Page 163 of Push

“How’s that going?” she asked.

“Good… I think. I’ve had two appointments now. Paula’s great to talk to. She lets me vent, but she also challenges my thinking. She says stuff like, ‘Let’s gather more data’ and ‘Talk me through the evidence you have to think that way.’ I seriously love that. I swear, though… She gave me homework at the end of my last session that I’ll have to talk to her about next week.”

Marnie’s nose wrinkled. “Homework?” I was glad she was as outraged as I’d been.

“Yeah, it’s a listening exercise about leaves floating down a river.” I punctuated my words with wavy jazz hands. “My problems, they’re like leaves… And I can notice them… acknowledge them… be curious… but I need to let them be… so they can float away along the river.”

Marnie snorted. “Sounds like your yoga shit.”

Clearly, I was never going to convert Marnie to yoga. I laughed. “Give me yoga any day,” I said. “But after being married to someone like Toby, all I could think was, honey, if my problems are leaves, I’m sending my man into that river with all the shit he’s bought from the hardware store to clean it the hell up.”

Marnie laughed. “He so would.”

“Leaves down a river. Please,” I scoffed. “I prefer it when Paula just gives it to me straight.”

“Marnie style?” She grinned.

“Paula calls themgentle nudges.”

“I like this woman. And I like that spark in your eyes.” Marnie squeezed me with another hug. “It’s good to see my friend back.”

I ducked my head, vision blurry behind too much emotion. “Thanks, Mar,” I whispered.

“Don’t go all soft on me now,” she teased.

“Maybe it’s the new me.”

“Maybe it was always you, and you were just good at hiding it?”

“Maybe…”

Talk turned to a hundred other things—my work and Marnie signing on a new gallery. Three cocktails down, she was swearing off all men—including Eli, who she declared too nice to date—even as her eyes lingered on Romeo. He didn’t seem to mind the attention. He winked at her, and she just about fainted.

“You know,” she said, leaning over, a mischievous glint creeping into her smile. “I never understood that expression before—‘climb a man like a tree.’ But I think I get it now.”

“I think you’ve had too many of those”—I jabbed my finger at her cocktail—“to climb any trees.”

“A couple of branches?”

“Keep both of your feet firm on the ground, missy,” I said sternly.

Marnie giggled. “Firm.”

I laughed. She was tipsy. This was fun. Easy. It was great to catch up again and talk. I rolled my eyes, remembering Paula’s homework, but honestly, the sessions were helping. The pinch that usually twisted under my ribs wasn’t so tight anymore. I didn’t feel as guarded. My body wasn’t weighted down under a need to be constantly on alert and perfectly put together. Marnie was kind of…messy, but that didn’t make her any less impressive. I could learn a lot from her, too.

I sipped my Coke, glancing around the room, all the positive energy fizzling out as my eyes landed on the woman decked out in a gold kaftan stalking toward me.

Sarah Sullivan stopped in front of our table, her haughty chin raised high, and the eyes she glared down at me and Marnie full of judgment.

“Mrs. Sullivan.” Marnie raised her glass. “How wonderful to see you again.”

Sarah’s eyebrow arched. “And here I was thinking this was an exclusive club.” Her voice was edged with pure condescension. “I didn’t think your parents were members anymore.”

Marnie ignored the dig. “The yacht club can’t be too exclusive if they’re offering two-for-one cocktails on a Friday night.” She grinned. “Cheers!” She raised her glass and muttered a muffled “Fuck you” before taking a sip.

Sarah’s gaze dropped to my drink. “Like mother, like daughter.” A smug smirk pinched her lips.

Marnie’s hand hit the table. “That’s a Coca-Cola, you sanctimonious bitch—” She was half out of her chair before I tugged at her shirt to force her back down.

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