Page 70 of Three Pucking Words
I’d never dreamed of being in the position I’m in now; divorced and living with her father and stepmother in mythirties after being loyal to my husband to a fault. The day Bodhi disappeared from the bar, I told myself that was it. I’d had one night where I could feel like somebody truly appreciated me for who I was. I’d accepted that if that was all I could get from him, then I would be okay.
But here we are, all this time later.
Her shoulders lift. “Still. Maybe it means something.”
That’s the problem. Iwantit to mean something. I want nothing more than to claim fate is trying to tell me I’m meant to be in Bodhi’s life, but I don’t. Because that would give me hope, and hope means that I can be let down again.
I’m a walking cliché of hurt and mistrust. The ink on my divorce papers are barely dry and I’m already pent up over some other guy? Someone famous? Someone the world fawns over? It seems dangerous. He has a kid to consider. If Gemma doesn’t want someone around, ifhedoesn’t want me around her—
“I need you to stop spiraling,” my best friend says, waving her hand in my front of my face. “I can tell you’re freaking out right now. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”
I frown.
“Deep breath,” she instructs.
I close my eyes and count to five.
“Better?” she asks.
Eventually, I set my fork down and nod. “You think I’m being dumb.” It’s not a question.
To her credit, she shakes her head. “No. I think you’re being cautious after somebody who should have loved you, hurt you. That isn’t going to go away just because you met someone you like. In fact, moving on will probably trigger a lot of those issues and make it harder to make peace with your past. What you have to decide for yourself is if youwantthose issues to get in the way of being with someone who is worth your time and energy.”
Since when did she become the voice of reason? “And you think that’s Bodhi?”
She cuts into the bun. “I think anything is possible.”
“What if it isn’t just a rebound?” I whisper, peeking up at her through my lashes.
Mila reaches out and takes my hand. “What if you don’t take the chance and he’s the person you should have been with all along? What if you miss out on something fun for once in your life because you’re scared?”
All I can do is swallow my panic.
I really hate when she has a point. “Mila?”
She hums.
“You and GiGi should get a cat.”
My bestie deadpans. “And why is that?”
I smile weakly. “Because you love her.”
She goes to reply but closes her mouth. Then the corners twitch upward, and she nods. “Look at us,” she says softly. “Two girls who’ve got it bad for people.”
All I can do is stare.
And realize…she’s right.
Again.
*
The headache formsslowly at work, growing in my temples until a piercing pain surrounds both my eyes and makes it impossible to stare any longer at my computer screen. Soon after that, nausea settles into my stomach and I have to close my eyes and take long, deep breaths to try calming my stomach down.
After being diagnosed with epilepsy, I started assuming everything was related to it out of anxiety. Headache? Muscle spasms? Fatigue? I’d let myself believe that it must be anoncoming seizure. Not having control of your body is terrifying. And not being able to stop it is worse.
Puck relieves a lot of that fear for me. Before him, I was a mess of nerves. Most of my episodes happened when I was alone. Whether it was when I was a kid and Mom was away, or an adult when Max was who knows where. My doctor back in Illinois told me that a service animal would help me find comfort in living without fear. While I still have my moments, I’ve stopped associating every tiny ailment to my diagnosis.
