Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
I've seen the situation unfold a dozen times before. Anytime a boyfriend tiptoed toward firm definitions.
I completely understand where she’s coming from, which is why no matter how hard it hurts, or how terrified it makes me, I won’t be the one to force the issue.
I meant it when I told her I wanted to be whatever she needed me to be for her, and I will continue to be that. Even if the day never comes where she tells me she wants me and only me forever.
And as much as that hurts, it only makes me that much more appreciative of every day I get to spend with her where I can pretend like she’s mine.
CHAPTER 14
MONROE
I slowly shift around my massage table, getting another pump of lotion as I instruct my client to breathe deeply.
“Okay, let it out,” I say softly while gliding my hands over her back, triple-checking that the two knots I spent thirty minutes on have finally broken. “Good,” I say, happy with where her muscles now stand.
I move, carefully shifting the sheet to properly hide my client's body as I tell her to turn over, moving on to the last portion of our session where I'll focus on her neck and head.
“And it's like so crazy,” my client continues as if there's been no pause in our conversation while I've been working on her. “Just pick a flavor, that's all I'm asking him to do, but it's like him coming with me to the cake shop is the same as trying to get him to make a decision on a venue.”
One of my regular off-season clients, Lana, is a delightful woman my age, and recently engaged. Our last four sessions have focused on easing tension that is clearly being caused by stress. Like many of my other clients, she uses the opportunity to treat me sort of like a bartender—unloading grievances and stresses that she likely doesn't even realize she's confessing to.
It sort of comes with the territory of my job, releasing physical tension can be a trigger for the emotional as well. I move her long black hair out of the way, working my fingers into the tense muscles in her neck.
“At least you two have finally set a date.” I do my best to focus on the positive.
I walk a fine line with my profession—I can be a healer for their body, but I don't have a degree in psychology, so I don't presume to have the answers about the emotional stuff. The best I can do is give them an ear to listen and encouragement that’s healthy yet professional.
“You are so right,” she says, eyes closed, a deep sigh falling from her lips as I move to the base of her skull. “In the beginning, it was hard for him to set a date, so maybe it's the same thing with all these other decisions. Maybe I'm putting too much pressure on the wedding itself. But I can't help it, I'm excited. I've been dreaming about this moment since I was a little girl. You get where I’m coming from, right?”
I take a moment, focusing more on the tense muscles in the base of her skull than I need to. This is one of those fine lines.
“I'm afraid I'm not super helpful in this subject,” I say, choosing to go with honesty.
Lana opens her eyes, looking up at me. “Wait. You're telling me you didn't dream about your wedding day when you were a little girl?”
I furrow my brow, continuing my work. “Not really,” I say. “Maybe when I was young enough to not understand what my mom's profession was.”
“That's right,” she says, recognition dawning in her eyes before she closes them again. “I remember you telling me about her. She's a powerhouse right? Like the best divorce lawyer in the country or something?”
I chuckle, nodding even though her eyes are closed. “One of them,” I answer, working my way higher up her head.
“I guess I get why you wouldn't be dreaming about your wedding then,” she says. “You probably heard all kinds of wild stories growing up.”
“I have,” I admit. “Once I was old enough, I asked questions about my mom’s cases. She never lied to me about them and it sort of made me look at marriage in a different way. Which is not to say it's bad,” I hurry to continue. “I think it's more like I've seen behind the curtain a little too much. The reality of it made me view marriage in a different way. And it's all quite ironic, since my parents have been happily married for like a billion years.”
Lana chuckles softly, sighing again as I run my fingers through her hair, working on her temples in soothing circles. “That's encouraging,” she says. “I mean that your mom can see so many marriages falling apart and still believe in her own. It must be true love.”