Page 74 of Songs for Libby

“You and I,” he said, taking one of my hands in his. “We made a lot of mistakes trying to take care of each other.” He rubbed his thumb into my palm. “We should probably work on talking through all of it.” His words were spoken like someone who had been in therapy for a long time.

I nodded reluctantly.

“It’s going to be hard.”

I nodded again. I knew that much.

♪♫♪

The last few days had been complicated. Difficult and wonderful all at the same time. Sean’s therapist had agreed to do a video session with both of us. She asked the right questions and pushed back when she needed to. Sean and I aired a lot of grievances and made a lot of apologies in those two hours. We were lucky that we were both in a place where we wanted the truth. We wanted the closure. We wanted to move on. That session put our friendship into a new gear, and it felt good.

On my lunch break, I sent Sean a list of groceries and told him to put on his best I’m-not-a-celebrity outfit and pick them up for me. His response was, Your wish is my command.

It was odd to know that he meant it.

When I got home, the house was empty. I slumped into the couch, wondering if he would show up with enough time for me to execute my secret plan.

I slipped my shoes off and pulled one foot onto my knee, rubbing my arch. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be able to do this once I reached the end of my pregnancy. It was weird to think about all the little things I had to adjust in order to accommodate my little womb-gremlin.

I heard a muffled voice at my back door just before Sean walked in. He was on the phone. He grinned at me, even as he kept talking. “No, I’m doing good work here, probably better than when I was home.”

He sat on the other side of the couch as he listened to the response, then, “Yeah, you don’t have to worry about that. Libby’s keeping me on my toes.” He winked at me.

I rolled my eyes. He must have been talking to Randy.

“Uh-huh,” he said, continuing to listen.

I leaned back against the armrest and put my feet up on the couch, then reached out to poke his leg with my toes.

He raised his eyebrows in question, so I nudged his free hand with my foot and batted my eyelashes at him.

He rolled his eyes, but immediately pinned his phone between his cheek and his shoulder before taking my foot in hand, pushing both thumbs into the center.

I lay the side of my head on the back of the couch and closed my eyes, half listening to the constant stream of mm-hmm, and right, but mostly just enjoying the foot rub.

Sean eventually cut Randy off. “Look, you’re just going to have to trust me, okay? I know what I’m doing, but I need to go now. Libby needs help with something.”

I snorted at his half-truth.

“Understood. Bye, Randy.” He ended the call and then went right back to rubbing my feet. “You are Little Miss Demanding today, aren’t you?”

I just smiled, grateful for the solid footing we had found in our friendship. “It’s the nugget’s fault.”

“Nugget, huh?”

“Yup. She’s my golden nugget.”

“So, you want to tell me what the mystery grocery list was for?”

My grin could probably have been described as evil. “I’m going to teach you how to cook.”

He threw his head back and laughed out loud. “I love that you looked so villainous making that pronouncement.”

“Not villainous.” I wiggled my foot, reminding him to keep rubbing. “Just selfish.”

“Ah,” he said. “So I’m acquiring these skills to serve you, huh?”

“Yes. But also it’s just good to know how to make a few things.”