Page 61 of Like First Love, Again

Mia returned her hairbrush to her travel bag after pulling up her freshly dyed red hair in a tight ponytail. In two days, she and Eric would be standing in front of a judge. According to Eric’s lawyer, the official severing of marital bonds would be quick and perfunctory. What started with the excitement of a huge celebration was ending with an all but silent sizzle.

Mia slid on her fall boots and grabbed her coat from the rack. She wasn’t sad, exactly. It was more like getting to the end of a story and knowing that for years, she’d think about thecharacters and miss having been on their journey. But there was just no more of that story to tell.

Outside, the mid-November morning was bright but cold. All the trees had lost their leaves early like they couldn’t wait to draw themselves in and go dormant. Like they wanted to hurry and tuck in so they could try again in the spring.

On her regular drive to Marigold’s office, Mia absorbed the gray beauty of a place she’d loved once. By the time she arrived for her appointment, all she could think about was how ready she was to be home.

“Endings are heavy.” Marigold leaned back in her chair, her energy positive and encouraging, like always. “But there is no other way to make space for a beginning.”

Mia nodded, the topic she’d been wanting to address bubbling up in her chest. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what comes next,” she said, picking at her chipped manicure. “And not just the move. Or the divorce. But the bigger stuff.”

Marigold waited patiently for Mia to go on.

“About me,” she continued, wishing Marigold would put her out of her misery and name the unease spreading in her belly. “And Tori,” she added. “And what it means that I feel this way about her. And does it say something about my relationship with Eric? Does it invalidate it?” Mia’s picking drifted to her cuticles.

“Can you identify the emotion you’re feeling right now?” Marigold asked, catching Mia before she dropped into the spiral.

Taking a deep breath the way they’d practiced, Mia rested her hands on her knees. She felt the denim of her pants and inhaled the scent of lavender from Marigold’s aromatherapy mister. She counted to twenty before trying to untangle the mess enough to pull a single thread.

“I’m scared,” she admitted before meeting Marigold’s gaze again. “Not of the feelings. That part I trust. I trust how I feel about her.”

“Then what are you scared of?”

“What aren’t I scared of?” she replied with an unamused laugh. “That I’ll be terrible at it,” she said. “That I won’t know how to touch her. That I’ll mess it up because I don’t know what I’m doing and she’ll feel it. That I’ll disappoint her.” She swallowed hard. “Tori has to be building these expectations.” She shook her head. “After all this time, you know? And my body doesn’t look how it did fifteen years ago. And I want to live up to what she wants.”

Marigold tilted her head. “Have you tried talking to her about it?”

“No,” she said as if it should be obvious.

“Why?”

“Because what if she thinks I’m experimenting?” She furrowed her brow. “Like she’s a phase or a reaction to everything.”

“Is that what she is to you?” Marigold’s tone signaled that she knew the answer.

“No,” Mia replied without hesitation. “God, no.” She looked out the window, where a single yellow leaf was still clinging to a branch. Holding on, even though everything around it had already let go. “I’m so out of my depth. She even kisses like a porn star, and I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m going to disappoint?—”

“How did you feel before you were intimate with a male partner the first time?”

Mia paused and caught her breath. She went to prom night. Then to college, the next time she’d slept with someone. It had taken a few months with Eric before she did more than lie there like a starfish. But once she’d gotten comfortable, she’d turned into a very competent sex partner, if she did say so herself. But that was different. She was equally matched then with peoplewho were equally as inexperienced. Tori was definitely not a bumbling newbie.

“Is escalating your physical intimacy with Tori your only concern?” Marigold asked when Mia had been quiet too long.

Mia deflated, crumpling to one side and putting her head on the armrest. “No,” she admitted quietly. “I’m afraid that I’m—can I be blunt?”

Marigold nodded.

“I’m terrified that I’m going to fuck this up.” She let loose all the worries that had been tormenting her. “That no matter how hard I try, I’m going to make a wrong move and hurt Tori. That she’s going to realize she’s too good for me. What if somethingiswrong with me?” Fear was a vice around Mia’s heart. “What if I can’t make relationships work? What if I’m the problem?”

“Well, you’re right,” Marigold said with a heavy sigh.

Mia shot up in her seat, waiting for her therapist to render the verdict she deserved. To hear that she was unfit for anyone as good as Tori.

“You can’t make relationships work,” Marigold agreed a beat before she gave Mia a little smile. “You’re not driving a car.” She cocked her head to the side, expression gentle. “Relationships require two people. Mia, you can’t do anything single-handedly here.”

“But what if I mess it up?”

“Youwillmess up. Because you’re human.” Marigold leaned forward, holding Mia in her warm gaze. “The goal isn’t to be perfect,” she continued. “It’s to be honest. To stay present. To let her see you—even when you don’t have all the answers. Even when you’re scared.”

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