Page 4 of Hard To Love

I glared into his blue eyes, trying not to let his words sting. “Tell me how you really feel, Jack?” If this had been anyone else, I would have walked away.

His eyes softened and I felt a rush of emotions hit me all at once. He was right, as much as I hated to admit it; I’d been punishing myself, thinking that’s what I deserved.

“You know that I love you like a sister.”

“I know.” I sighed taking it all in. “And you’re right.”

“Good!” he said, relieved, “Because, we’re going out tonight and you’re going to act your age and have a little fun. Don’t say a word because I’m not taking no for an answer!”

I leaned my head back and let out a long, slow, exaggerated breath. “Fine!” I had nothing better to do anyway, “Where do you want to meet?”

A slow grin spread across his face causing a twinkle in his eye.

“Finally. I know these past few weeks have been tough, and you’re worried about Brad, but he’ll be fine. It’s just going to take him a little time to get there.”

“Have you talked to him?” I asked, hating the resulting rift in their friendship. They had grown close over the past two years.

“A little bit. Look,” he said, his tone growing serious. “Brad will be fine. You need to start concentrating on you. There’s a reason why you two broke up in the first place, isn’t there? You need to start focusing on your own happiness.”

Standing up, I reached over and pulled him in for a quick hug “Thank you for putting up with me. You’re a good friend even though I’ve been a buzzkill lately.”

He pulled away, lightly tapping his finger on the tip on my nose. “You’re welcome and you’re right. I really AM a great friend…. and your great friend, Jack, has a friend named Liam, who has hooked us up with VIP passes for The Pulse – the hottest club in Manhattan! Make sure your phone is charged so I can text you the details.”

The words no sooner had left his mouth than he was gone in a flash. He knew how much I hated going to clubs, and I was sure, he wanted to be gone before I realized what I had just committed to. I spent way too much “club time” in my early years, meeting loser after loser and forcing laughs at their cheesy pick-up lines like “Did you sit in a pile of sugar, because you have a pretty sweet ass” or “I’m not drunk, I’m just intoxicated by you.” You know what I’m talking about; the stuff of real poets! I’m much more the pub or tavern kind of girl, with great country music in the background and a cold beer on the bar. It doesn’t really matter anyways because I had already committed with Jack, and I know how much Cassie has been dying to get into The Pulse.

It wasthe middle of July in New York City and my walk home from the office usually only took about ten minutes. I arrived, slightly out of breath, as I made my way to our fifth-story walk up. Opening the door, I found Cassie sitting there, waiting for me. She had already ordered a pizza from our favorite place and there was a freshly opened bottle of Pinot Noir on the table.

“And this is why I will never run off and get married. No man can top this,” I said with a wink, flinging my messenger bag on the sofa. I immediately collapsed on the soft cushions, hastily kicking off my heels, and grabbed a magazine to fan myself and cool down a bit.

Urgently, Cassie walked over to me, and handed me a glass of wine. I could tell she had something on her mind. She plopped on the sofa next to me and let out a dramatic sigh…

” Jack called me and said we’re meeting him out for drinks tonight at The Pulse.” She arched her eyebrow, waiting for my reply, as she knew how much I loved nightclubs!

“I know. Jack sprung it on me earlier today,” I said rolling my eyes. “Agreeing was the only way I could get him off my back. Hopefully, this will be enough to satisfy his uncontrollable need to help me move past Brad.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” she said, clinking her glass with mine.

I took a huge sip from my glass and felt some of the tension leave my body. I realized that the wine was going down rather quickly and I was surprised at how tense I had been feeling.

“How about we get all dressed up like we used to? Blare the music and then do each other’s hair and make-up?” she called over her shoulder, as she made her way towards the kitchen.

Just as I was about to answer her, the doorbell rang and I jumped from the sofa grabbing my wallet, so I could pay for our dinner.

Carrying the steaming box into the kitchen, the smell of hot pepperoni filled the air, causing my stomach to growl. I set it down on the table and immediately dove right in.

“Why do you think I need help getting ready tonight? Are you afraid I forgot how to dress myself?” I asked between mouthfuls of pizza.

She rolled her eyes then sat across from me. Our apartment was small and our kitchen, like most in Manhattan, was tiny. There was barely enough room for the two of us, let alone our furniture. It was cramped and modest, but it was cozy and it was ours.

She placed a slice of pizza on her plate then propped her elbows on the table. “Emily, you’re gorgeous, but let’s face it.” Her eyes did a slow sweep over my body. “You have a habit of wearing baggy sweats and worn-out hoodies. You have an amazing body that most women would kill for and you keep it covered up all the time.”

I arched an eyebrow at her. “Spoken by the girl who has been thin her whole life.”

She let out an exasperated sigh and put her pizza down. “Don’t you dare let your mind go there! You’re perfect, gorgeous, and have a killer figure. That little girl that keeps popping up in your head no longer exists.”

I pushed my pizza away, suddenly losing my appetite. As much as I loved Cassie, she would never get how it felt to always be overweight, because she’s been thin her entire life. She was one of those girls who could eat whatever she wanted and not gain a pound. Me, on the other hand, I struggled with my weight growing up. It took me a long time and a lot of work to get to where I was today. I knew I would never be a size zero like her, and most of the women walking around Manhattan, but that was okay because I was happy being a size six.

“I know that,” I said, hoping she would drop the subject. I hated thinking about that time in my life, and did whatever I could to avoid talking about it.

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