The doctor recommended therapy to help me manage everything. I resisted going at first. Living in such a small town, I worried everyone would know I had these issues, that I would be labeled as “that girl.” But I also didn’t want to keep feeling that way. I wanted to get past it. Not just being taunted for who I was and what I loved, but for the way everything felt sort of… dangerous. All the time. The way I couldn’t trust my body not to betray me. The way it felt like there was no way to be safe.
Eventually, once I learned how to manage things in a healthy way, I found some semblance of a normal life. I decided I wouldn’t let those girls and their nasty words stop me. With hindsight and maturity, I came to see that people’s behavior is usually a reflection of how they feel aboutthemselves, and has little to do with others. I embraced my inner nerd and learned to love myself. I got a job, I had friends, and I had my board games and my books. I had a life.
Well, I’d thought I had. But after these two weeks with Luke, I can see very clearly that the life I’d created for myself was so safe, so insulated from the outside world, that it had become a sort of prison. I hadn’t even been aware that I was afraid—afraid of another panic attack, of all the things that could go wrong if I didn’t keep a tight grip of control over every aspect of my life. I had my books and games, but that was all I had.
And now, as Luke gazes at me with compassion, a realization starts to crystallize in my mind. In the past, I’d thought I wasn’t all that interested in men, but now I’m wondering if I was actively avoiding them. Those few times that Ididattempt anything, my inability to let go, to give up control, to be vulnerable, meant that nothing real ever developed. I was afraid to share my full self, scars and all, with anyone because I thought they’d think less of me for not always being able to keep it together. They never saw me at my worst—they never evenknewabout my worst—and I preferred it that way. Even Steph doesn’t know about my panic attacks.
But Luke has seen me worry, he’s seen me afraid, he’s seen me confront my fears, and he still wants me. It’s only been two weeks but it feels like he knows me better than anyone. That’s how I know it’s safe to share these things with him, too. I know he won’t run away.
“Wow,” Luke says, after I tell him everything. “That must have been so hard.”
“It was.” Tears prickle in my throat at the way he holds me tighter, and I take a controlled breath, waiting for them to pass. “Anyway. It was a long time ago, and I haven’t had a panic attack since, so… that’s good.”
“You’re such a brave, amazing woman, Harri. You know that?”
I give him an odd look. How on earth does that make me brave?
“Even after everything you went through in high school,” he continues, “you’re still this outgoing, adventurous person. You still do things most of us are too afraid to do. I mean, I’ve never been skydiving and I’m not sure I could. And what about the trapeze? You’re pretty much fearless.”
I swallow the frustrated groan threatening to rush from my mouth and close my eyes, unable to look at him. It’s true that I feel more like my alter ego than I ever have, and I know I’m not the same person I was when I stepped on that plane in New Zealand. I’ve surprised myself with the things I’ve done over here. But each of those victories was hard-won; I had to consciously work through my anxiety and push myself to do them. That’s a far cry from the thrill-seeking adrenaline junkie I’ve led him to believe I am. The only place I’ve naturally felt adventurous is in bed—and the plane, and the kitchen—with him. I’m still trying to figure out why I feel so free with him sexually. I think it started with the plane—the close proximity and unusual circumstances, and the fact that I thought I’d never see him again. I just totally let go, and I’ve been that way with him since.
I know I should come clean about Harriet 2.0, but I’m worried that telling him the truth might make him see me differently. He’s been so accepting of my anxious side, but that’s because healsothinks I’m brave and outgoing. Once he knows I don’t have a wild side, he’ll realize that my anxiety isn’t just a part of me—it’sallof me.
“I’m not fearless,” I say, glancing up at him. “You’refearless, Luke. You left a job to follow your dreams, even when your wife and father told you it was stupid. That was really brave. I admire you so much for that.”
He sighs, fiddling with a strand of my red hair. “No, I’m not brave. If I was, I would have told everyone about my divorce five months ago. Instead, I’ve been living a lie.”
My heart squeezes for him, and I press a kiss to his warm skin. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Sometimes it’s difficult to tell people the truth if you think it will make them look at you differently.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I just can’t stand the thought of Dad having yet another reason to be disappointed in me.”
“You really think he’ll be disappointed?”
Luke utters a bitter laugh. “My parents love Dena. They’re going to think I did something to drive her away, that it’s all my fault. I’ll be surprised if Dad even talks to me after this.”
I’m quiet, processing this. Surely he’s overreacting? Surely they could see their son was unhappy with her, and now, with me…
My thoughts grind to a halt. Because, of course, they won’t see him with me—and soon, I won’t be here with him anyway.
“But you will tell him?” I ask, and I find myself holding my breath as I wait for his reply.
“I’m going to have to eventually. She won’t play along forever.”
“Whyisshe going along with it?”
Luke grimaces. “I really hoped you weren’t going to ask me that.”
Dread crawls across my skin and I pull my hand away.
“We…” He scrubs a hand over his face, reluctantly meeting my gaze. “We have an arrangement.”
I inhale sharply as my stomach nosedives. If he’s still sleeping with her, I’m going to—
“God, no!” he exclaims, reading my face. “It’s just financial.”
“Oh.” My breath rushes out in a whoosh, followed by a laugh of relief. “Sorry. I thought maybe you and her were still…”
He reaches for me again, gathering me into his arms. “You really think I’d be here, doing these things with you, if I was still doing things with her?”
