths, I begged him to drive me back home.

And when we were unpacking my things from Trey’s car, his confusion took on a tiny undercurrent of anger.

I get it. Really, I do. This sounds made up. I’d never heard of something like this until it happened to me. I could understandwhy it was difficult for Trey to understand why we went from being attached at the hip to suddenly being in a long-distance relationship our senior year.

We’d never had real tension before that. He wanted to understand. He tried. He was kind.

But I could always sense his frustration rippling underneath the surface. I’m not sure he ever fully believed me.

Which is why, when he got the job offer for Paris right after graduation, he took it without consulting me, then asked me to marry him and come with him. He really thought that putting me in an impossible position would somehow be the thing I needed to break through my anxiety.

Joke’s on you, pal. Anxiety disorders don’t respond well to pressure.

Now, with Sophie’s kind gaze and her warm hands squeezing mine, I feel what I stopped feeling with Trey. Safe. He stopped being a safe haven, someone I could trust.

There was no way I could marry him and go to Paris. No way I wouldwant towhen he’d put me in that position. All it did was prove he never really understood. Not if he thought I could just positive-think myself out of the crippling anxiety I faced any time I tried to leave Serendipity Springs.

Trey isn’t a horrible person. I have to believe he thought he was helping. He thought this would set me free, giving me something I wanted so much that I’d be able to do something I hadn’t done in almost a year—to be physically, mentally, and emotionally able to leave Serendipity Springs.

“I’m sorry you’re going through so many things at once,” Sophie says, drawing me back to this rooftop moment.

A breeze lifts my hair, stirring it on my shoulders, and I smile. “I’ll be okay. I will.”

“Duh. You’re Willa freaking Smith, a single tiny vowel away from being Will Smith. You can doanything.”

“Honestly, I feel okay about it. It’s going to be awkward when I see him again.”

“You think you will?”

“Serendipity Springs is too small for us not to run into each other. Or the stupid town magic.”

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