“Fine. But Loren’s also extra vulnerable right now, because of everything going on with her dad. And I don’t teach psych, but I remember reading about transference of emotions and stuff like that. Jumping in on that, when I’m fully aware she’s fragile, wouldn’t be fair to her.”
He frowns. “Are you being fair to yourself, though, by not even taking the chance?”
“Maybe not.” This is the part that’s the hardest to admit. “But if things happened between us, like romantically, and her feelings turned out to be just some mix-up from heightened emotions, I’m not sure I could come back from that. Ever.”
Creases slash across Dex’s forehead. “I hear you,” he says. “And I guess I even understand. But I don’t have to like it.”
“Yeah.” I flash him a grim smile. “Same and same.”
He pauses to drain his water bottle, then wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “So what you’re saying is, for now, you just want things with Loren to be as normal as possible?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well,Isay the best way to do that is to have a party for your thirtieth.”
I arch a brow. “So I’m supposed to take advice fromyouon how to be normal?”
His lopsided grin returns. “Haven’t steered you wrong yet.”
“Debatable.”
“Come on, man.” He spreads his hands. “Let Sayla and me plan something for this weekend. We could even make it a surprise. You and Loren wouldn’t have to do a thing. Just show up when and where we text you.”
I run a hand through my hair, ruffling it up. “Maybe.”
“Maybe, yes?” He bats his eyelashes. “Pretty please?”
Man. I cannot say no to the guy. “Fine.”
“All right!” He pumps a triumphant fist in the air.
“Calm yourself,” I say.
“Can’t.” He hops up from the bench. “My friend? Prepare yourself for the most normal birthday ever.”
I make the drive back to my house in total silence. No music. No podcasts. Although I could use a pair of noise-cancelling headphones to quiet the WWE wrestling match in my head.
The stuff Dex dropped in my lap—details he’s noticed about Loren—made for some pretty compelling evidence. And his proof lines up with what I’ve noticed between Loren and me, too.
But believing Loren might want something more than friendship feels … dangerous.
Forget the heartbreak formeif we’re wrong. The damage I could do to Loren would be worse. I don’t want her to get caught up in something that isn’t real simply because she’s fragile right now.
I won’t risk hurting her, even if that means continued suffering for me. And sadly, that workout did nothing torelieve my mental agony. Now I’m basically a man with Jell-O arms, dangling over a water tank filled with piranhas, and only one thin rope to cling to.
Metaphorically speaking, of course.
At the red light, an alarm sounds on my phone, and a groan slips out of me. My gaze shifts to the cupholder, although I already know what this is about. A reminder for the upcoming Zoom meeting with my trustee, Margaret Adams.
To say I’m dreading this first post-wedding contact with my mother would be a dramatic understatement. I’d probably rather take a bath with those piranhas. But at least she’s a thousand miles away from me physically. No metaphor required. Also, she’s legally handcuffed. I checked, double-checked, and triple-checked with my lawyer. I got married before my thirtieth birthday. That’s it. Control of the trust is mine.
As long as my marriage is legitimate.
The light turns green, and I fight a bolt of anger rising up in me. What else could she demand? The original marriage license? More video proof that our relationship is valid? I wrack my brain for the threat she leveled in her text.
If you’re deceiving me, I will learn of it.
Something like that.