Page 56 of Perfect Satisfaction

We grin at each other, the pain of the moment being temporarily forgotten as I recall the humor of being caught flirting by my brother.

Then the pain crashes over me. Tears well up and fall. “He was supposed to be my anchor and he set me adrift.”

“I can’t imagine a world where Ward did that to me.”

Sniffling, I use our joined hands to wipe my nose and our fingers brush my nose ring—with its red gem. “This was supposed to be a symbol of who we were and who we were supposed to be. Instead, it’s a hole I can’t fill.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re not supposed to forget your first love, Sula. Maybe your next love is supposed to overshadow it.”

“I don’t plan on falling in love again.”

“Sula,” she scolds me.

“No, I’m serious. What more does love have to offer me? I’m already loved by people who would die for me. That’s enough to be satisfied with.”

“Then what do you want to do about Arek?”

“I want it to be over. The day of my father’s funeral, there was a picture of him out with Liza on JB’s desk. All I could think of was—forgiveness. I have to forgive myself for loving a man like my father.” I tell her about my one request of Brendan and JB—how they both swore they’d support whatever it took for me to get over him. “I need these feelings to go away, Ang.”

“Is it because he betrayed me or because you saw the man you gave your heart to in magazines with another woman?”

Trust Angie to cut through to the truth. “Truth?”

“Always.”

“If you’d have been able to forgive him, I might have.”

She wraps her arms around me. “That’s what I thought. Have I ever told you how strong I think you are, Sula?”

“I’m so far from that, my friend. I haven’t told you the worst part.”

“What’s that?”

“He believes I’m dating JB.” Quickly I outline everything the attorneys have told me thus far.

Now it’s Angie who scoffs. “Oops. If he only knew he was accusing you of sleeping with your brother.”

“I hate them, Angie. I hate them both.” I struggle to sit up and wrap my arms around my legs.

She does the same. “You have every right, but you have plenty of people who do love you, Sula.” Then she asks something I’ve often wondered. “Would you take him back knowing...”

“That he’s slept with someone else? I—”

“Think before you answer.”

“How can I trust him? How can I trust myself?”

“Redemption doesn’t have a time limit. Neither does love,” she reminds me gently, bringing us back around to what started this conversation.

My dream.

I describe how I ran into him at the nightclub owned by Marco Houde and Louie Scott. “I don’t know what I would do if that actually happened.”

“How often do you dream of him?”

Stubbornly, I refuse to answer until she snaps, “Sula?”

“Always. I dream of him, of us. I don’t talk about it. I can’t.”