My hands fall to my lap. “Fuck.”
“Hey,” she says. “This isn’t your responsibility to shoulder. It’s not happening because of you and Max. It’s just bad timing, that’s all.”
I avert my gaze. “All on the week of your wedding.”
“It’s okay. I’m still getting married, and you’ll both still be by my side.” Her lips tip up in a small smile.
What if this isn’t resolved by then? I suck in my bottom lip, terrified that we’ll be standing next to April pretending everything is fine.
“Anna told me that Max loves you,” April says after a moment.
I swallow hard. “It doesn’t matter. He’s leaving.”
She studies me, tilting her head slightly. “And if he weren’t leaving?”
“That’s not the point,” I say, struggling to navigate the web of guilt and fear and want tightening inside me. “Anna needs me. I can’t… I won’t choose him over her.”
April sips her wine. “Gemma, this isn’t going to be easy to hear, but I need to say it.”
Our gazes lock. “I think you’re hiding behind Anna.”
“I’m not—”
“You are,” she cuts me off gently but firmly. “Don’t get me wrong—I know you care about her. But your feelings for Max frighten you, and I think you’re using Anna’s reaction as the perfect excuse to run away from him.”
Heat blooms across my chest. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” She leans forward. “Gem, how many chances have you walked away from at the first sign of real intimacy? How many men have you kept at a safe distance so they could never touch anything real?”
I stare at her, stunned that she’s bringing this up. “This has nothing to do with my dating history.”
“Every time someone gets close, you find a reason to push them away,” she utters.
I place my glass on the coffee table with a thud and stand abruptly. “If I wanted therapy, I would book a session,” I snap.
She raises her hands in surrender. “I’m not saying this to be mean. I’m not trying to psychoanalyze you,” she says, remaining calm. “I’m trying to be your friend. I want to be honest with you, hon. Which means I need to point out that you have a pattern.”
A tear spills free. “Which is what, exactly?”
“You run from anything real because real means risk. It means there’s a possibility of you getting hurt. And after Todd, you’d rather walk away first than give someone else the power to leave you. Someone hurt you, so this is how you’ve taken control.”
Her words spear me and my knees buckle. I drop to the sofa, burying my face in my hands.
She’s right. I flee at the first sign of vulnerability. I’ve been running from my feelings for so long that I’ve convinced myself it’s the only way to avoid getting hurt. Aside from my best friends, I never let anyone close enough to matter.
Max is different. He refuses to be pushed away. He’s seen all that I am and still wants me—not just my body—all of me. Ever since Todd rejected the intimacy I sought, I’ve been convinced I’m not worthy of love so I never allow it to be an option. But if I’m only desired, then I can’t be seen. I can’t be exposed. I can’t be disappointed or heartbroken.
I build walls and keep men at arm’s length because I need to hold all the cards, because giving someone else the power to hurt me feels like handing a stranger a loaded gun.
April scoots close, reaching for my hand and squeezing it once. “I’m sorry, hon. I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but I think you needed to.” Another squeeze. “I love yousomuch. And you deserve more. You deserve happiness, and I think you’ve found that with Max, if you give him a chance.”
“He sees me,” I whisper.
“Then let him,” she presses.
“What if I lose them both? It feels easier to sacrifice something I want than risk fighting for it and failing,” I say, finally voicing the fear that’s been haunting me since last Saturday.
“Anna’s processing her loss, Gem. And when people are in pain, everything feels like it’s falling apart—even when it isn’t.”
