Page 43 of Hello Handsome
She was right. Of course she was right. Problem was, I didn’t know how to live my life any differently than I had all these years. I’d been to therapy. I’d talked about my feelings. I’d been brave and tried to move forward.
That pain was my reminder to give even more care to my boys since they had one parent instead of two. The grief taught me to be patient and gentle with others because I never knew what battles they were fighting silently. And if the mother of my children had to suffer the way she did, she damned well wasn’t suffering alone.
“You’re right,” I finally said, my voice rough with emotion. “I am holding on to the pain, but there’s more to it than that.”
She tilted her head, bringing her hand back to her own lap. My thigh suddenly felt cold again. But she asked, “What do you mean?”
I shifted in my seat, folding my hands in my lap and playing with the wedding ring on my finger. I hadn’t even thought to take it off before admitting my feelings for Aggie. “When I said those vows to Maya, I promised her forever. She’ll always be apart of me, even if it doesn’t look the same. I’m holding on toher.”
Aggie’s back stiffened. And she went quiet for a moment, like she needed time to process my words. “You really love her,” she whispered. It wasn’t a question. There wasn’t emotion to it. Simply a fact.
I nodded, throat feeling raw. “But I love you, too.”
She blinked quickly. “I wish that was enough.” Then she pressed the door open, got her bag, and went into the house. Even after the door shut behind her, the words echoed in my mind.
I wish that was enough.
29
AGGIE
I walkedthrough the door of my home and fell into Etta’s hug while a fresh round of tears shook my body. I’d texted her with the basic details before we left Dallas and begged her to be there when I got home.
And she’d shown up for me.
Just like I’d finally shown up for myself.
She led me to the couch, tucking a blanket around me and then shoving a warm mug of tea into my hand. “Drink,” she ordered, full-on momming me.
And it made me cry even more because my mom never let me cry over a man. Even when Porter left, she said,I knew he was no good from the moment I met him. You should have listened to me.
I attempted a drink of tea and dribbled some of the hot liquid down my chin. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess.” I cried again, holding the blanket to my face. The fuzzy, floral one Etta loved to use for movie nights.
But Etta rubbed my back and said, “You cry as long as you need. We can talk when you’re ready. Or we can do nothing and sit. I’m here for you, Agatha.”
Her words gave me the permission I needed to fall apart. I leaned into her shoulder, letting myself cry, knowing I finally had someone to pick me up. She rubbed my back and brushed my hair away from my face and told me I’d be okay. That I was strong even when I felt weak. That I deserved everything I wanted and more.
And when my tears finally subsided and I could drink the lukewarm tea without bursting into a fresh round of sobs, we talked.
I told her everything that happened, from what felt like a magical moment to the gut punch of hearing his wife’s name on his lips when it should have been mine. When I was done, I braced myself for her judgment like my mom would have done.
But she shook her head. “That man still has healing to do, and it’s not your job to be his therapist. You did the right thing.”
I nodded, a small piece of my mind still doubting that. Should I have forgiven him? Tried again?
But how could I be with him without hearing the echo of Maya’s name? Seeing her flowers around the house? The ring she gave him on his finger?
He hadn’t moved on–even if we both wanted him to.
I set the empty mug with a tea bag at the bottom on the coffee table and said, “The problem is I’ve held out for Gray for years. I never wanted to date someone else because it meant closing the door on the possibility of us. It’s time for me to close the door. Once and for all. I need to find a window. A good one.”
Etta smiled slightly. “We’re not talking about building entrances anymore, are we?” She got up from the couch, going to fill my cup of tea with hot water from the coffee pot.
I chucked weakly, wanting to be the brave version of myself she believed in. And then I did my best to straighten up, making sure my shirt wasn’t askew and using a ponytail holder from mywrist to tie my hair back. “How do people our age meet someone to date?”
She sent me a surprised look as she peeled back the wrapper of a new tea bag. “You want to date someone? You don’t need time to process?”
“I’ve had twenty years to process that Gray Madigan and I will never be together,” I said with an attempt at levity. But it came out as pathetic as it felt.
