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I can’t move off the couch even though I have too much to do.
That email needs to be printed and put in the evidence binder that I thought I’d never have to use again.
You never should have let that restraining order expire.
That commercial was a mistake and you knew it. You were just too weak to say no.
Leo could be in danger now, and it’s all your fault.
The glass falls from my hand and shatters on the floor.
“I never should have let that PR woman bully me into doing that promo. I should have known it would draw attention to me. I’m so stupid. He’s going to come here and he’s never going to leave me alone until that stupid video gets taken down, and I can’t make them do that. They’d laugh me out of the office for even asking. Then he’ll get mad and it will just get worse and worse, and it’s only a matter of time before he has one of his employees search public records and find where I live.
“One of the biggest reasons I moved out was so he’d have a harder time finding me. What am I going to do when he knows where I live? I’ll have to move or go into hiding at a women’s shelter. I can’t go back there again. I swore that Leo would never set foot in one of those places.”
“Hold on. Slow your roll. I think I’m missing some information here. I’m guessing that he had something to do with that notification on your phone. Are you able to take some deep breaths with me and then start from the beginning?”
A flash of irritation flickers in the back of my mind at her overly coddling tone. I stuff it down, though, because she’s only trying to help me.
I always appreciate her help. Really, I do, but there are times where she talks to me like I’m a child rather than an adult with her own child. Just because I have panic attacks doesn’t make me any less of a mature adult.
Then I feel ungrateful. She’s helped me so much and sacrificed so much time to help me recover, and here I am, being upset with her for trying to help me.
Maybe there really is something wrong with me.
I take a long, slow breath and pull up the email.
“It’s going to be easier if you just read it for yourself,” I say, handing her the phone.
Her face pales as she reads through it.
Just knowing what’s in the email is enough to send my spiraling into a panic.
My stomach churns.
I feel exposed.
The condo suddenly feels too big. The windows are too clear. I just know Kyle is watching me.
“Wow. That’s some serious delusion he’s got going on there, but I don’t think he’s going to come here. It’s probably just an empty threat.”
Her tone is cheerful, but there’s fear in her eyes. The hand not holding the phone is clenched so tightly, her knuckles are white.
It’s obvious she’s not even close to okay. Mom’s just doing her best not to show me how anxious she is, and I love her for it.
I know she won’t be able to handle the new wave of panic that’s welled up inside me.
I’ve caused enough trouble for everyone today, so I do what I learned from my time with Kyle and just put a pause on my panic.
I do it slowly, just like I did with him, so she thinks it’s a natural de-escalation. Every feeling, every last little part of me goes right in a box until I’m nothing at all.
“What if he is serious?” I ask.
“Then we keep documenting just like we did last time. It also might be a good idea to limit your outings, take alternate routes, keep your location turned on and—” She takes a deep breath. “Sweetheart, I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to tell them the truth. Your father’s been texting me every few minutes to check on you. He said they didn’t seem to have a clue about what went on with your ex. They didn’t even know you had panic attacks. Why are you keeping this from them?”
“It’s not their problem. It’s mine.”
“Avery Marie, it is abundantly clear that those men adore you. Your father sees it and so do I. He’s even told me that they didn’t relax until they knew you were safe at home. They seem like good, honest men, and you make each other happy. At the end of the day, that’s all that’s important to us.
