Page 72 of Drilled (Dad Bod Contracting 2)
Who would be at my door at this time without having pressed the buzzer? I check the peephole, and then open it.
“How’d you get past the buzzer?” I ask.
Imogen enters without answering, two bottles of wine in a bag in one hand, and a box of Enlightened ice cream bars in the other. “Somebody was coming in and I followed behind her.”
“It’s almost midnight,” I point out, letting the door shut.
“And you’re off tomorrow,” she says, putting the box of ice cream bars in my freezer.
“How do you know my schedule?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes at me. “You’re a creature of routine, Audra. No matter how busy you get, you always take the first Sunday of every month off. Always. It’s your dedicated self-care day, and it has been since you started working as a personal trainer.”
“Oh.” I sigh, and snag glasses from the cabinet, pouring the rest of the bottle I started into our glasses. “Well, you’re here, I assume, to drag the details out of me?”
She takes a seat on my couch, steals my spoon and the ice cream, and nods as she takes a bite. “You said when this whole thing with Franco first started that you two would either be incredible together, or you’d destroy each other. And, so far, it seems like the latter.” She points at me with the spoon. “You’ve slept together, what? Three times? Meaning, three separate incidents? The day you met, at your place after your weird date-but-not-a-date, and the day of the barbecue. And in between those times, you threw yourself into ninety-hour work weeks, tore yourself apart with your own workouts, and have been totally ignoring me.”
“I’m not ignoring you.”
Her eyes well up, surprising me. “You are too!” She slams the ice cream down on the side table and scrubs at her face. “I barely see you anymore! You’re always working, and even when I do see you, you’re barely there. You’re just…cold. Shut down. I know you see yourself as some ice queen, but I’ve never felt that from you toward me…until lately. Now? Yeah, you’re ice-cold, all the time.”
“I’m, look—”
“NO! You look! You’re so fucking stupid, you know that?” She stands up, pacing away, and then stopping to face me from across the living room. “You and Franco are made for each other! Don’t you see that? It’s obvious to everyone else, except you! And him, too, apparently, because Jess is just as fed up as I am. I don’t know what happened with you guys the day of the barbecue, but whatever it was, it must’ve been big, because ever since then you’ve been just… a block of ice. Like a statue of yourself carved out of a glacier.” She gestures at me. “And for someone who brags about being so healthy and so fit, you’re awfully blind to the fact that you’re overworking yourself—you’re ten seconds from burnout, Audra. You’re thinner than you’ve ever been, and at this point it’s not a good thing.”
She pauses, blinks hard, staring at me even harder.
She’s not done yet, it seems. “You’re so fucking stubborn, you’d rather literally work yourself to death than admit you’re hurt, or that you want him, or that you feel something for him, or whatever it is. I don’t know—god knows you sure as hell won’t fucking tell me! I’ve tried to be understanding, tried to give you your space, let you figure it out, tried to just be your friend and love you no matter what, but I can’t just stand by and pretend it’s fine anymore! It’s not fine, Audra. You’re not fine. He’s not fine. This whole thing is absolutely bonkers, and it could be so simple but you’re both so goddamned stupid and stubborn, so blindly clinging to decades-old hurt that you can’t see what’s right in fucking front of you!”
You know Imogen is serious as a heart attack when she swears like this.
“Imogen, it’s not—”
“I’m not done!” she snaps. “It is that simple. It is. It is absolutely without a doubt that simple.” She sits back down. “I don’t know what to tell you to do. I don’t know what the answer is. If you can’t let yourself love Franco, then maybe you need to leave, because you’ll never get past this with him around. And if you don’t figure it out, you’re going to crash, and it’s going to be messy. Ever heard of adrenal burn out? I know you have. That’s where you’re headed, babe, and I’m telling you so there’s zero chance you’re not aware of it.”
I sigh. “I know, I know, I just—”
“Franco could be the best thing that’s ever happened to you, Audra. I know Jesse is the best thing that ever happened to me, and I know they’re different kinds of men, but they’re cut from the same cloth.” She sighs. “But you know this. I can tell just by looking at you that you know this. There’s nothing I can say that you don’t know.”
