Page 105 of One Small Spark
Thankfully, I can take it from here. I wrap both arms around her, holding her close. The tension coiling through me fades away on each slow breath. Snuggling Wren is a completely impractical method for dealing with my anxiety, but it’s now my all-time favorite.
Somewhere by the door, her phone buzzes. She sighs against me, kicking both her feet over my legs.
Our book group friends haven’t let up with their eager hintsabout Wren and me. They’ll probably want to take full credit when they find out we’re actually together.
“Did you finish the book?” she asks.
“Yes.” Everybody dropped their walls and declared their love. It took almost four hundred pages, but they got there.
“I haven’t yet. I’ve been too busy.” She lightly presses her fingers against my chest.
“You don’t regret a minute of it.”
She just laughs. “I heard once that some people with anxiety like reading romances because you always know things are going to turn out okay in the end. Is that true for you?”
“I don’t know. Some of those third act breakups can be pretty brutal.”
“Is that a hint for the book?”
“No. It’s a comment on love stories having heart-wrenching moments right before they end happily.”
“A tale as old as time.” She draws small circles over my chest. “Would your presentation be any easier for you if people you know are in the front row?”
I snake my arms tighter around her. “Probably depends on which people I know.”
She releases a little growl of frustration. Ah, yes. One of my favorite sounds.
“I mean me, obviously. If I was there, would that help? Or just make you stress more?”
I love that she’s trying to accommodate my anxiety even as she’s looking for ways to soothe it.
“It would mean a lot to have you there.” It won’t magically cure my anxiety over being on stage, but having a comforting face to focus on could help.
“What if you had a big support group with you? Like Leo and Charlie and your parents?”
“That might help, but it doesn’t matter. They’re busy that night.”
She tips her head back to look up at me. “What do you mean?”
“The town hall meeting is the same night as the gala at Moonlight Lodge.”
She stares. “What?”
Then, she shifts so she’s sitting up and straddles me, gazing hard into my eyes. “They scheduled their event for the same night as your big presentation?”
“To be fair, my presentation wasn’t on the town hall calendar yet when they set up the gala.”
“Can they reschedule?”
I smile over how hard she’s trying to find a solution for me. “It’s pretty late for that.”
“Do they at least feel bad about missing out?” A little line forms between her eyebrows as if she needs to convince my family of their transgressions.
“I didn’t tell them.”
She takes me by the shoulders. “Why not?”
“What’s the point? They can’t reschedule, and neither can I. It’s not their fault it sometimes feels like…”
