“This is a lot to give up for maybe.”
“It’s a sacrifice, yes,” he agrees. “And I hate asking you to make it. But I’m willing to, if it means I might have a chance to have a great job with a great company in the city where my amazing girlfriend is moving.”
My heart wars with my brain, logic and emotions clawing and hissing over who’s right and who’s wrong. In the end, it’s confusion who wins, and I slump even more.
“I’ll see you at Christmas,” he adds when I don’t respond. “That’s just one more month.”
My mouth tugs to the side. That is true, but it doesn’t change the fact that my Thanksgiving plans have been blown to smithereens.
And that he’s going to some other girl’s house for a holiday.
“Trust me,” he begs after another long silence, as if he can hear my thoughts shredding me apart. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”
And I know he’s right.
I know he’d never hurt me.
I nod even though he can’t see me, and then let out a long, slow sigh. “I trust you.”
We talk for a little while longer, and eventually, the tears dry up and I’m laughing and aching with how much I miss him. We end the call with a million I love you’s and I feel half-assured that everything really will be okay in the end.
The other half of me feels like a woman unhinged, like I’m teetering on the edge of a dangerous cliff.
I flop back on the bed, eyes losing focus as I stare up at the ceiling.
And then, I grab my phone and group text the girls.
Change of plans. Got room for one more?
MY NAILS ARE DUG so deep into my palms, I’m about to draw blood.
These balled-up fists are all that’s saving me from trashing Erin’s room and this whole damn condo as she calmly, casually packs her bag for her girls’ trip.
I’m not mad about the girls’ trip. No, I’m happy for her. I’m happy she’s getting away. I’m happy she can take a break from the trial and school and therapy. I’m happy for Ashlei, too — for her and Brandon and the whole celebration.
What I’m not happy about is the text that came through Erin’s phone on our way home from her parents this morning, having had a very pleasant Thanksgiving dinner last night.
Hey, any word from lawyer?
From Gavin.
My jaw clenches so tight it gives me a headache as I remember those words flittering on her phone screen in the console between us as she drove, his name in bold letters above it.
It’d been all I could do to wait until we got home to discuss it.
“I’m not hanging out with him outside of therapy,” Erin repeats as she folds another swimsuit and tucks it into her bag. “He’s asked, but I’ve said no every time.”
“But he’s back,” I say as calmly as I can. “He’s back and you didn’t tell me. He’s back and you’re friendly with each other. He’s back and he’s texting you.”
Erin sighs, pausing with her hands in her bag as her eyes meet mine. “Are we really doing this?”
“Hell fucking yes, we’re doing this. Why did you keep it from me?”
“I didn’t keep it from you. I planned on telling you by inviting Gavin over for dinner. With both of us. So you could see that while he’s back, he’s nothing to me.”
“If he’s nothing to you, then why are you talking to him at all?”
She frowns. “Okay, maybe not nothing.”
My blood boils, but before I can scream, Erin holds up her hands.
“He’s nothing like that — romantic or anything past a friend. Okay? I just…” She bites her lip, eyes focusing on something across the room. “I don’t expect you to understand this, but Gavin is important to me. He’s important to my recovery.” Her eyes meet mine then. “He’s part of the closure I’m seeking, as well as a very important part of my entire healing process. He was there for me, Bear. He was there when no one else was.”
That makes me growl, and Erin shakes her head.
“You can be upset if you want to, but you weren’t talking to me. You were pissed off and dating someone else and,” she adds, pointing at me. “I’m not mad at you for that. I don’t blame you. You had every right to be upset with me, and to be in love with another woman. But similarly, I had the right to be with another man, and to lean on him when I had no one else.”
I’m breathing like a bull now, nostrils flaring as I try to see her side, try to calm myself.
But I simply can’t.
“This is all bullshit,” I spit. “Gavin, therapy, all of it. He wasn’t part of your healing, Erin. He was part of the problem.”