Page 78 of The One I Need
“She is,” he says. “She’ll be back in town in three months. I’d love for you to meet her.”
“Does she know?” I ask.
“No,” he says as he starts walking over to his couch. “I have a feeling if I told her, she’d turn her car around, and I’m not about to be the one that ruins her Mother Road voyage.”
“That makes sense,” I say. “By the time she’s back, we’ll be divorced. We can tell her then and all have a good laugh about it.”
Except neither of us are laughing. But we should be. Tonight was a fun night. We drank, we laughed, we cracked jokes on ourselves that we can only do now in hindsight of our antics. For the first time since I realized I was married to Oliver Price, I felt okay about it. I felt good, even. I didn’t feel like a weight was on my chest and the only thing that could alleviate it was the signed and finalized divorce papers.
“So what did you think of them?” Oliver asks. I don’t know if he could tell that I needed a topic change, or if he did, but I’m glad for it.
“They are great. Even Simon.”
This makes him laugh. “He’s something, isn’t he?”
“That’s one way to put it,” I say as I make myself comfortable. “I will say, your group is an interesting dynamic.”
“Meaning?”
“You guys seem so different,” I say. “First off, I want to go on record saying that Amelia must be a saint to have put up with all of you over the years.”
“She is. We’ve nominated her many times.”
“Good,” I continue. “So you have Wes, who at first seems very even keeled. Then I saw him with Betsy and the kids and he was this big, goofy guy. Then there’s Simon, who’s just a different brand of cocky. Shane, I think, said three words all night. Then there’s you.”
He leans his head on his hand against the back of the couch as he shows off that smug smile. “What about me?”
“You really want me to go there?”
“More than anything.”
I bring my feet up under my legs, getting a little more comfortable. “You’re loud and bright and freaking cheerful.”
“I don’t know why you needed to use the word ‘freaking’ there, but go on.”
“Because you are. You’re freaking cheerful. You make friends with strangers standing in line. You somehow got me to go to a farmers’ market and do other people-y things. I hate people.”
“No, you don’t,” he says. “Just certain ones.”
“Most,” I say. “Anyway, it’s so interesting to see you in your group of friends. You’re so you, and so different from them, but somehow you all work. It’s something you don’t see every day.”
“Do you have that? Or did you back before you moved?”
Fuck, I walked right into that one, didn’t I? It’s a perfectly normal question. And it’s very normal for people to ask questions back to the other person when you’re getting to know them. I don’t want to answer. My mind and defensive reflexes are screaming at me to change the subject. That if I tell Oliver a little, he’ll want to know everything. I’m definitely not ready for that. But part of me also thinks one day I might be, and I’ll never know if I don’t start somewhere. I must have had more to drink tonight than I thought…
“I didn’t,” I say. Oliver’s eyes go wide as he realizes I’m actually answering a personal question, but he quickly corrects himself. “I had a few friends, but nothing like you guys. I had my priorities in high school, and safe to say, a group of friends was not that priority.”
There. Easy. Told the truth, opened up a little, while not letting the whole damn can of worms explode.
“Thank you,” he says.
“For what?”
“For that. I know talking about your past isn’t something you like to do. I appreciate knowing that you trust me with that.”
“I wish I could tell you more,” I say, suddenly feeling vulnerable, but in a good way. Like I’m safe if I open up just a little bit more. “But just the thought of saying words out loud makes me want to vomit.”
Oliver holds out his arms, which I go into without question. I know I shouldn’t. I know in my head I’m taking advantage of his feelings. But here, in Oliver’s arms, is the only place I feel safe. That I feel like the demons from my past aren’t controlling my every move.
