“Okay,” I said, my voice a whisper. “I feel better after talking to you. My tummy hurts less.”
“Oh, Deacon,” he murmured. “You were so stressed. I feel better too. I was worried when I got your text. I mean, I love Tolstoy’s work, but oof, it can get dark.”
“I love his work too.”
“I know. I’ve seen your bookcase.”
I laughed at that, but I could hear clients in the reception area. “I should go,” I said. “I have clients. Thank you for calling.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Have a good day, Winter.”
“You too. Talk soon.”
I disconnected the call just as the door opened. Dad poked his head in and saw my phone in my hand. “Everything okay, Deac?”
I smiled and gave him a nod. “Yes. It is now.”
He seemed to understand, the way he always did. “Glad to hear it, because the O’Connell’s have their dog here to see you.”
“Of course,” I said. “I’ll come out and meet them.”
So the onething worse than actually going to the pizzeria to meet Winter and all his friends wasnotgoing.
I was confused by this.
Because the relief I’d felt when I’d decided not to go was now anguish about not being there.
They’d decided on Wednesday night, which was fine. Great, even. Good for them. But that meant I’d spent all Wednesday night in my room pacing, unable to sit still because I wanted to be there.
Except I didn’t want to be there.
And that was what confused me.
Mom knocked on my bedroom door. It opened slowly and her cautious face appeared, peeking in. “Deacon, honey,” she said. “I can hear you pacing. Do you want to talk?”
No.
I didn’t.
She came in and ushered me to sit on my bed. “Why are you upset? You said you didn’t want to go to the pizzeria?—”
“I don’t,” I said. “I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to meet all his friends and I didn’t want to be like this in front of him and them. I can be like this here, but not there. I don’t want them to see me like this, but now I wish I was there. I’m missing out on seeing him because... because I... why do I want to be there now when the very idea two days ago made me feel sick?”
So apparently I did want to talk about it.
She gave me a patient smile. “You want to see him, but not with everyone else there. That’s understandable.”
I made a face. “Is it though? Is him being there having a good time with his friends without me understandable? Because I’m missing out and he’s there with them and notme, because I wasn’t comfortable going, so now I wish I was there while at the same time I still don’t know if I could...” I sighed. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s confusing,” she offered gently. “But he can meet his friends, Deacon.”
“I know.” Ugh, that unease in my belly was back.
“He can have both. You and his friends. That doesn’t mean he’s prioritizing them over you. The two can exist together.”
I knew that. I did. But still . . .
