Shannon glanced around at the stark white walls in Jeremiah’s place. They came standard on houses like his. She’d painted hers, but he was obviously okay with the bright walls that felt like they belonged in a hospital, not a home.
The scent of Italian food mingled with the birthday cake candle he’d lit, and the weird combination of smells made her stomach turn. But she put a smile on her face and tucked her hands in her pockets. She hadn’t seen Jeremiah in a few days because of the wedding, and it felt like their relationship had taken a few steps backward.
“Are you excited about the painting tonight?” he asked, flipping open the lid on one of the pizza boxes.
“Ridiculously so,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to do a group painting night, but my sisters won’t go with me.”
“Why not?”
“Cheyenne thinks it’s too expensive, and Cheryl thinks it’s stupid.” She shook her head and smiled, her dark hair brushing her forearms.
“And you?”
“I like to create,” she said.
“Ah, something new about you I didn’t know.” He indicated the plates. “This isn’t a restaurant. Come get what you want.”
Shannon moved forward, the atmosphere between them intimate now. “So, tell me something I don’t know about you,” she said as she opened a container and found a giant Greek salad.
“Oh, you know everything,” he said. “That video at the gala summed things up nicely.”
“We haven’t been hiking or anything,” she said. “The video said you liked those things.”
“I go hiking in the mornings,” he said. “Early.”
“How early?” She tonged some salad onto her plate and opened the next container. The heavenly scent of spaghetti hit her, and she smiled.
“Five o’clock,” he said. “That’s my morning workout. My trainer, Brandon, gives me a schedule and a map and a time to do the hike in.”
“You have a personal trainer?” She ran her eyes from his broad shoulders down his trim body to his feet. “No wonder.”
“No wonder what?”
Shannon’s face heated, and she focused on serving herself some spaghetti without splashing sauce all over the place. “Nothing.”
“Oh, I see,” he said after a few moments of silence. “You think I’m good-looking.” He laughed, and Shannon did her best to join in.
“Duh,” she said, hipping him so he’d move away from the bread.
“You could come with,” he said. “But I stick to the pirate code. If you fall behind, you get left behind.”
“Doesn’t sound like something I’m interested in,” she said, shooting him a sly look. “Now, if we could go at a leisurely pace, and pack a picnic, then I’d go.”
“Let’s do that next weekend,” he said. “Do you have a wedding?”
“Unfortunately, I do.”
“Sunday?”
“I could do Sunday.”
“We could ride the ferry out to Three Mile Island. There’s a nice hike there that’s pretty easy. Waterfall at the top.”
“Sold,” Shannon said, glad she had another date on the horizon. Because this week…this week was going to be bad, and she told him about it as they ate.
“It’s fine,” he said. “But you were going to take Herc. Do you still want him?”
“Yes,” Shannon said. She hadn’t told Jeremiah how much Hercules helped her, because she didn’t want him to know how cracked she still was.
“He’s all yours.” He glanced at the clock and threw down his napkin. “Come on, sweetheart. We’re going to be late for our first painting class.”
The next afternoon, Shannon sat in a waiting room, Hercules at her feet. He’d been sitting up and laying down for the past fifteen minutes as her panic ebbed and flowed. She couldn’t believe she was back to seeing a therapist. Couldn’t believe she hadn’t told anyone. Not Cheryl. Not her mother.
Not Jeremiah.
It was a secret between her and the yellow lab, who once again sat up and pressed his face against Shannon’s knees.
She stroked him absently, some of her fears calming with the simple action. Doctor Finlayson was a good doctor. The same woman Shannon had come to years earlier. Everything would be fine.
“Shannon?” a nurse called, and Shannon almost tripped over Hercules as she practically flew to her feet.
The nurse didn’t smile or flinch or anything. She mostly looked bored, and she was a new addition to the office since last time Shannon had been here. “Come on, Herc,” she said to the dog, who lumbered to his feet and walked at her side.
“Go on back,” the nurse said, waving with her arm toward the door at the end of the hall. Shannon held her head high as she walked toward the door, telling herself she was brave and strong and could twist that knob and go inside.
She did all of those things, and Doctor Finlayson stood up from her desk chair. “Shannon Bell. It’s so good to see you.” She came around the desk, and Shannon felt a kindred spirit in the cute black pencil skirt and bright blue blouse with bright yellow stars all over it.
She gave Shannon a hug and held her at arm’s length. “What are you doing here?”
Shannon stared blankly back. “I just wanted to talk about some things.” She indicated Hercules. “This is Hercules. He’s a therapy dog.”
Doctor Finlayson’s eyebrows shot toward the sky. “You have a therapy dog?”
“No, my…boyfriend just lets me take him sometimes.”
“So you have a boyfriend.” Her smile widened. “I think I know who it is.” She retraced her steps and sat at her desk. She tapped on her phone a few times and turned it toward Shannon. “Jeremiah Yeates.”
The picture had been taken at the gala, and Shannon had stared at several of them for hours over the past week. She looked good, she could admit that. Her hair had behaved, and that dress was stunning on her.
But it was Jeremiah who stole the picture. He oozed charisma and power, while she just looked like she was holding on for dear life.
“Yes,” she said anyway. “I’m seeing him.” She took a seat on the couch facing the desk.
“And how’s it going?”
“Okay,” she said, glad when Hercules pressed into her legs. “I’m here because…I mean, I want to be ready for a real relationship.” She swallowed, wishing someone had offered her a bottle of water. They used to do that, but no one had said anything. She’d hidden behind a simple plastic bottle so many times, she almost felt naked without one in her hand.
“You don’t think you’re ready?” Doctor Finlayson sat in her chair and crossed her arms on the desk in front of her. “You haven’t been to see me for three years, Shannon.”
“I know,” Shannon said. “I know.” She twirled the end of Hercules’s leash between her fingers. “I thought I was ready. Intellectually, I’m ready. Physically, I’m ready.” She thought about kissing Jeremiah and how it was the sweetest experience every time she did it.
“But emotionally and mentally, I’m not quite sure,” she said.
Doctor Finlayson frowned the teensiest bit, and she flipped open a folder. “Have you…been intimate with him?”
“We hold hands and kiss,” she said, her insides starting to tremble. “That’s all.”
“And that’s okay?” She glanced up from the folder. “Because I seem to remember you saying you never wanted another man to touch you.”
“It’s okay with Jeremiah,” Shannon said.
“So, you think you’ll be able to be intimate with him?”
Shannon had no idea. “I mean, I wouldn’t do that until we were married anyway….”
“Have you spoken to him about it?”
“No.” Shannon pressed her lips together. “But I told him about Richard. About what he tried to do.”
Doctor Finlayson nodded, but Shannon had seen that look before. Even though it had been a few years since she’d darkened the doorways of this office, she knew the therapist thought Shannon had not said enough.
“I should probably talk to him about it,” Shannon said. “That it might be…hard for me.”
“Impossible is the word you used,” Doctor Finlayson said as she glanced at the file and back at Shannon. “Do you still feel that way?”
“I don’t know,” Shannon said. Hercules got up and jumped onto the couch beside her. He leaned right into her body, half of his in her lap. She rubbed him with both hands and searched for a measure of her bravery. “What do I say? That hey, I really like you, and we might fall in love, but I don’t ever want to have sex?”
Jeremiah wasn’t a pervert, but Shannon didn’t think for a moment that he’d be okay with a platonic relationship.
“If that’s how you feel, then yes, that’s what you say.” The doctor looked at her. “I can tell you like this man. And I think he’s the reason you’re back in my office after all this time.”
Shannon couldn’t deny it, so she kept her mouth shut.
“And you’re thinking of falling in love with him.”
Shannon shook her head. “No, Doctor Finlayson. One doesn’t think about falling in love. It just happens. One day, things are fine and you’re okay, and the next you’re in love.” She thought about Jeremiah, his handsome face, his innate goodness. Why had he crushed on her? What about her had told him she would be interested in him? Or that he should get to know her? Nothing about the two of them made sense.
“Are you in love with him?” Doctor Finlayson asked.
“No,” Shannon said with conviction. That much she knew, at least.
“But you could be.”
“I think, with time,” Shannon said. “I could fall in love with him, yes.” She looked down at her hands again, the secret finally out.
“What are you feeling right now?”
“I’m scared,” she said. “And nervous. And I feel like he’s made a big mistake.”
“Because he likes you too?”
“Exactly,” Shannon said, nodding. “Exactly.”
By the time she pulled into her driveway that night, she’d eaten far too many tacos. Just because something was labeled as “mini” didn’t make it calorie-free—or even small. And Manni’s Monday night mini tacos were all you could eat. And Shannon had eaten a lot. Sure, she’d fed some to Hercules too, and she hoped he wouldn’t have digestive problems that night.
She’d told Jeremiah she’d call him, but the words from her therapy session still echoed in her head.
You are a person of worth, Doctor Finlayson had said. You deserve good things to happen to you. Is Jeremiah a good thing or a bad thing?
Shannon believed him to be good. A good doctor. A good man. A good boyfriend. So why didn’t she call him?
She had to list five good qualities about herself before their next session, as well as practice the positive self-talk she’d learned years ago. Doctor Finlayson had asked her to do one quality each day, so Shannon sat down at the counter, a blank piece of paper in front of her.
Across the top, she wrote HARD-WORKING in all capital letters. She did work hard. Around the house to make it an enjoyable space to spend time in. At work, with the brides and the planners and her boss.
She scratched out the word and went to get another paper. She grabbed a couple of permanent markers from the drawer too, and this time when she wrote the word, it was bold and colorful and perfect.
She’d been challenged to illustrate the quality, or put a definition on it, but Shannon knew she was hard-working. She hung the poster with the single word on it on the fridge and stood back to look at it.
Peace filled her from top to bottom. She wasn’t completely worthless. There were people at Your Tidal Forever who depended on her. Who needed her. Who would notice if she disappeared from the island.
She breathed, and it was easier than it had been in days. Feeling much better about herself, she picked up her phone and dialed Jeremiah.