"Yes, excuseyou. That man has gone so far above and beyond, taking care of you. He brings you to every appointment, and you have to shoo him away or he'd be here holding you up instead of letting you do the work. He packs you a lunch for your classes. He cooks for you. He did your laundry—including folding your unmentionables. Honey, I've been married for fifteen years, and I can't get my man to switch the damn laundry, never mind fold my panties. 'Too slinky,' he says." She pokes the air in front of my face. "That man is head over heels in love with you. If you're tellin' me you've got his fine ass in the friend-zone, I might have to go old school on your ass and smack the stupid right outta you."
Defensiveness seethes through me. "He'snotin the friend zone. Felix and I talked about this when I first moved in with him. I need time to focus on…" I waved a hand at the PT facility. "All this."
"He's runnin' a companyandseeing to your every need." She leans closer. "Please tell me you're at least helping the poor man out once in a while. If you know what I mean. Givin' him a little somethin'-somethin'."
"That would defeat the purpose, Connie," I say, hearing myself snap and hating it, even as I fail to stop it. "I care about him. I'm doing thisfor him. I recognize how much he's doing for me, trust me. I just…I need to feel whole before I can put myself into a serious relationship."
Connie shakes her head. "All that may have been true at one point, but I think now you're keeping him at arm's length for a different reason. I see the way he looks at you—like the sun rises and sets with you. When will you be whole? How will you know? When will you be ready to take that chance? How long is he supposed to wait?"
"It's been eight weeks, Connie, not eight months or eight years."
"When you're living in his house, being driven around, cooked for, provided for, and taken care of like a queen, eight weeks is an eternity to live with unrequited love."
"It's not unrequited!" I snap. "I requite it."
"Oh yeah?" she asks, doing the head tilt again. "Doesheknow that?"
"I thank him all the time."
"That's just manners."
"So I should thank him sexually—is that what you're saying?"
"It's not about sex, Ember. And it sure as hell ain’t transactional, so don’t gimme that shit, either.” She gets close and holds my gaze. "It's about opening up to him. Letting him in. Giving back to him."
I turn away, angry and guilty. "It's not that fucking easy."
"You needed time. I get that, and I'm sure he does, too. Iknowhe does, actually—because he's given it to you." She moves around in front of me. "This is me as your friend, honey. There's no good time. It's never gonna get easier or less scary. You gotta just…jump."
"I'm starting my life over, Connie," I whisper. "This is the longest I've ever beenanywhere in my whole life. I…I have friends. I'm going to school—in a building, for the first time ever. I'm relearning…it feels like everything.Everythingis different. It's scary. It's taking everything I've got to not run away. You know how many times I've woken up in the middle of the night wanting to get into Pumpkin and just drive away? Go back to the life I knew? But I haven't. I’m still here. And thatisme trying."
"Alright, alright, I hear you." She pats my cheek. "I just wonder if maybeheneeds to hear all that."
She's right. God, she'ssoright.
Someone calls Connie's name. She gives me a quick hug. "I gotta go, boo. I’ll see you Friday for our last session. But you think about what I said. Maybe it's time for you to take things to the next step with Felix."
"Wait—last session?"
She grins. "Yeah, baby, you're done!" And with that, she's gone, her track pants zip-zip-zipping as she hustles to greet her next victim—I mean, client.
Great. Now I'm cranky, sweaty, tired, sore, hungry…andfeeling guilty.
I snag a towel from my bag, top my water bottle off at the filling station, and exit the facility, dabbing at my face as I wait for Fee.
He's as punctual as ever, and this time his truck is dripping wet from the car wash, the gold paint sparkling. When I climb in—on my own, because I told him last week I needed to start doing it on my own—the interior has been vacuumed and detailed.
"Wow," I tell him. "Truck looks great!"
He grins, shrugging. "Gotta clean 'er up once in a while." He pulls away from the building and turns onto the street, heading for The Alt, where I'm meeting Noelle and Raina for lunch. “How was your session?"
I sigh a laugh. "Oh, y'know, brutal as usual. Single leg deadlifts, pistol squats, curtsy lunges."
"Last session on Friday."
"I know! Connie just said that. I'd forgotten. It feels…weird. Like, what do I do with myself without P-T three days a week?"
"Whatever you want?" he suggests. "Sleep in. Get a job. Go on a road trip."
