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“Okay. Here goes.” I took a deep breath and blurted it out: “I’m in love with Mark.” And because admitting those words out loud triggered such emotion, I instantly teared up.
A smile spread across Sasha’s face. “I knew it. I mean I didn’t know it, but I noticed you talking to him the night of the party. And then the evening we came over for dinner, he kept stealing glances at you. I wondered if it might be the beginning of something.”
I smiled despite the way it hurt to think back. “I was completely clueless he might be interested in more than friends until he came over after my disaster of a date with this law school guy.”
“You went out on a date? And you didn’t tell me?”
I shrugged. “Nothing to tell. I was home early, and then Mark came over and— Anyhow, it doesn’t matter. The relationship, or whatever you’d call it, is over now.”
“Because you moved back to Charlotte?”
I shook my head. “Long story short is he isn’t yet over his fiancée or ready to love again. Maybe I wasn’t ready yet, either. Because I didn’t see his issues even when my gut was trying to warn me. I’m not saying I won’t ever date again, but maybe I need some time to figure out how to love myself before expecting someone else to do it.” Plus, it wasn’t like Mark was an easy guy to get over, either.
She gave a sad sigh. “You’re going to see him at the wedding. What do you think will happen?”
I smiled, having pictured that scenario more than once. My visions ranged from him ignoring me, as he had at Catherine’s party, to him pulling me onto the dance floor and not caring who in the world knew about us. The latter was the fantasy I most wished for.
“It’ll be fine. Honestly, it makes me happy to have an excuse to see him again. Don’t worry; neither of us is the type to cause a scene. I mostly tend to embarrass myself in small, selective groups.”
She laughed. “Yeah, well if I start to have a panic attack at the reception with all those people, I’m counting on you to come up with a very public scene to distract everyone.”
I held up my hand as if I was taking an oath. “I, Juliette Walker, do solemnly swear to make a complete and utter fool of myself in front of a lot of people if you give me the sign. Which will be...?”
She pretended to contemplate. “I will say the code words: Help me, Juliette.”
I burst out laughing. “That’s the worst code ever, but it’ll work.”
She was giggling, too. “I’m pretty uncreative when it comes to that kind of stuff.” Then she got serious. “You know what I wish?”
I shook my head. “No, what?”
“I wish I could take all the love everyone has for you in this office, with Brian and me at the top of the list, and put it in a bottle so you could have it whenever you need it. Because moments like these make me realize how terribly I missed you over the last couple of months.”
I fought the tears. This only proved I’d made the correct decision in coming back. This was where I could steadily gain my confidence and feel it daily with people who lifted me up.
* * *
The next dayI decided to employ a tactic that Dr. Mac had suggested in one of our sessions. Although it had sounded silly at the time, at this point, what did I have to lose? So I started my day with thinking something positive about myself. A daily affirmation if you will. It could be something little, such as I was happy I’d picked the pink nail polish, or something bigger, such as patting myself on the back for a good-mom moment.
But in addition to that, I needed to start believing the compliments others would give me. No longer scoffing when someone said something nice about my appearance or about the holiday party I’d put on for the office, I made myself soak the comments in and agree I was worthy of the praise.
Easier said than done. But after a couple of weeks, I noticed it was getting easier to find something good about myself. At least until the Tuesday morning I got out of bed and realized I’d started my period. I sobbed for ten full minutes with a mix of relief and sadness at this evidence that I wasn’t pregnant. In the end, I knew it was for the best. But the funny thing about emotions is they don’t always want to listen to logic.
I waited until I arrived in the office to get up the nerve to text Mark.
“I got my period this morning.”
Watching while those ominous little dots appeared on my phone, I waited for what he might say. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to hoping that over the last couple weeks Mark might have recognized his feelings were deeper than he’d realized. That somehow my leaving would’ve triggered something more for him. But his response slammed the door shut on any hope I might’ve had left.
“Thanks for letting me know.”
* * *
Over the nextcouple of days, I kept plenty busy with both my job and trying to get everything done with the house before it was officially sold. Although I acknowledged the hurt from Mark’s text, I also refused to dwell on it. After work, I’d go straight to my old house for at least an hour each evening and set things into three categories: donate, save, and sell. Although I didn’t have a lot of money to spend on new furniture, I’d rather sit on the floor than be reminded of Rob’s favorite place on the sofa or where we used to have our family dinners. This meant most of our things were going. I’d already boxed up all of his clothing and personal belongings for his parents, only holding onto a few things I wanted to give Tristan someday.
I made sure to be back at my mom’s house before bath and bedtime each night. Afterward, I would fall into bed exhausted. The packing certainly did wonders for helping me feel proactive about closing a chapter. It also helped to keep my mind off of Mark. Every time I was tempted to call him, I realized I couldn’t afford the risk of having him break my fragile self-esteem again. Not when I was just gaining it back.
Three days before Christmas while I was sorting through the mail, Sheila, our receptionist, came running into my office. “Juliette, I have Mr. Singer on line four. He says it’s urgent he find Brian. Do you know where he is?”
