Page 45 of Love Rewritten

Abby

I’dalmostforgottenaboutthe flowers Dallas had waiting for me when we got home from the park two nights ago. I don’t know if it’s a coincidence or if he knew, but he didn’t get me roses. I’m immensely grateful for that. The pink peonies have fully opened now. They’re gorgeous. But something has been festering in the back of my mind like pressing on an old bruise, and I couldn’t place it until a few minutes ago.

All those roses Sam had gotten me after our big fights always ended up strewn across the room, glass vases with them. I can only think of one time when the flowers made it to the point of wilting, and I got to throw them away and put the vase in the cupboard like a normal person. Something that should be such a simple, cute gesture has turned into a mind fuck. I pull one out of the white, hourglass vase, running my fingertips across the soft petals before smelling it. The scent fills my nose with a delightful aroma. I’ve never had a favorite flower, but I could see myself choosing peonies if I were ever asked.

I’m not sure where the instinct comes from, but I start plucking the petals off one by one.He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not.The last petal makes my heart jump.He loves me.It’s the opposite result I got from the rose I picked apart with Sam. I need this win today.

Dallas walks out of the bathroom after his shower, stuffing his arms through his navy blue button-down shirt. He looks curiously at the petals covering the counter. “What are we doing with the petals?”

“Oh, um, sorry. I’ll clean it up.” I frantically get up and pull the garbage out from the cabinet under the sink.

“Woah, you’re okay. I was just curious.”

I slow myself down. “Right. Sorry.”

“I’m still curious what you were doing.” He leans his elbows on the counter once his shirt is fully buttoned and he’s folded the collar down. he picks up a petal and smells it.

I sweep the petals into the garbage with my forearm, letting Dallas toss the one he picked up in as well and return it to its place under the sink. “I uh … it’s stupid.”

“Whatever it is, it’s not stupid. I promise not to laugh.”

I shoot him a leery eye but he holds his fist out to me, pinky finger extended just as he had a couple nights ago. I hesitate another moment before wrapping my pinky around his. “You know that thing people do where they say ‘He loves me. He loves me not?’” He nods, waiting for me to continue. “Well, that’s what I was doing.” I avert my eyes, not wanting to see if he’s holding back laughter.

“And? What were the results? Do I love you or not? Because if it ended in anything other than ‘He loves me,’ we’re playing again until we find one that gives us that answer.”

I look up, and the small joke makes me smile. “It did.” My heart warms at his almost admission of love, but it scares me all the same.

"Good." Our eyes are glued to each other for a minute before Dallas pushes off the counter and looks at the clock. “Are you ready?”

That’s a loaded question. “Not at all.”

I’ve been ready for almost two hours. I was trying to distract myself. I fixed my hair twice, redrew my eyeliner four times, and changed outfits probably close to ten times only to end up putting on the first outfit again. When I didn’t have any more getting ready to do, I forced myself to sit down and write. What? I didn’t know. But I got some words on the page before I could process what I was writing. I didn’t let myself reread it.

Waking up this morning brought with it a scary realization that I might see Sam for the first time since he sent me to the hospital—as long as he shows up—and as long as I can get myself to join Trisha in the courtroom. I’ve been ignoring the idea since Trisha gave us the first date for court. I haven’t let myself think about it, consider the thought that I’d be seeing him. And now, knowing just how soon that is, I’m trying to force the thought down, so I don’t lose control of my mind, my body. I can’t have a panic attack right now. It would derail the wall I’ve fought so hard to build. I refuse to ruin that.

I round the counter, smooth out my black slacks, and re-tuck my white shirt into the back where it came loose. I slip on the black blazer I borrowed from Rose. I hadn’t realized how close in size we were until Dallas suggested it when I was panicking about not having anything to wear. Rose had given me a few options of colors but the only color that seems fitting for the situation is black, like a funeral.

The steps up to the courthouse seem so much longer today than they have every other time I’ve been here. They take more energy to scale than the last time. I’m not out of breath, but I can’t seem to breathe regularly.

Trisha is having us meet early in a conference room to discuss a few things, and it’ll give me some time to relax before we go in. Her words. Not mine. Relaxing seems like a foreign concept with today’s events.

This is a smaller conference room than any we’ve been in before, and it feels a bit suffocating to sit here and wait. Dallas sits next to me, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. I can’t tell if he’s just that chill about everything or if he might be trying to distract himself as well. If it’s the latter, I won’t be the one to pull his attention away.

I stare at the wall ahead while we wait for Trisha to arrive. A large abstract painting hangs above a skinny table placed against the wall. It’s far too cheery and upbeat for what’s about to happen. The pinks and reds swirl together like ink in water. Or blood. And the faint memory of it pooling at the back of my head shivers down my spine.

I shake my head, ridding myself of the thought. Dallas looks up at my movements but doesn’t say anything. He sets his phone down and offers his hand as Trisha walks through the door.

She greets us with a smile. “Good morning.” Her black business suit somehow looks even more formal than her usual attire, though I suppose that’s fitting for a day in court. She hugs Dallas before taking a seat next to me.

She folds her hands in her lap and turns her chair toward me. “How are we feeling right now?”

The question almost makes me laugh. How else would I be feeling other than internally screaming in a moment like this? And it’ll likely only get worse once we make our way into the courtroom. Whether I’m trying to prevent myself from screaming or bursting out in laughter, I’m not sure. I hold my breath for a moment. “We’re here.”

It’s the only honest answer I can give her without setting off all the alarm bells in everyone's heads. If I gave her any other answer, they might think I’m about to make a run for it, go back home, hide under the covers, and never come out. Or they might think I’m actually as unstable as I feel.

“You are. And I think that’s a respectable answer.” She sounds authentic when she speaks. I don’t detect any hostility. So, I smile and wait for her to continue with whatever we need to go over ahead of time. She grabs her binder from the table and flips it open. A few loose documents sit in a sleeve protector, and she pulls them out. “So, I just want to give you a rundown of how today will go so you know what to expect. I’ll put this all in as plain of English as I can to make it easier to understand because I know how complicated legal speak can be for someone who’s not used to it.”

I nod and scoot my chair a little closer to the table.

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