You have better things to worry about.
He can’t hurt you anymore. Not if you don’t let him.
I should block his number, I know that, and if someone were to ask why I haven’t yet, and Lila and Ian have done so multiple times, I wouldn’t have a good answer. I know deep down a part of me still craves that connection, that maybe I always will, but a more rational part of me knows it’s toxic. That the longer I let him do this, the more it will cut me inside.
And still I let him do it.
Another text buzzes on my phone, and this time, I snatch it up in a hurry, angry at myself immediately for doing so. Thankfully, it isn’t my father.
Christine:Still coming for tea after class?
I sigh in relief. Being friends with Ian’s mother was never on my bingo card, but in the past few months, her friendship has become a godsend. I’ll never understand why she chooses to give it, but I’m grateful for it, regardless.
I tap out a quick reply.
Me:sure thing
And as wild as it is that I would be excited toseethe woman my father cheated on to have me…I am. I really am.
Maybe she can tell me why I can’t block my father’s number.
Ian’s mom’s smile is wideand bright as she ushers me in the door, taking my jacket and hanging it on the hook.
“Well, come in, come in,” she says. “How was class?”
The thing about Christine is—she’s the only person who knows my shit who doesn’t treat me like a child. Maybe that’s why I keep coming back here, even though seeing her fills me with tremendous guilt simply for existing.
“It was good,” I tell her. “Long.”
“I can imagine. All that fancy science stuff goes right over my head.” She takes my arm and leads me into the sitting room, urging me down on the couch. “Let me get the tea.”
I sit quietly on the couch as she moves into the kitchen, and I can hear the faint sounds of her pouring tea into cups before she reappears with two steaming mugs. She hands me one before settling onto the couch beside me.
“So,” she starts, blowing on her mug. “How is life?”
I chuckle, blowing on my own mug. “It’s going, I guess.”
“And the Bradley situation? Is he still hounding you?”
She really doesn’t beat around the bush.
I clear my throat. “He’s still texting me a lot.”
“Asshole,” she mutters. “I’m sorry. He never really did know how to be told no.” She places her hand on my knee. “Are you okay?”
I almost feel like laughing at the question. Here I am, sitting on the couch of my dad’swife, technically, since their divorce hasn’t been finalized, listening to her ask his bastard if she’s okay.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Christine nods. “Of course.”
“Is it weird for you?”
“Is what weird for me?”
I twirl a finger in my direction. “This. Me. Sometimes I still don’t know why you talk to me.”
“Ah.” Her lips purse, and she seems to consider as she takes a slow sip from her mug. “Maybe at first,” she admits after she’s swallowed. “But when Ian told me about you…all I could think about was how lonely you must be.” She gives me a stern look. “You didn’t ask for any of this, Abby. I know that. It wouldn’t be fair of me to hate you for it.”