Page 100 of Stepping Up to the Plate

As we stand beside my car in front of the coffee shop, he pushes a stray curl behind my ear. “I already know the answers but I’m going to ask, anyway. Are we still good?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll call me if you need anything? Anything, Lola.”

“Yes.”

He searches my face for signs of deception as indecision haunts him. I see the moment whatever was warring in his mind is settled before he curls that hand around the back of my neck and kisses me.Kissmight not be a strong enough word for what this is. Brady is devouring me on this sidewalk. He is both taking my breath away and breathing it back into me. He is putting into this kiss all the words he wants to say but knows he shouldn’t. He is telling me with his lips how he feels about me and about us. It’s a mix of frustration, desperation, and total devotion. It’s humbling and uplifting at the same time.

By the time he pulls away, I am gasping. I think he’s going to say something else, but with a nod of his head and a smirk, he turns and walks towards his truck. I don’t miss the way he waits for me to pull out before doing the same. I drive half in a daze to my next errand of the day.

ChapterForty-Seven

• LOLA •

October

It’s been three weeks since I returned from Chicago. The Songbirds managed to clinch the division championship and are now on to the League Championship series. Despite his apprehension to the break, Brady has been diligently following my boundaries. We’ve texted once a day and have gone out for coffee three times.

I tried insisting we split the bill, but Brady has shown up early each time and ordered ahead. Conversation flowed more easily after our initial meeting, though it is mostly me telling him what I have been doing. Normally, I would push for him to share more, but I know right now he is living and breathing baseball. I think he is grateful to talk about anything else. At the end of each date, he has given me a kiss that can only be described as indecent and walked away with a smug smirk on his face.

Today is my fifth appointment with my therapist, Lynn. We’ve been meeting twice a week since she knows about the six-week time frame I’ve imposed for this break. She applauded us both on our adherence to the rules. In fact, my text-of-the-day informed Brady of that praise.

Lynn and I have been diving into my childhood issues in order to help me understand my anxious attachment style. While I was thrilled to learn I wasn’t co-dependent as Dr. Google diagnosed, I had a lot more baggage to unpack than I thought.

The abandonment by my mother and emotional absence of my father did a real number on me, apparently. It’s part of why I settled for a partner like Phil. He was a safe option, especially with the way he loved bombed me in the early years. It wasn’t until after we were married and he pulled away that I began compartmentalizing my life in order to endure it.

Lynn thinks it’s why I believe Brady will seek a more sexually adventurous partner despite his reassurances of the contrary and no evidence that he has needs I am not meeting. Once our break is over, she thinks it would be a good idea for him to come with me for a session or two and shockingly he agreed. I didn’t think he’d want to open himself up to a stranger, but he told me that he would do anything I needed to be secure in our relationship, including therapy.

As I sit on the cushy sofa in Lynn’s office, I am struck by the nugget of wisdom she dropped on me. “I’m going to need you to repeat that,” I say.

She smiles at me, her warm brown eyes shining in understanding. “You are defined by the next decision you make, not the last one.” After a pause, she asks, “What do you think that means?”

I take a few moments to process before I respond. “That I should be focused forward and not worrying about the mistakes I made in the past?”

“In a sense,” she replies. “There is a lot we can learn from the past. It can inform why we see the world and ourselves the way we do. It can explain why we have certain attachment styles, coping mechanisms, and things of that nature. But spending too much time overanalyzing our past can be harmful. At a certain point we need to take what we’ve learned and apply it to how we move forward. We can’t change what happened or how we reacted to it. All we can do is try to make different, better choices in the future.

“You often refer to yourself as Lola 2.0. I take that to mean that you are doing that: making different, better choices. Would you agree with that assessment?”

“Yes,” I confirm.

“What has been your motivation?”

I answer instantly, parroting her phrasing back to her. “To prove that I am different and better.”

“Prove to who?”

“What?”

“Who are you trying to show that you are different and better? And why?”

“I-”

She’s throwing me for a loop with this question. Who am I trying to prove that I am different and better? My mom? Phil? Myself? I don’t have a firm answer.

“I’ll let you mull that over for yourself. The answer doesn’t change my take on it or the meaning behind my statement about being defined by your next decision and not your last.

“What that phrase illustrates to me is that in a world that is constantly changing and moving, so are we as people. Who we are and what decisions we made last year, last month, and even last week are insignificant to our self-perception. We aren’t making different, better choices toshowwe’ve grown. We’re making different, better choicesbecausewe’ve grown.

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