by Hayleigh Sol
Before I could argue that she was just as closed–off to the idea of a relationship as I was, Lisette waved a hand. “It’s true. Ever since Aaron, it’s like you’ve latched onto your anger over what he did to you. You use his actions, and your father’s, as justification for those walls, for keeping everyone at a distance. Except us, of course, because we’re awesome. Although, I suspect it has more to do with the fact that we don’t have dicks.”
She was right about their anatomy. I’d always been firmly pro–women in the battle of the sexes. Men couldn’t be trusted; they were the ones who cheated.
At least, that was what I’d believed before I learned of my mother’s infidelity.
“What’s wrong with having emotional boundaries? Or, walls, as you call them? I swear, this is just like everyone telling me how stubborn I am all the time. People only say that because I’m not doing what they think I should be doing. Not living my life the way they think I should.”
Yes, I was including my own best friends in my defiant “they”.
“Walls are meant to protect. If we didn’t have them around our homes and businesses, it’d be like inviting anyone in to steal or destroy the place. Look at Maya and what just went down with her ex. All because she trusted him enough to let him into her business.”
“She’s not wrong,” Holly said.
Knew I could count on Holls.
Simone sighed. “I don’t think we’re saying you should let some dude walk all over you, Bailey—not that that’s what happened with Maya, sorry babe—but there’s gotta be a balance between that and where we are now.”
“You know…” Maya paused, looking thoughtfully into the distance. “For a while there, I did let a lot of people walk all over me. I think I needed to get angry to kick Brad out of my life. And stand up for myself in other ways. I’m grateful he gave me reason enough to feel that furious. Temporarily.” Her eyes met mine. “Because, Bay, holding onto that anger…that would’ve been toxic.”
Nods of agreement went around the group. Lisette acknowledged that she often did her best work when she was pissed that someone had told her she couldn’t or shouldn’t do something. But she refused to give that person the satisfaction of knowing they’d had anything to do with her success.
Holly laughed and said her entire job was basically proving to the world that she could do any damn thing she wanted.
Emma had the determined gleam in her eye that she always got before a major tennis match. “Since you’re always so fond of dishing out the tough love, I’m going to give you some of your own medicine.”
Yippee.
“Maya needed to get mad at her ex to find her inner strength. So, yes, sometimes we need a little anger to light a fire under our asses. But holding onto your anger for years only makes you bitter.”
She sounded like my brother, which I told her, with only a modicum of sass.
“Well, maybe he’s seen in you what the rest of us are worried about.”
Ouch, that was…harsh, but fair.
“Damn, Em, I didn’t know you had it in you. Why don’t you ever stand up to your parents and sister like this?”
“We’re not talking about me right now, you intractable pain in my ass.” She closed her eyes and pinched the space between them. When they opened again, I saw the sheen of tears and felt like a dick.
“You have such a big heart, Bay. We all know and love you for it. Don’t let Aaron, or your dad, take that away from you. Don’t let the anger and the old hurt win.”
I told her that wasn’t what I was doing, but the words came out so softly that I doubted anyone on the call believed them. Including me.
“Listen, not all men are unfaithful bastards. Deep down, you know this. And, you know what else, my love? You’re strong enough to survive if it happens again. Yes, you might get hurt, but it won’t kill you.”
Simone chuckled, a soft smile on her face. “She’s right, Bay. If anyone is strong enough, it’s you.”
Emma sat back and huffed out a breath. She looked drained. “Alright, anyone have anything else to add?”
“I think we’ve done what we came to do here.” Lisette’s mouth tipped up as she, too, relaxed her posture.
As each of my best friends disconnected, they gave me their own words of encouragement and support. I felt a little better, mustering up a smile that attempted to match theirs.
Even Emma was finally smiling. “One last thing before I go. If you’ve found a great guy, you should give him a chance. A real one.”
Chapter 27
After crafting the best apology text to Tracie I was capable of, I sent it and crossed my fingers. I implored her to let me beg forgiveness in person and told her I had a wedding gift that both she and Noah would love. At this stage, I wasn’t above bribery.
Apologizing, admitting I had behaved badly or made a mistake, was never my favorite thing. But I wasn’t incapable of it like men were.
Crap. Was that a slice of the bitter fruit my friends were talking about?
When I could no longer handle the hopeful anxiety of checking my phone every five minutes for Tracie’s response, I changed into a pair of running pants. A relatively short drive later, I was at a state park that offered multiple trails for my much needed thinking jog as I crunched through the last of the fall leaves. We’d finally gotten some rain in the last few weeks, which helped the fall wildfire situation, and made Californians heave a collective sigh of relief. Until the mud slides started.
Skirting my way around patches of mud on the trail reminded me of the corn maze on Martha’s Vineyard, which, naturally, reminded me of Garrett. The weekend on the island I’d been like a previous version of myself, one I hadn’t been in a long time. With Garrett, I’d laughed and had fun like I usually did, but I’d held his hand and danced with him, too.
I’d told him about my biggest trauma, the shock of Aaron’s deceit that had stripped me raw, and I only would’ve done that if I trusted him to some degree.
But where did that leave us?
Nowhere, remember? You ended your “whatever” with him last night.
Was it bad to be doing air–quotes in your own head?
Emma and the girls thought I was in danger of becoming bitter. I’d always thought my prickliness was endearing, like that Maxine character from the greeting cards I used to love reading while Mom did her holiday shopping. She was a cantankerous older gal in a bathrobe, but her snark was hilarious, lovable even. Not ugly or cruel.
Had I changed from charmingly cranky to unpleasantly irascible?
I thought back to the summer, when Maya had been reunited with her old flame, Luka, and I’d warned her about getting in too deep with another man who seemed overly interested in “helping” her. In our group of friends, it seemed we all played one or more roles. Mine had always been the protector, the cynic who knew certain people in this world were nothing but bad news for those who were too open and trusting.
My worry for my best friend had come out as frustration. “I thought you were smarter than this,” I’d told her.
Thinking of it now made me cringe. I heard my mother’s voice through the years, insisting that her comments about my body and diet were only made because she cared and wanted what was best for me. But saying mean things and telling someone how to live their life wasn’t the kind of person I wanted to be.
And now I’d done that to Tracie. And Noah and Garrett.
Good job, Bay, you hit the trifecta of assholery.
Was there a way to protect the people I loved without being such a jerk about it? I was pretty sure I hadn’t always been this way. My friends would’ve staged their intervention long ago if I had been.
So what had changed? When had I veered into bitter land?
I passed a couple hiking the opposite direction on the trail and forced myself to relax the frown of deep thoughts from my face and give them a head nod and smile.
See, I can be nice.
<
br /> Trying to pinpoint where my general surliness had warped into nastiness wasn’t getting me anywhere. Aside from my father and Aaron—and my erroneous assumption about my brother being cut from the same cloth—there hadn’t been any major contributing incidents that explained how I’d gotten here. And those were ancient history.
Perhaps it was habit. I’d gotten so used to thinking and behaving a certain way that I’d fed into my own belief system, casually dating the type of guy who reinforced the idea that all men were players. In fact, I was pretty sure Maya had said something just like that in a previous phone call.
If that were true, I was no better than people who reposted their sociopolitical views without fact–checking first. Confirmation bias at its worst.
Was it possible that Noah truly wasn’t screwing around on Tracie? My stomach flipped at the memory of the way I’d accused him without real proof.
And why had I been so convinced Garrett would help hide his friend’s shady behavior, if there’d been any to hide, from his own sister? Just because some of the guys I’d thought had been as much my friends as Aaron’s had admitted after we’d broken up for good that they’d known about some of his indiscretions didn’t mean every guy was like that.
From what I’d learned about him, I didn’t really think Garrett would cover for a buddy who was cheating. Certainly not where his sister was concerned. Should I have gone to him with my suspicions about Noah? Would I have believed him if he’d told me I was imagining things?
With my brain working overtime, I hadn’t realized I’d picked up my pace until I dodged around a trio of walkers and nearly took one of them out with my elbow. Was I running from my problems or myself?
The path was littered with leaves slick from the recent rains. Just after I passed the surprised group, my foot slid on a wet leaf and rolled. I went down, the palms of my hands landing in the mud. Although I stood and brushed my hands off quickly, it was obvious—painfully and immediately—that I’d sprained my ankle.
Awesome. If Tracie and Noah did forgive me, I was gonna look like a doofus limping down the aisle.
After hobbling back to my car, I was despondent to find no reply to my text from Tracie. Honestly, though, it would serve me right to have spent the money on the maid–of–honor dress and have her boot me out of the wedding party. She probably wouldn’t even want me there as a guest.
If I was wrong about Noah, as was looking highly likely, how embarrassing was it going to be to face Tracie’s and Noah’s moms again?
Uggh, and Garrett.
Emma was right, I really had outdone myself this time. If his sister wasn’t speaking to me, Garrett wouldn’t want anything to do with me either. I wasn’t ready to deal with him right now anyway. Fixing things with Tracie was top priority.
At home, I cleaned up and iced my ankle while I put finishing touches on my wedding present for Trace. Trying to bolster my flagging spirits, I told myself I couldn’t have been completely set on sabotaging her happiness if I’d put this much effort into celebrating her marriage. There had even been times that I’d thought Noah was a cool dude, someone who could become a friend if I had to share Tracie with him. I really did want what was best for her, even if whatever that was didn’t look exactly the way I, in my infinite wisdom, thought it should. Hopefully, I’d get a chance to tell her that.
She made me wait three long days.
To be fair, she did eventually reply to my text on Sunday, but the message had been stiff. It was so unlike Tracie that I’d been convinced she was going to break up with me, that she’d tell me she didn’t want me as a friend anymore. When her next text came through days later, I felt like I let out the breath I’d been holding all week.
Tracie: Alright, I’m ready for you to grovel to my face. Maybe my feet. Better make it good, though.
With the wedding the following week, and the usual December madness closing in, we were both busy with work until the weekend. We met for cocktails at one of our usual spots and, despite being drained from the week, I was charged with nervous energy as I walked in and spotted her at a small table off to one side of the room.
Her eyes found mine and she matched my tentative smile with a slight one of her own, before she looked at my feet and frowned. “You’re limping. What happened?”
I huffed out a laugh as I settled into the chair across from hers. “Would you believe I was running so hard from my inner demons that I sprained my ankle? It’s actually a lot better than when it first happened.”
In fact, my ankle had improved so much in the past few days that I was surprised she’d detected my uneven gait at all. It was probably more obvious because I’d worn a pair of heeled booties I had no business wearing yet. I hadn’t been able to help myself, I’d wanted to look my best for my friend. And my groveling.
“Tracie, I am so sorry about last Saturday. About accusing Noah of cheating on you, about badgering you to check his phone and email like…I don’t know, someone you’re obviously not.” She regarded me patiently. “I really was trying to protect you from getting hurt, and”—this was the hardest part to admit aloud—“I think I saw what I wanted to, what I was expecting. But I know that’s my issue. I know I crossed a line.”
Her head tilted, lips twisting as she watched me. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her silent, or unsmiling, for such a lengthy stretch. Finally, she sighed and her expression relaxed. “I can’t fault you for looking out for me, Bailey; I even appreciate your…let’s call it, determination. It was the way you went about it that was hard to take.” A crease appeared between her brows. “Do you really hate Noah?”
I shook my head and assured her that I did not, in fact, have a single complaint against her fiancé. “So long as he keeps treating you right, we’re okay.” I smiled wryly. “Well, I’m sure he’s not my biggest fan at the moment—”
“Actually, it was his nagging that convinced me to talk to you. Both the Noahs in my life, as a matter of fact. I swear, when those two gang up on me, they’re nosier and bossier than my mother.”
Though I was surprised to hear either of them had advocated for me, I had to laugh as I pictured the two men annoying Tracie into doing anything. “I guess I owe them a thank you, in addition to an apology.”
Tracie’s eyes shifted down to the table and, when she raised them to mine again, I recognized her sly smile. “My brother mentioned you two were taking a breather at the moment. Is there a chance you’re reconsidering?”
He’d called it a “breather”? That could be a good sign.
Or he might’ve said that to appease his overly invested sis.
“I don’t know, Trace. I can’t honestly say that I’m the best bet for your brother.” She opened her mouth to defend me, which was sweet after the way I’d acted last weekend, but I held up a hand so I could finish my thought.
“Garrett is—I mean, he seems like—a really good person—”
“He is, Bailey. I swear he’s the best—”
I frowned teasingly at the interruption and she made a show of zipping her lips. “The thing is…I’m a work in progress.”
That was putting it mildly. I sighed and shook my head at myself. “I’ve been doing a helluva lot of soul–searching this week. And I think I want to ask him to give me another chance, but I can’t be certain I’m ready for what that would entail. He deserves to date a woman without any doubts or decades of trust issues.”
Her eyebrows raised, as if asking permission to unzip her lips. Not that she waited for it. “Sweetie, don’t you think it’s up to him to decide if he wants to take on the hot mess you are?”
A bark of laughter came out of me. “Gee, thanks for that.”
She shrugged and grinned. “You have to admit, when it comes to relationships with the opposite sex, you are kind of a hot mess. I love you, but it’s true.”
“Oh, no dispute here.”
I was
working on it, though. I’d called my brother, who was now officially engaged and sounded as giddy about getting married as any woman I’d ever heard of. It was nauseating—alright, adorably nauseating—to hear him talk about dates and venues and meetings with caterers. Which had only made me think about Garrett.
Over the last few days, I’d picked up my phone thousands of times to call him, or send a flirty text like we used to, but I’d chickened out every time. Whenever I thought about letting my guard down, the old self–protective instincts roared back.
It was like my disordered eating in college. If I wanted to change, if I wanted to avoid becoming the bitter, lonely shrew my brother and friends had lovingly warned me I was in danger of becoming, I’d have to actively work on shifting my thinking patterns. Habits and behaviors I’d had most of my adult life.
When I’d had that epiphany, it was quickly followed by the inspired idea to track down my old counselor. The internet was truly a wonder. I’d found her, and the practice she’d opened after completing her master’s degree, within thirty minutes of searching. She wasn’t close enough to make scheduling an appointment feasible, but I left a message, hoping for a referral to someone near me.
I got more than that.
“Bailey, hello, this is Dana Stewart. It was lovely to hear your message. How can I help?”
“Ha, have you got an hour?” It was a joke she probably heard all the time but, back in the day, I would laughingly tell her she’d never be able to fix my messed–up head in an hour.
She remembered, and her answer brought to mind her old familiar rebuttal. “As a matter of fact, I do. And any time we spend on ourselves is a good start.”
Aware that her own time was valuable and I wasn’t paying for her services—I’d had dozens of people over the years ask for fashion advice without scheduling an actual appointment—I gave Dana an overview of my current situation, telling her I’d recently realized I was stuck in a rut in terms of my views on men and relationships and I was hoping she could refer me to a colleague in the area.
