She has begged me to go to therapy. She started going to therapy in college, and I probably should have followed her lead. But when I turned thirty and came out of yet another failed relationship, I decided that maybe it was time to follow her advice.
“It was only the first appointment. I don’t have a lot to tell.”
“Tell me anyway,” she begged.
“We talked about why I was there, and yes, I only told her that I want to prove my exes wrong. It’s going to take me a bit to dig into my deeper issues, but I did write additional information in the intake form. I wasn’t ready to talk about it during our first session.” I was rambling on quickly, because the real reason I called Emma was to talk about the guy in the waiting room—Grant.
“I can understand that—you’ll be able to open up in time. I mean, it took us time to get through boy drama and be open with one another. Either way, I’m proud of you for taking the first step.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat because Emma really has been the best thing to ever happen to me. She had sat alongside me through everything with my mom, every one of my breakups, every time I went back when I shouldn’t have. She was there through it all with no judgment.
“Thanks, Em,” I said. My love for her continued to grow stronger. “I think I’ll get there in time. But the real excitement happened in the waiting room.”
“Why didn’t you say anything sooner? Spill!” she practically yelled.
I thought back to my brief encounter with Grant, still unable to get our two-minute interaction out of my head. “There was this guy…”
Emma interrupted, yelling again, “Shut up! You met someone?”
“Not exactly. He was coming out of the therapist’s office right before my appointment, and we both stared at each other—like we were instantly drawn to each other.”
“Was he hot?”
I rolled my eyes. How would I even describe him? Like, yes, he was hot with his bulging biceps and perfectly imperfect curly auburn hair, but he was also beautiful and charming. “We are in our thirties now, shouldn’t we care about more than just looks?”
“Sure, sure. But also, shouldn’tthe onebe someone you’re attracted to?” she asked, making light of the situation even though she knows it’s important to me.
Emma knows I’ve been settling in my relationships, because then I won’t have to let someone all the way in and really get to know me—the real me.Emma was able to break through my walls, and I craved that in a romantic relationship. I longed to have a family, even if it was non-conventional, since the probability of naturally conceiving was low. I wanted to feel safe alone in the house with a man again, without wondering for a moment if he was devoted.
“Okay, fine. Yes, he was the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on. But let me tell you the rest of the story when I get home—I’m five minutes away.” I hung up before she could respond.
As I drove the last few blocks home, I realized that even the thought of Grant quieted the noise in my head, and I wanted to sit alone in that feeling for a little while. I swore after my last disaster of a breakup that I wouldn’t even look at a man again. But Grant had an inviting and warm energy, and I wanted to figure out why or if my instincts were off.
I pulled into the driveway of our beautiful red and brown brick condo, complete with a security door and a gate surrounding the front of the house. The condo had become my sanctuary. As I walked in, I took the one required step into the living room. It was cozy with a comfy couch, plush pillows, fresh flowers on the coffee table, and a view that overlooked the backyard.
As I sat on the couch, I heard Emma come out of her room and rush down the hallway toward me.
“You can’t just leave me hanging like that,” she chastised.
“I’m sorry.” I laughed. “But I wanted to see your face when I told you all of the details. I might be reading too much into it, though.”
“Tell me everything,” she said, leaning in.
I let out a breath. “You should have seen how time ceased to exist the moment he walked into the room.”
She smiled widely. “So, he was hot.”
I rolled my eyes. “Something like that.”
“Did you say anything to each other?” she asked, enthused.
“I first stared at him like a lovesick teenager, but then he said I have a face he wouldn’t forget, like straight out of a movie.”
“You are literally living in a rom-com.”
“It’s not that deep. I probably won’t even see him again.” I looked away from her because that thought alone gave me a knot in my stomach.Why? I don’t even know him.
“You didn’t even get his number.” Emma pouts, giving me puppy eyes. “Or at least his full name so we could look him up on social media?” I honestly didn’t even think to ask because the interaction was over before it even really began.
