It’s all petty nonsense that isn’t hurting me physically, so for now, I’m happy to deny her the attention she craves. I just document her antics and pass them along to my lawyer.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when my phone alerts me to a new message.
I finally set down the towel I’d been refolding endlessly and reach for my phone on the side table. With the couch buried under folded clothes, I perch on the coffee table’s edge instead.
The phone trembles in my hand when I see the familiar name and number on my screen.
Butterflies erupt in my stomach, and I can’t tell if they’re a good sign or a warning.
A soft laugh breezes past my lips when I read his message.
KEATON
Hi, Charlie. This is Keaton. I don’t know if you remember me, but we met at the bar a while back. I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner?
I read the message again and again, a small smile tugging at my lips. The butterflies multiply when I realize he’s slipped back into the playful role play we once started.
Somehow, that brings a strange kind of comfort.
I exit the thread, unsure if I want to reply. I pause to sort my emotions about him reaching out. Has he tried before? Until two weeks ago, I’d blocked him everywhere, because otherwise I’d keep looking over my shoulder.
Two weeks ago, Keaton drifted into my thoughts, and for the first time, it didn’t hurt. Realizing my progress made me want to test my boundaries. I’m proud I checked his profiles only once since then, and I saw he’s been changing and healing, too.
Still, tonight’s message caught me off guard. I’m not upset he reached out. If I’m honest, I doubt I’d have had the courage to do it myself. The sting of his betrayal has faded, but new emotions have quietly taken its place.
Fear is one of them.
I put Kayla and Amelia on a conference call and wait for them to answer as I nibble on the tip of my finger.
When they’re both on the line, I blurt out, “Keaton messaged me asking for a date.”
“How does that make you feel?” Kayla asks.
“Excited. Scared. Happy. Sad.” I blow out a breath. “You all remember how he pretended we were each meeting the other for the first time that one night at the bar?”
Amelia was there, but I’d told Kayla about it during one of our many talks.
“I remember. I could tell you were curious about the new person he was becoming then,” Amelia says.
“It was a unique concept, for sure. I was staring into the face of someone I’d loved for so long, but he was such a stranger to me.”
“Do you want to get to know this new version?” Kayla asks.
I nibble on my lip as I think about all the things I’ve learned over the past six months.
“I thought I wanted to back then. I was so sure I was healing enough to do that. When he asked me out at Grinders and I actually had to make a choice, I finally understood just how much healing I still had to do. The thought of going out on a date with him then—the thought of making myself vulnerable to him again—sent me into such a negative spin that I knew I was far from ready for that. If the person who promised to love me forever could destroy me, how could I trust that a stranger wouldn’t do the same? It took that day for me to understand that I wasn’t going to heal properly as long as he was still in my life. Because as long as he was there, even in the background, I was always going to have that piece of myself that was hopelessly in love with him, wanting to put his feelings ahead of my own.”
“And where are you at now? Are you truly in a place where you can accept that invitation without it sending you into a negative headspace?” Amelia inquires.
“I think I’m ready. I don’t know exactly what, but friendship feels like a safe place to begin. I want to meet the man he’s become, not the boy who once broke me. I used to wonder who we’d be if we met later in life. Maybe this is my chance to find out.”
“I understand what you’re saying,” Kayla agrees. “This is your chance to find out who you both are as more mature adults. Adults who have been through some shit. I think this could bethe opportunity to see just how strong your feelings for each other are. Going into this slowly and setting boundaries early leaves you with less of a risk than if you jumped straight back into a relationship.”
I’m curious how much of this she’s taking into her own relationship with Brock.
“I hear what you’re thinking,” she says softly. “I’m doing the same with Brock. I promise.”
Amelia snorts. “Not me. The only friendly thing you’ll see me do with David is make him choke on the eggplant I bought yesterday. I’d like him to know what it’s like to choke on his bullshit.” Her voice goes quiet until she mutters, “Limp dick, hemorrhoid-looking, stanky cooch fucker.”
