Page 59 of Not Just Gal Pals

“Yeah. For six weeks after the accident, I was her primary caregiver. I kept my suspicions to myself. It was excruciating, but I didn’t want to ask her about it until she’d recovered enough to live by herself. Because I knew if she confirmed my fears, I’d find it even harder to keep caring for her. But I wasn’t going to leave her when she needed help.” I’d felt sick to my stomach for those six weeks, worrying about Grace’s health and about us.

I continued, my voice flat. “When she could walk again, I asked her about it. She confirmed she’d been having an affair with Bec for almost six months and left the next day.”

“Shit. I’m so sorry, Blake. That really sucks.” Jenny stroked my hair.

“Yeah.”

It had more than really sucked. I loved Grace. But it wasn’t just that. I’d planned my life around her, so much so it felt like I’d lost a lot more than just a relationship. I’d lost a future family, a business, shared hopes and dreams. Moving on had involved a massive grieving process that lasted a long time—well over a year. And the most annoying thing was that this had happened to me before, albeit less dramatically, with Anna and Hanh. At around the two- or three-year mark, when I had my life planned out with each of them, they’d left, leaving me reeling. Anna to work with Doctors Without Borders in South Sudan. Hanh because she didn’t think I was “the one.” I hadn’t learned from my experiences with Anna and Hanh, but after Grace, I sure as hell never wanted to be in that position again. I didn’t want to rely on someone else for my happiness. I wanted to be independent, self-sufficient.

The irony of it struck me. And yet, here I was, tied to a bed. And until we’d started this rather heavy conversation, I’d actually been enjoying myself—although I should probably ask Jenny to take off the handcuffs, which were digging into my wrists a little. I realized Jenny was staring at me, and I hadn’t actually gotten to the tattoo part yet.

“Sorry. So I left that afternoon, and a few weeks later, I got the tattoo. After that experience, I decided I’d rather stay single. So I got a bald eagle, soaring through the sky, because bald eagles fly alone.” I didn’t bother mentioning this was the third time in a row something like that had happened.

“Oh.” An expression of something—was it disappointment, or hurt?— flickered across Jenny’s face.

Anxiety welled up inside me. Shit. I needed to say something, to explain how Jenny fit into everything I’d just told her, but I wasn’t sure I knew either. Despite us being casual, it didn’t feel like I was flying alone anymore, and I hated to admit…I was loving it.

“It definitely wasn’t my finest life choice getting a tattoo immediately after a bad breakup, breakup bangs would have been a less permanent decision, but I’ve come to—”

The doorbell rang.

We froze.

Who the hell could that be? I wasn’t expecting anyone, and it was late for visitors to show up without warning, which, honestly, I didn’t think was okay at any time of the day.

“Maybe they’ll just go away?” Jenny asked hopefully.

Bang, bang. Now they were knocking on the door.

I groaned. “Shit, it could be one of my patients having an emergency. I’d better get up and check. Can you uncuff me?”

Jenny grabbed the key off the side table, crawled up to the head of the bed, and started to fiddle with the handcuffs.

And fiddle. And fiddle.

Panic rose in my chest, pulling it tight.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I can’t unlock them,” Jenny said after what felt like minutes.

The bangs on the door continued. The person was getting impatient.

“Crap. Do you mind seeing who it is?”

Jenny nodded, jumping off the bed, pulling on her clothes, and running out of the room. I remembered thinking at the bachelorette party that the handcuffs weren’t very good quality, but that observation had completely fled my mind. An image of the entire Sapphire Springs volunteer fire department standing around me sprawled naked on the bed, shaking their heads in judgment before they freed me from the handcuffs, popped uninvited into my head. I drew in a deep, calming breath. Jenny will sort this out.

The sound of the door opening provided a welcome distraction. I listened intently, hoping to god it wasn’t someone who needed urgent medical attention. Another image of me trying to assess the patient’s condition while naked and tied to a bed appeared.

Why the hell didn’t I ask Jenny to pull the duvet over me so I wasn’t so exposed?

“Oh hello, Jenny. I thought someone was home. Is Blake here?” a woman asked.

I sighed. I recognized that voice. It was my neighbor and former English teacher, Mrs. Harding. She’d been one of my favorite teachers in high school, although she was very old school, and she liked to talk. A lot. She was in good shape, so at least it was unlikely she was in need of medical attention. More likely she was feeling lonely and had popped over for a chat.

“Um, no, sorry, she’s not available at the moment.” Jenny sounded awkward, in a rather suspicious manner. I hoped Mrs. Harding didn’t pick up on that and barge in here, worried Jenny had done away with me.

“Not available?” Mrs. Harding sounded confused.

“Yes, she’s, um, indisposed.”