“I understand that,” Sylvia said. “I love California, but there’s something about coming back here that just feels good. It’s like taking off your heels and putting your slippers on.”
“Exactly,” I said. “And I feel like I’ve lived in heels for a long time.”
“What about your job?” asked April. “Would you quit?”
“That would be difficult,” I admitted. “I’ve worked really, really hard to get where I am, and I’ve sacrificed a lot of things to be successful—romantic relationships, sleep, friendships, my health.”
“Why do you think that is?” Sylvia asked. “Does your career really fulfill you that much?”
“I don’t know anymore.” My throat felt tight, and I grabbed my water, taking a quick sip before going on. “Partly I’ve just always been that way—I get off on overachieving because subconsciously I must think it makes me a better person. It validates me. But also . . . it’s a pretty good shield.”
“A shield against what?” Sylvia asked.
I took another long, slow drink of water, trying to prevent myself from breaking down. “Against putting myself out there and really trying to make a relationship work. If I prioritize work over my relationships, then it gives me something to blame when they end—and they always do, because no one wants to feel taken for granted.”
“That’s true,” she said.
“Then I don’t have to internalize it,” I went on, seeing myself much more clearly. “Then it’s not, ‘Oh, he just didn’t want me.’ It’s more like, ‘Oh, he didn’t want me because I didn’t give him enough time and attention.’ It’s because of something I did or didn’t do, as opposed to who I really am.”
“That’s a really honest thing to admit about yourself,” said April. “It takes a lot of courage to really look in the mirror that way.”
My eyes filled. “For years, whenever my relationships fell apart, I’ve been feeling sorry for myself, asking, ‘Why don’t they fight harder for me? How can they just let me go?’ But of course, I’ve been sabotaging it all along. It comes to the same conclusion every time, because I force it to, like a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
“It’s not them, it’s you,” said April with a gentle, teasing smile.
I nodded. “It’s me, because I’m scared. I never let them get close enough to me, and I don’t try to get close enough to them. Why would they fight to save it?”
“So what’s changed?” asked Sylvia. “What’s making you realize all this?”
“I really think it’s Noah.” I shook my head in disbelief. “It’s the craziest thing, you guys. I was telling him this last night—for the first time, really opening up about it. And he totally understood me and made me feel like I didn’t have to be so afraid. Plus he’s gorgeous and funny and thoughtful, and the sex is so good.”
“Wow.” Sylvia looked wistful. “All that is definitely worth fighting for.”
“Absolutely,” April agreed. “So what will you do?”
“I’m going to stay.” The words surprised me—even my decisive tone surprised me. Deep down, I must have already known what I was going to do. “I need to put myself out there and take a risk. Even if things fall apart with Noah, and right now that’s hard to imagine, I don’t want to live the rest of my life wondering what if . . . I have to take this chance.”
Sylvia clasped her hands beneath her chin. “This is so romantic.”
I laughed, putting my hands over my stomach. “I have all the butterflies right now. Because I have no idea what he’s going to say.”
“What do you mean?” April looked confused. “Noah adores you. We told you yesterday, it’s totally obvious. It’s been obvious for years.”
“But there are complications. You guys don’t know him like I do.”
“That’s the point,” she said. “You know him so well.”
“No, I mean, he’s been really honest with me about not wanting to commit to a relationship. He doesn’t want to be anyone’s boyfriend. And I said I wasn’t looking for one.”
“Well, that was before,” suggested Sylvia.
“That was three days ago,” I told her warily. “Although it has been a very intense three days.”
April reached out and put a hand on my arm. “Talk to him. It’s not going to do any good to sit around worrying about what he might or might not say. You’re done being scared, remember?”
“Right.” I nodded defiantly, recalling what I’d just said to Noah last night about his mom. “If I want to be happy, I can’t choose fear over love.”
“Do you love him?” Sylvia asked.
I didn’t have to think twice. “I’ve always loved him,” I said. “I don’t know why it’s taken me this long to say it.”
Later, I took a jog around the farm, nothing too strenuous—my body was exhausted from the lack of sleep—to give myself a chance to think everything over. I knew how I felt about Noah, but before making any life-changing decisions, I wanted to take some time alone to really consider the consequences of what I was about to do, the risks involved, the possibilities.
If I quit my job and moved back, what would I do? Where would I live? How would this thing with Noah play out?
Before I made any permanent decisions, did I need to hear him say he was open to a future together? For me, that meant marriage and kids. I wanted a family. Would I upend my life with that issue up in the air?
I knew I couldn’t force him to make promises at this point. After less than one week together, it would be ludicrous of me to expect his mind to change so quickly. And it wasn’t like he’d been wishy-washy on the matter. It was a firm no way, no how, and he had reasons to back it up. Even if I disagreed with his reasons and thought he was just being stubborn and scared, I wasn’t going to get anywhere by arguing with him.
Would more time together make him change his mind? What if it didn’t? What if I moved back and fell deeper in love with him only to be brokenhearted in the end?
I reached the edge of the creek that ran through the woods at the back of my family’s property and sank onto my butt for a rest. My heart rate was a little too high to turn around and run right back, and I wasn’t that anxious to be around people anyway.
The creek was pretty low but still moving, and I watched the water rush over the stones and thought again about Noah’s refusal to believe he was capable of being a good husband and father.
It was crazy to me. What was a good husband and father if not someone devoted to loving and protecting his family? How could Noah think he wasn’t that man? Sure, his ex had done a number on him, and maybe he struggled to trust after that, but this was me. He knew he could trust me to accept him, family and all. I’d never be so demanding he had to feel guilty about disappointing me here and there when his family needed him.
As for his being a cop, I loved that about him. I couldn’t think of a more perfect job for Noah, and I truly believed he’d make an awesome sheriff, as good as his father had been. If I moved here, I could help him with his campaign. He’d never need to worry that I wouldn’t understand when his job had to come first. Maybe I couldn’t promise I’d never get frustrated by it, but I could promise that I knew what it meant to him to serve and protect no matter the cost. His parents had made it work—we could too. I fell back onto the mossy ground and looked at the sky above the tops of the birch and maple and evergreen trees, imagining a life together for us.