“Touché.”
“You can’t live your life with his words in your ear, Freya.” Sure, I might not know what he’s said exactly, but I have a damn good guess. “You’re not the version of yourself he thinks you were.”
“How do you know that?” she asks quietly.
“Because I do.” I fall silent for a moment, debating whether to ask my next question or not. Really, I don’t need to bother; I know the answer. But in the end, the words fall free regardless.“Before you met him, did you overthink everything like you do now?”
She went to college, and she decided to leave her hometown and her parents to go to Las Vegas. She then left all that behind for a man. I’m struggling to match that girl to the woman I know now.
“No,” she finally confesses. “But I was younger, and?—”
“Age has nothing to do with confidence, Freya.”
She lets out a huge sigh.
“What do you want to hear? That he totally messed me up?”
“Hell no. I don’t need to hear anything. I would, however, like to see you pushing past all that. You’re an incredible person with an amazing talent, Freya. No one else on the planet should make you second-guess that.”
She ducks her head, unable to accept the compliment.
My fists curl at my sides. I really want to hurt the motherfucker who did this to her.
“I’m doing better than I was,” she admits.
“I know it’s hard. Trust me, I do. But the only person who should have the power to control your happiness is you. Also, life is too fucking short to be miserable and questioning everything. Fuck him and his unwanted opinions. No one gives a shit about him.”
“Not entirely true.”
“I don’t give a fuck if he’s a famous musician or the fucking president. No man should bring a woman down like that, leave her questioning herself because he wasn’t man enough to do his job properly.”
I don’t even realize we’ve stopped, nor do I notice that Freya is standing in front of me until her warm palm presses against my heaving chest.
“Shit,” I curse, as the warmth from her touch flows through me. “I’m sorry, I—” I cut myself off, not wanting to cover myword vomit with excuses. “I may have some skeletons hidden in my closet as well. Mine have just been shoved further back.”
“I’m hoping one day,he’llbe shoved so far back, he’ll just fall right out,” Freya laughs.
“I have a great therapist I can recommend.”
“Thanks, but I can’t afford anything like that. I have to use free services, like my mom and Casey.”
I’m about to speak when she suddenly steps away and continues walking.
“I want a soft, fluffy, cuddly one,” she says. It takes me a moment to catch up.
Dogs. Right.
“I want to be able to snuggle with it and enjoy stroking its soft fur.”
I nod as if I understand. A dog has never been on my radar. I’ve spent most of my life trying to figure out how to take care of myself; I don’t need to add anything or anyone to that.
“Top choices would probably be a retriever or a spaniel of some sort. Maybe a cockerpoo.”
I frown. “A what?”
“A cockerpoo. It’s a mix between a cocker spaniel and a poodle.”
“Of course it is,” I laugh.
