Page 54 of Dance with Me on New Year's Eve

Maybe it could even be worth it.

“I—I hear updates from Jeff, not you. Like when Peter was in the hospital, Hazel.” I swallowed with difficulty. “But I don’t expect anything, so that’s OK.”

This wretched feeling of vulnerability waskilling me, but I forced myself to maintain eye contact with them.

“It’s OK to want more from people,” Mari said. “Sometimes it’s hard to ask because it’s like putting yourself on the line, right? But it can pay off a thousand-fold.”

“I know that in theory … I used to be a therapist.”

They both nodded, and I recalled I’d mentioned it once years ago. I guess they paid more attention than I realized.

“Well, I didn’t expect this to be a therapy session or intervention,” I said with a forced laugh. “I feel like I should pay you.”

Mari shook her head, her wavy bob sweeping from side to side. “You’re making it seem like no one would ever want to hang out with you unless you’re paying them, whether in money or labor. And I get it. I used to feel like that, actually. But it was just … my anxiety and internalized shame.”

My gaze traveled downward briefly and then back up. “My oldest friends.” I exhaled slowly, finally feeling my body relax a bit. “Thank you. I—I never talk about this stuff. I have two friends who know, but … well, one of them I’ve never met in person, and the other one I haven’t seen in years.”

“May I suggest something?” Mari asked tentatively.

“Sure,” I said, exhaling slowly and giving a half smile that was kind of genuine. “Not as my employer, right?”

She returned the smile. “Soon-to-be ex-employer, you mean. But yes, as your friend.”

The rush of warmth that coursed through me caught me off guard, so I just nodded, trying to calm my racing heart.

“Last year, I found an anxiety support group, and it had a huge impact on me and all the stuff I was trying to deal with. Have you ever looked into something like that for your social anxiety?”

My heart caught in my chest, and I must have looked like a deer in the headlights because she added, “Sorry, I am not trying to diagnose you. I have a business degree. I’m far from being a counselor.” She chuckled. “It just sounded like social anxiety to me, but maybe I’m wrong.”

Unable to do anything else, I forced myself to breathe in and out.

“This is hard, Rox,” said Hazel. “I get it. I haven’t struggled with that issue myself, but I’ve had plenty of other challenges in life. And sometimes it’s hard talking about things, even for an extrovert like me.”

“Thanks,” I managed to say. “To answer your question, Mari, no, I haven’t. It’s weird sometimes when you’re a therapist because it feels like all the stuff you tell your clients—all the ways you can help them—like it doesn’t apply to you.”

They nodded and just looked at me, waiting for me to say more. “Uh, I guess I could look into it.”

“Can we help? I have the Meetup app on my phone,” Hazel said eagerly.

“I don’t … I guess so,” I muttered as she typed away on her screen, not waiting for my answer.

Soon her face lit up even more, her brown eyes sparkling as she looked from the phone to me. “Found one! It’s for people with social anxiety. Looks like they have dinners, meet ‘n’ greets, and even fun outings like mini-golf.”

“Right here in Shipsvold?” Mari asked.

“Oh, no. We’re too small. The group leader’s actually over in Shellington, but they meet in different towns because their members are kind of spread out.” She paused, her eyes scanning the screen. “Oh! It looks like they’re meeting here in two weeks! A few days after Halloween. Don’t worry. It’s not Halloween-themed. I’ll sign you up.”

“Oh, uh … OK.” My head was spinning as I tried but failed to process all this.

“That reminds me! Peter and I are hosting a Halloween party this year. Well, it’s mostly me, but he goes along with it. Want to come?”

“You can say no. I know I will be,” Mari said dryly.

Hazel’s head swiveled toward her best friend. “You are coming.”

Mari chuckled. “We’ll see. You know I hate Halloween.”

“If it wasn’t for that Halloween party I dragged you to last year, you wouldn’t have reconnected with Pinecone!”

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