Page 15 of A Flighty Fake Boyfriend
Thursday morning began like a lot of coastal mornings—with the sound of a foghorn in the distance and mist so thick it was nearly impossible to see. The worst of it burned off before Daniel, Cam, and I finished breakfast.
Dan and I drank more coffee on the porch while we watched Cam play with the animals under the guise of “getting a little exercise.”
It seemed a little sacred, the way Cam became a boy around his dogs. Despite his size, despite his thickly muscled body and beard shadow, Cam’s eyes lit with happiness every time he tossed a Frisbee and one of the dogs caught it. I could only imagine how lovely he would be with his children if he and Daniel decided to have any.
“You’re a lucky man, Daniel Livingston. Ever thought about having kids?”
“Actually, that’s the plan.” Daniel smiled softly. “We’ve been looking for a surrogate.”
“That’s wonderful.” I almost teared up. “You’ll be great dads.”
“Knock wood.” He tapped his knuckles lightly on the porch railing.
I picked up my bag to take it to the car. “I’ve got to get on the road. I promised Epic I’d pick him up at nine."
“Come here, you.” Cam ran over and threw his arms around me. It wasn’t enough he could crush me with a hug, but he lifted me into the air and swung me around. Despite the indignity, I liked that a lot more than I should have.
“Hey!” I made a weak protest.
“Don’t take so long to come visit next time,” Cam said sternly. “We’ve missed you.”
“I won’t.”
“And eat something. My God, that was like lifting a middle schooler.”
“I’m not that light.”
“You need to get some meat back on your bones.” Cam’s smile dazzled me a little.
“Take care of yourself,” Dan said, patting my shoulder.
“I hear you both. I promise.” I couldn’t look Dan in the eye. “I’ll do better.”
He hugged me hard. “Please do. We love you. You know that.”
“I do. Love you too.”
I opened the door of my car. “Bye!”
Cam threw the Frisbee so the dogs had to run in the opposite direction, then he gave me a big smooch on the cheek.
“Bye, Ry. Take a break before you go back to saving the world.”
“Will do.” I ducked into the car and started the engine. I waved a final time before I drove off. As their pleasant cottage got smaller in the rearview, I was subsumed by envy, which was so unusual for me I almost didn’t recognize it at first.
I attributed my emotions to missing their company and the peaceful home they’d built together, but at the core of my feelings was a sense of unbearable loss and a quagmire of whys—why did I pursue my professional goals to the detriment of my personal life? Why would a personal life have been so bad? Why couldn’t I have what they have?
The answer, as always, was because I wasn’t strong enough, or smart enough, or organized enough, or brave enough to have it all. If I had to choose, then what I did professionally was so much more important than anything I could do privately. It wasn’t even a contest for me.
Instead of bemoaning what I couldn’t have, I should have rejoiced in what I could. And sometimes, I was able to do just that. Sometimes a win on the international front—if we were to find the missing schoolgirls or cut the head off an operation that dealt in slave labor, then I could celebrate my choices.
It was only when I was at loose ends, like I was then, trying to gather together the tattered scraps of what little personal life I had, that I was aware of how unbalanced my priorities were.
Dan and Cam were right. I should have eaten more. Drank less. Smoked less. I should have found a way to handle stress that didn’t take years off my life.
Note to self: Install meditation app on phone and learn to use it.Mentally, I added,afterthe weddingbecause I just knew I’d be using old familiar coping mechanisms on this trip.
And Epic.
