The spark. The electricity. The all-consuming yearning.”
“Despite what you think you know about me, I’m not lying when I say I’m still sorting out my shit.”
“Jesus Christ, Londyn.” Throwing up her hands, she jumps to her feet. “Haven’t you figured it out by now? We’re all sorting out our shit. There is not one person walking this earth who has their shit together. I don’t know what happened to make you think you needed to achieve some sort of idyllic level of perfection before you allowed yourself to be with someone else, but if you wait for that, you’re going to be waiting for the rest of your life.”
“I’m not waiting for perfection. I’m just trying to not be as broken.”
“You are not broken.” She rushes back to the couch, her eyes awash with sincerity and empathy as she grips my biceps. “You need to stop letting what happened to you dictate the rest of your life. It sucks. I get it. And I can’t even imagine what it must have felt like for your own father and husband to dismiss your claims as lies. But that doesn’t mean everyone else is going to toss you out, too. Anyone worth your time will love every part of you. Even the fractured bits. The flawed bits. The dark bits. Because I’ll tell you something… Those dark pieces of your soul that you think make you broken and unlovable? That’s what’s given you the strength to be where you are today. Be who you are today.”
I swallow hard, unsure how to respond to Hazel’s passionate plea. She’s always been the one voice of reason in my life. I’m not sure I’m ready to take the last leap of faith I need, knowing how debilitating the fall can be when it doesn’t work out.
“Tell me what’s really holding you back, Lo.”
“This thing with Wes is scary,” I admit softly. “Petrifying.”
“Now that I can work with.”
She drops her hold on me, settling back into the couch. “Tell Dr. Garcia,” she mimics in a horrific German accent, making me laugh. “What scares you about the prospect of forming a relationship with Weston?”
I throw a pillow at her. “I can’t take you seriously when you talk like that.”
“Fine.” Huffing, she flashes me a smile. “What scares you about this?” she asks in her normal voice.
“Falling and him not being there when I hit bottom. When I need him the most.”
“And I understand that. But let me ask you something. You told him everything that happened with Jay and your ex, and he didn’t run for the hills. Did he?”
“No. Just the opposite.”
“And these past few months, you’ve spent a lot of time with Wes, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And not just at the house during renovations. You’ve done other things, too, correct?”
“Yes.”
“What kinds of things?”
I open my mouth to respond, then pause. “I don’t see how this is relevant, Haze.”
“Trust me. Tell me what things you two do when you get together outside of the house.”
“Well, we’ve gone to the movies. Had dinner, both out and sometimes at his place. Gone to art galleries. You know. Normal stuff.”
“Normal couple stuff.”
I vehemently shake my head. “No. Normal friend stuff. Couples kiss and have sex. We don’t.”
“A relationship is more than just sex, Lo. It’s sharing pieces of yourself. Letting the other person see the darkest parts of your soul, hoping they stand by your side while you search for the light. Sex is merely the icing on the cake. It’s not the entire relationship. Hell, there are still some people who prefer not to have sex until they’re married. Although I’m not one to buy a car without test driving it first, you can’t say their relationship is any less valid because they choose to wait. Hell, do you really think people still have sex when they’re ninety? I sure don’t. But does that mean they’re no longer in a relationship? Does that mean they no longer love each other?”
“What are you saying?” I ask hesitantly, unsure I’m ready to hear the answer I fear I’ve known all along but was happy to ignore.
She squeezes my hands, her eyes focused intently on mine. “I’m saying you and Wes are in a relationship. You just refuse to admit it.”
“I don’t—”
She holds up her hand, cutting me off. “Who helped you get over your fear of heights?”
I look away. “Wes,” I mumble.
“And who comforted you after a snake almost killed you, according to you?”