I haven’t been honest with Troy, and I haven’t been honest with myself. I was too busy pushing Olivia toward him to see it. Olivia. Nova. Amelia. I’ve been constantly hiding behind them. Constantly using them as a shield.
“Do you think…do you think I’ve been using Amelia and Nova and my fear of having a family as an excuse for not letting Troy fully into my heart? Because I feel unworthy of his love? And that’s why I couldn’t tell him I love him?”
“I think you might be on to something.” A pleased smile quirks her mouth. “You seem to be constantly focused on making sure everyone else has a better life—like Violet and Sophie, Amelia and Troy—you tend to ignore your own needs.
“Do you remember what we discussed about Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs? To reach the higher levels of esteem, recognition, and self-actualization, your lower-level needs must be met first. And that includes love and belonging.”
I nod. I do remember that. For now, my physical and safety needs are met, and I have friends, but I haven’t allowed myself to fully love…because I let Wayne and the protesters and anyone else who thought I wasn’t good enough…I allowed them to manipulate me into believing deep down they were right.
Maybe that hadn’t been everyone’s goal, but I still let them have that power over me.
I had let my late husband’s mind games win.
I release a slow breath through my nose. “Too bad I hadn’t figured this all out sooner.” Before I broke up with Troy. It would have saved me a lot of heartache.
“It could be now that you’re on the antidepressant, you’re able to see things clearer. Your depression and anxiety fed into your misguided view of yourself. It became an endless cycle that was hard to break from.”
That makes sense. “Alright,” I say, feeling somewhat better, but no less brokenhearted. “I’ll do better in opening my heart to another man. In the future. But it’s too late with Troy. He’s now with Olivia and Nova.”
Robyn’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “I’m usually not in the business of reporting on gossip, but I saw them at the festival last weekend, and it looked like Olivia is with Lance Reid.”
She is? I mean, I know Lance is really into her. That much was obvious the day I interviewed her for the PTSD article and he came over to her house. But I had no idea they were seeing each other.
“It’s still too late,” I point out. “Troy doesn’t want to take a risk with me again. I have a bad habit of breaking his heart.” I grimace at how often I’ve done that, believing each time I was doing the right thing. For Violet and Sophie. For Troy and Olivia and Nova.
“Only you can decide what you want to do, Jess. But it wouldn’t hurt to be honest with him and tell him what you’ve told me. That would be a start.”
Be honest. I can do that. The question is, will Troy give a damn about what I have to say?
Or has my emotional breakthrough come far too late?
62
JESSICA
October, Present Day
Maple Ridge
I rereadthe email Garrett sent me yesterday, my butt sinking comfortably into my couch.
Jess,
I just read the first chapter of your story. I can’t wait to read the rest of the book. If it’s anything like what I’ve read so far, I’m sure my agent will want to see it. She also represents historical fiction. Looking forward to reading the rest of it once I return this weekend.
Garrett
The Warriors group left this morning, which means I can’t try to talk to Troy for a few more days. And now I have to survive however long it takes Garrett to read the book before I can breathe again. Anne loved it, but it’s Garrett’s feedback I’m most eager and anxious for.
His agent?Oh, God. I can’t believe he thinks she might be interested in the book. That would be incredible.
Please let them both love the story like Anne did.
My gaze shifts to the floral box on the coffee table, with the Morse-coded messages inside. Do I dare reread them? Do I dare read how Troy once felt about me until I wrecked everything between us?
I trace over the flowers on the lid and pause when my finger touches a pink blossom. You can do this. I open the box and randomly pull out some of the pieces of paper.
I read through them, my aching heart pounding hard at his sweet and funny and sexy words. Yesterday was the one-month anniversary of the date I ended things with him.
