Page 92 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
Ian talks right over me. “And plus, there are a lot more dangerous jobs than astronauts. First responders, loggers, steel work—”
“They’re all idiots.” I think about Dr. Sato’s husband Ryan, the firefighter pushing around their twins. Twins who are just one fire, one backdraft away from losing their dad. I shake my head in disgust. “They don’t know what could happen. They don’t get it.” I look intensely into Ian’s eyes, trying to convey without words how right I am, how important my decision is. “You thinkmyidea to not want to be in love is selfish?” I scoff. “Thetrulyselfish people are the ones who know there’s a good chance they’ll die but have wives and kids anyway. Families and significant others they’ll leave behind to wallow in grief.” When I’m finished, I need to take a deep breath, surprised to find myself panting.
“Okay, wow.” Ian’s eyebrows are practically touching his hairline. “So…that’s quite a lot to unpack.” The normally strait-laced senator’s son cocks his head to the side and exhales a long breath. “But before we try delving into allthat, I’m going to do three things for you.”
Before he can explain, the waiter stops by with our next round of beers.
When I reach for mine, Ian pushes my hand away. Addressing the server, he says, “We’re gonna need two shots of Jameson for these.”
The waiter nods, like two men doing boilermakers before noon is a common occurrence, then walks away.
Ian focuses on me and holds up a finger. “One, I’m going to get you drunk.”
“Yes.” That sounds like a great idea.
“Two.” He shifts in his seat and pulls out his wallet. Flipping it open, he slides out a business card and hands it to me. “I’m going to give you this.”
I take the card and read, “Dr. Betty Brown, psychologist.” I frown harder, not understanding. “A shrink?”
“Yes.” Ian nods. “And a damn fine one.”
“Huh.” I look at Ian with new eyes, processing this information. “I didn’t know you were in therapy.”
Ian shrugs like it’s no big deal, which only makes me respect him more. “But that’s not going to help you right now.” He points at me. “You owe Rose an apology. For the sake of your co-workers and friends, but mostly for her own sake.”
I swallow, the heavy feelings of regret settling over me once more. “Yeah, I know.”
“And the sooner the better. Because not only do you have two West brothers to deal with, but also a crazy astronaut who I wouldn’t put past killing you and making it look like an accident and another astronaut who’s smart enough to help her get away with it.”
“Fuck.” I forgot that on top of a broken heart, I also have to deal with a normally instructive, but now probably psychotic Julie Starr.
The waiter comes with our shots.
“You might as well bring another set,” Ian says to him while sliding me my beer.
“What’s the third thing?” I ask when the waiter leaves.
“I’m going to tell you something, and you’re not going to like it, but I promise you it’s one hundred percent true.”
“That sounds great.”
Ian looks me dead in the eye. “You didn’t believe Rose because if you accepted that she loved you, with your skewed, emotionally damaged logic, you’d be forced to let her go.”
I flinch.
Still holding my eyes, Ian tilts his head, as if assessing my reaction. “And you don’t want to let her go because you love her.”
It’s hard to swallow. Both his words and the lump in my throat.
Ian hands me my shot.
Silently, I take it.
When I can finally breathe evenly again, I level Ian with a look. “You’re brutal.”
He nods. “I was raised on politics.”
“I thought maybe that insight might’ve come from therapy.”
