“Of course it’s not,” she said.
I rested my head in my hand. “Okay.Thankyou. No one else agreed with me. Ben definitely didn’t.”
“You also need trust and forgiveness.”
I waved a hand. “Whatever. He’s forgiven, I guess. He made a few mistakes. He was competitive. I can relate to that. But I don’t know howanyonereally trusts anyone else these days. Seems very dicey.”
To my surprise, Annie shoved my shoulder, and I fell over. “Hey! What was that for?”
“Not Ben, doofus.You.You have to forgiveyourself. And trust yourself.”
“Maybe I should just marry myself while I’m at it,” I grumbled.
Annie tapped my nose. “That’s the spirit.”
I stayed on my back, scoffing at the ceiling. “No offense, but you sound ridiculous. Like you’re one second away from trying to sell me mood-altering crystals. And we both know what I do with those.”
“Try out this story,” she said. “Your dad cheated on your mom and left, and you felt like he betrayed you. Proved you weren’t worth sticking around for. Then your first boyfriend did the same thing, then your next important relationship, too.”
She was talking about the Four Major Heartbreaks. I’d never told her that’s what I called them, or that I even thought of the relationships that way. But apparently, Annie was secretly clairvoyant.
“Over time,” she said, “you became convinced you were fundamentally worth leaving, and that when it inevitably happened, you would fall apart. That’s a lot of anticipated pain, and your brain is literally hardwired to avoid it. It’s natural you’d come up with some crutches to protect yourself. Think about it. Your desire to avoid relationships has never been about other people. It’s always been aboutyou, at your core, not believing you’re worth loving, and not trusting yourself to be okay no matter what happens.”
Annie rolled over and snuggled next to me. At first, I was too shell-shocked by her words to respond. But after a minute—and after spitting out a mouthful of her hair that had floated onto my face—I wrapped an arm around her.
“You...might be right. A little bit.”
“Zoey could have a change of heart tomorrow and walk away from our engagement. You never know. I have to trust I’m going to take care of myself if that happened. That I’d be okay. You have to, too. That’s the only way to really be in control.”
We lay in silence. Outside my door, I could hear Mac start singing “O Holy Night,” and my mom jumping in to harmonize. They were the only two people I knew who shared the delusion they had the vocal chops to pull off the high notes. I smiled to myself.
“Yes,” I said to Annie. “Is my answer to your wedding question. In case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t,” she said. “You’re really quite legible, you know. From the outside looking in.”
I dropped my chin to rest on her head. “This is unfair. When did you get so smart? Was it grad school? I didn’t get this smart in grad school.”
I couldn’t see her smile, but I could feel it. “A little bit from grad school, a little bit from almost marrying the wrong person because I was too afraid to deal with my shit.” She sighed happily. “What a day for me. Ifinallycounseled Lee Stone. My white whale.” There was a beat of silence. “That’ll be five hundred dollars, by the way.”
25
Let the Free Press Die
I wore all black to the Green Machine’s funeral. Otherwise known as the “Wrap Meeting on SB 3,” according to my Outlook calendar. We were seated in the small conference room in the Texas State Capitol, the same room where I’d met Ben for the first time, after five years apart.
How ironic. Just like that first meeting, today Ben was doing his best to avoid looking at me. He wore one of his sober navy suits and leaned practically all the way out of his chair, body twisted away from the table, tapping his leg. The message couldn’t be clearer:The last place I want to be is in the same room with you.
Which made sense, given what I’d said to him the last time we spoke. It occurred to me that Ben had tried to get close to me three times now, and three times I’d rejected him. In fairy tales, three was a magic number. Maybe after trying three times, Ben had been released from the curse of loving me.
I couldn’t deny how much I ached looking at him. How much the thought of him moving on squeezed my heart. If Annie was right, and the issues keeping us apart were really ones I had with myself, what had I allowed myself to lose? It had been all I could think about the rest of the holidays, especially during the uncharacteristically chill, alcohol-free New Year’s Eve I’d spent googlinggrowing up for dummiesand then, guiltily,Clark Kent shirtless gifs.
“All right,” said the governor brusquely, typing on his phone. He and Dakota were sitting on opposite ends of the conference table. “Let’s make this brief. We’re here to close the loop on the bill. Dakota?” He said her name sharply, with zero inflection. Interesting.
“The senators have accepted my donations.” Dakota nodded at Wendy. “We’ve had conversations with each of them, and we’ll have their support when the bill hits the floor next week.”
“Great,” said Governor Mane, setting down his phone. For the first time, he flicked a look at her. “So that’s it, right? We won.”
She nodded stiffly, then turned to me. “Lee, Ben—do you have any thoughts you want to share?”
