Once the full story got out—and we made sure it did because we don’t want this to happen to anyone else—people started coming out of the woodwork. Some of it was annoying, but for the most part, it was my friends letting me know that they’re here for me. Whatever I need.
Lacy came and spent three days with me—Landon went to his own apartment for those days so that she and I could have some girl time together—but then he came back and never left.
This morning we’re up early, having coffee on my balcony at six-thirty in the morning, watching the shore and listening to the waves.
“You sure about this?” Landon asks for the hundredth time.
“Yes.” It’s the same answer I’ve given him, my father, Daniil, Courtney, Rage, and even Metal.
I’m going to do what has to be done to officially end this chapter of my life.
“Babe, it’s not an easy thing to do. Trust me on that.”
“Nothing important is easy. Therapy is hard. Making decisions about our future has been hard. You wiring four hundred grand to Daniil for the business was hard. This is no different.”
“But it is. And it’s not something you can talk to your therapist about.”
“She knows,” I say softly. “Not in so many words, but she knows. We’ve talked around it and I think we’ve both made our peace with it.”
“You can’t undo it once it’s done.”
I give him an exasperated glare. “Babe. Iknowthat.”
“Why not let your dad handle it?”
“Because I can’t. This is between me and him.”
“All right.” He gets up and goes into the condo, disappearing into the bedroom.
I take the last sip of coffee and stare out at the water. It’s my favorite view. My happy place. The place where Landon and I are starting our lives together.
The last six weeks have been rough. I won’t deny that. Therapy was incredibly hard in the beginning because I didn’t want to be there. So, my therapist didn’t push. We just became friends. Our sessions were virtual—she’s based in Florida now—but she came highly recommended.
Her husband plays in the NHL, so she told me funny stories about their life. Her kids. Some of our mutual friends. Well, people either Landon has protected or is friends with, and people I’ve either met once or twice or have heard of. That’s how I found Tiffani, and eventually, those connections were part of how she got me to open up.
And when I did it was brutal.
So many tears. Ugly tears. Rage. Fear. Anxiety.
But then it started to abate.
We’re still working on parts of it but I’m feeling better.
The nightmares stopped once Landon started sleeping over.
I started driving again two weeks ago.
Things are looking up.
“Are you ready to go?” Landon asks an hour later.
“Yup.” I got dressed earlier, so all I need now are my keys and?—
“I have something for you.” He comes over holding a helmet. “I’d like you to ride on the bike with me.”
I hadn’t realized he’d come over with that last night after work.
We’ve talked about the motorcycle and I want him to have it. It’s a beautiful piece of machinery. It doesn’t represent anything but a gift of opportunity. My father already owns seven motorcycles—eight if you count my mother’s, that’s in the garage of their house. He never touches it. So, he truly doesn’t need another one and Landon loves it.
