Page 84 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
“Of course. Let me just grab my jacket.” She unlocked her classroom door and disappeared inside for a moment, returning with a light cardigan. “There’s a deli around the corner that’s quiet. We can talk there.”
The walk took five minutes, but Journey didn’t press me for information. She chatted about her morning classes, about the new curriculum she was implementing, about everything except whatever was clearly eating at me. That was Journey—she’d give you space until you were ready to fill it.
The deli was small, with mismatched tables and a cozy atmosphere.
“Turkey club and sweet tea,” Journey told the woman behind the counter. “What about you, Naomi?”
“Chicken salad on wheat. Water’s fine.”
We found a table in the back corner, away from the handful of other lunch customers. Journey settled across from me, her hands folded, her expression patient but alert.
“So,” she said. “What’s going on?”
I took a deep breath and brought Journey up to speed about everything that happened between Christian and me since we met.
Journey listened without interruption, her expression shifting from surprise to understanding to something that looked like relief.
“So let me make sure I have this right,” she said when I finished. “You’ve been seeing this man for a year. You’ve been to Italy with him. He cooks for you, is your listening ear, and holds you when you have nightmares about Gerald. And you’re just now telling me his name?”
“It wasn’t supposed to be like that. We had rules.”
“Rules that you made up to protect yourself after Gerald destroyed your faith in love.”
“Yes.”
“And now those rules aren’t working anymore because you’ve fallen in love with him.”
I nodded, my throat tight. “I don’t know what to do, Journey. Saturday night, when I saw him at the gala with his assistant, Iwanted to walk over there and claim him. Tell everyone in that room that he was mine.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No. Because he’s not mine. Not really. We have an arrangement, not a relationship.”
Journey was quiet for a moment, processing everything I’d told her. Our food arrived, and she picked at her sandwich while she thought.
“Can I ask you something without you getting defensive?”
“Probably not but go ahead.”
“Is this about Christian, or is this about you being too scared to trust your own judgment again?”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you loved Gerald with everything you had. You trusted him completely, ignoring every red flag and making excuse after excuse for his behavior. And when it fell apart, it nearly destroyed you.”
“Journey.”
“I’m not finished. Now you’ve found a man who, from everything you’ve told me, treats you nothing like Gerald. Who respects your boundaries, who’s patient with your rules, who shows up for you consistently. And instead of recognizing that this is what healthy love looks like, you’re running scared because it’s not what you’re used to.”
I sat back in my chair, stunned by the accuracy of her assessment.
“Gerald trained you to think that love meant drama and chaos and constantly proving yourself,” Journey continued. “So when Christian shows you steady, reliable affection, your brain doesn’t recognize it as love.”
“That’s not—” I started, then stopped. “Okay, maybe there’s some truth to that.”
“Some truth? Honey, that’s the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”
I took a bite of my sandwich, giving myself time to process what she’d said. “But what if I’m wrong about him? What if I let my guard down and he turns out to be just like?—”
