Page 47 of She Was Made for Me

“Uh-huh.” I toss the ball to Rich, hoping that’s the end of this conversation, but instead of serving, he holds the ball and studies me.

“Everything okay? You seem preoccupied. You were like this at lunch the other week, too.”

I twirl my racket, considering how to answer. I really don’t want to lie to him, but it’s not like I can tell him what’s on my mind.

“Would it help to talk?” he asks gently, and guilt swamps me. I’m instantly transported back to four years ago, to the way Rich was there as my life crumbled around me.

It started with what I thought was a heart attack: chest pains, shortness of breath, palpitations, dizziness—all the usual signs. I was admitted to the hospital and run through every test they could think of, only to turn up nothing. I went home feeling stupid, and quite frankly, terrified. They said it was nothing, but it wasn’t nothing. I’d felt something. Something I didn’t understand.

It happened again a week later, in the middle of court, and Rich took over for me without a word. I saw a different doctor this time, a woman who suggested I was having panic attacks.

I thought she was joking. “I don’t panic,” I’d said.

But once she’d explained what a panic attack was, how it felt, and how it could seemingly come out of nowhere, I knew she was right. I was at the top of my career, about to be made partner, and I was having panic attacks.

It was humiliating, to say the least.

So I did what I’d always done and put my nose down, ignored the problem, and vowed to work harder. It didn’t hurt that Lisa, my girlfriend of five years, supported this approach, and it wasn’t long until I was back to being on top of the world, handling the stresses of my job like a pro.

But here’s the thing about the body, it has an intelligence the mind does not. It knows when it can’t handle any more, even when the mind wants to push it past all reasonable limits.

And it tells you when it’s had enough.

While I could hold it together at work, the panic attacks started happening in the middle of the night. I’d wake up in a cold sweat, my heart racing, struggling for breath. At first Lisa was concerned, holding my hand and helping me through them, but she grew tired of it and started sleeping in the spare room. I figured it was a phase, and reasoned that as long as they didn’t happen at the office or in court, it was fine. But soon they happened all the time, any time, and I could never be prepared.

It was Rich who talked me into going to a therapist. He found someone and took me to my first session, waiting outside while I told a stranger what was happening to me, and how I couldn’t understand why.

It was Rich who suggested I lighten my workload at the firm. When that didn’t help, it was his suggestion for me to take some time away from work, from the city. And when Lisa kicked me out…

Anyway. If it hadn’t been for Rich and Diana’s kindness, their care and concern, I don’t know what I would have done.

And now here I am, fantasizing about their daughter like some kind of depraved creep. Rich has been the best possible friend I could ask for, and how am I repaying him? By betraying his trust. It doesn’t matter that I haven’tactedon my feelings for Violet, having them in the first place is enough of a betrayal.

I need to remember what matters most here, and it’s not getting my dick wet.

I shake my head. “No, I don’t need to talk about it, but thanks. It’s just… something at the house. But I’ll sort it out.” It’s not the full truth, but it’s not a lie, either.

Rich nods, accepting this. “That reminds me. How did it go with the realtor? I never heard.”

It occurs to me then that neither did I.

I scrub a hand across my beard, trying not to scowl at the thought of Owen coming onto Violet in front of me. My grip tightens on my racket when I remember that he thought I was her father.As if.

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to check with Vi,” I say carefully. “Maybe he contacted her.”

He’d better fucking not have, I think, against all better judgment.

Rich nods again and returns to the game, serving the ball. For the next hour, I whack the shit out of that ball, pretending it’s not Owen’s face I’d rather be hitting.

19

Violet

“Morning, gorgeous.” I glance up from my laptop to find Sadie grinning at me from the doorway.

“Oh! Hey.” I push my laptop away and stand from my desk, stretching. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I knocked, but there was no answer.” She sweeps her red curls over one shoulder as she enters the room. “The door was unlocked so I let myself in. I hope that’s okay.”

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