Heart Conditions (The Breakup Doctor Series Book 3) (20 page)

“I…I have a client who’s going through something right now,” I said hesitantly. If I said “a friend,” Ben would immediately guess who I was talking about.

He said nothing, just held my gaze as intimately as if he were touching me.

“My…client,” I said at last, “has a big decision to make. And she’s really scared, and that’s making it hard for her to see what she really wants.” More tears crested the bottom of my eyes and I roughly swiped them away. “And I think she’s about to make the wrong choice, one that might hurt someone I…someone she really cares about. She might hurt her
self
.”

“What do you mean, the wrong choice?”

I looked up, confused that he’d asked a question with such an obvious answer. “The one that won’t make her happy,” I explained. “The one she’ll regret.”

Ben’s eyebrows drew together. “How do you know which one that is?”

I blinked, momentarily stymied. I couldn’t tell him how I knew, because then I’d have to reveal that I was talking about Sasha, who I knew as well as I knew myself. I knew she’d always dreamed of commitment and love and security, and of being part of a family of her own. I knew she loved my brother like no one else she’d ever been with, and that if something happened to the two of them, it might break her in a way she’d never be able to repair herself from.

Except…I thought of the way Stu had been with her ever since this had started. Supportive. Loving. Yes, my brother was totally on board for marriage and kids in a way I’d never imagined. But I remembered how he’d reacted at Sticks and Stones, even when she was expressing deep-seated doubts that I’d thought would tear out his heart. He’d moved
toward
her, not away. Wrapped his arm around her to support her, literally and figuratively. Stu, I realized in a flash of insight, was totally on board with Sasha no matter
what
she decided—because he loved her, and all he wanted was for her to be happy.

It was me who was trying so hard to get her to do what
I
thought was best for her.

Ben was right: How could I possibly presume to know what that was?

Suddenly I saw it: Sasha already
had
everything she’d dreamed of. The kind of unconditional love she’d always wanted from Stu, who would clearly stand beside her no matter what came. Being part of a family she could call her own—me and my parents and my brother. She didn’t need a ring or a baby to make those dreams come true. Those were
my
dreams for her.

Hot shame flooded over me in a wave so strong I felt sick with it. I leaned forward onto propped elbows, sinking my head into my palms, covering my face.

That was exactly what I’d done with Ben, too. I’d been so caught up in what I wanted, in my dreams for our future, I hadn’t even considered what he wanted. What was best for him.

That wasn’t love. That was just selfish need.

Maybe he was happier with Pamela than he’d ever been with me.

I breathed heavily into my cupped palms, my eyes closed, wishing I could disappear. Or that Ben would. Wishing I could sink into the ground and have it close back over me.

“Brook…” Ben said quietly after a long time, and I knew the universe hadn’t answered my prayer to be swallowed up and vanish.

“I just wanted to fix this,” I said brokenly into my hands, talking about Sasha. Talking about Ben and me.

“That’s one of the nicest things about you, Brook. You always want to help the people you care about.”

I looked up, meeting his dark hazel eyes that were still focused on me with warmth and concern, no trace of the contempt I deserved, and I fought a wave of fresh tears.

He smiled gently, reaching across the table. “And you care about everyone.”

I yanked my hand out of reach, rejecting the comfort I didn’t deserve. “If that were true then I wouldn’t try to push people into what I think is best,” I said thickly.

Ben pulled his arm back, watching me with a shadow in his eyes I couldn’t read. “Sometimes that’s the hardest part about loving someone. Doing nothing. Just standing back and letting things take their course.”

It was so easy for me to know that in therapy—that I could do what I could to help clarify things, but then I had let a client find the way to his or her own personal truth. And yet in my own life I did the exact opposite. As Ben had just said, I had to stop trying to control things I had no power over, no right to control, and stand back and let things take their course. My heart like a brick in my chest, I slumped backward, and Jake arrowed under the table and plopped his head in my suddenly available lap. I stroked his ears, comforting myself as much as him. I took a deep breath in, let it out. And then once more.

“Thanks for listening, Ben,” I finally said when I could trust my voice. “You’ve always been a good friend to me. Even after…” I stopped, avoiding our past by instinct, until I realized that I needed to face up to that too. “Even after I hurt you. I never meant to do that, and I’m so sorry for it.”

Something passed over his face that I couldn’t read. “I know that, Brook. You told me.”

“I know I said it at the time. I just want you to know…I’ve done a lot of thinking about it since then.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing. I’ve spent time thinking about it too. You were right—technically we weren’t together at the time, and—”

I slashed a hand through the air as if to cut his words, needing to say this to him. “Technically doesn’t matter. I was so messed-up then, and I don’t even think I realized how much. I…I broke a trust between us. It was stupid, and I regret it…so much.”

“You were honest with me, Brook. You told me you weren’t ready for anything serious.”

“That didn’t mean I had to…” I hated saying it out loud, bringing up the specter of Chip Santana and my stupid hookup with him. For so long I wished I could undo it, pretend it had never happened, but the reason I was sitting across a table from this man having this awkward conversation, instead of happily in a committed relationship with him, as he’d wanted at the time, as I desperately wanted now, was because it had. I couldn’t keep overlooking my own shortcomings and mistakes.

“It didn’t mean I had to betray you,” I forced out. “What we were to each other.”

Heat flooded my face and it was hard to meet Ben’s gaze. But I owed him that. I owed him the knowledge that I had finally accepted responsibility for the choices I’d made, realized that, whether we were technically together at the time or not, I’d broken faith with something important between us.

I dragged my eyes up to his, to find him steadily looking at me, no anger or judgment in his gaze, only something deep and unfathomable that I couldn’t interpret, but that filled me with sadness.

“I’ve already forgiven it, Brook. You’ve got to do the same thing.”

It was exactly what I’d told Michael.

“Ben,” I began. “The other night…downtown. When you saw me with…with Michael—”

He waved off my words. “You don’t owe me any explanation about that, Brook.”

“No, but I want to…He came back to town. Unexpectedly. And we talked. And I…” I looked down at the table. “I forgave him,” I said quietly. “Surprisingly.” I glanced up to where Ben was watching me with absolutely no expression.

“And he works in promotion now,” I went on, wanting desperately to make him understand—but what, I didn’t know. I didn’t understand myself what was going on between us. “He asked about trying to promote me—I mean, my business. The Breakup Doctor stuff. So we’re sort of working together at the moment.”

“Okay.”

I searched his eyes, but they were placid as the gulf at ebb tide. “Okay,” I said lamely. “I just…didn’t want you to be upset.”

“Is it any of my business, Brook?” he asked, eyes steady on me. “Who you date?”

I felt foolish. Of course it didn’t bother him. Why would it?

He was still staring at me, and I looked away, afraid that the expression I couldn’t read in his eyes might be pity.

“Brook?” he asked.

“No,” I said, and the effort it took to push my lips into a smile actually hurt. “I guess it isn’t.” I scooted away from the table and stood, a forlorn Jake gazing up at me disappointedly at the removal of my lap. “I’m going to…” I eked past the immovable object that was Jake, and Ben stood as I came around the table, making no move to stop me. I looked up, meeting his eyes.

“Can I ask you a question?” I blurted before I could change my mind.

“Sure.”

In the months since the awful morning after we broke up, when Ben had walked in on me and a shirtless Chip Santana in a horrible mute testimony of what we’d done, I’d wanted to know why he’d come to my house. The night before he’d been crystal-clear—he was ready for a serious relationship, and if I wasn’t then there was nothing more to say between us. His certainty about that was most of the reason I’d ended up with Chip that night in the first place—I’d been heartbroken to lose Ben, but given all the emotional upheaval I’d had in my life after Michael dumped me, and then Kendall, I hadn’t been ready to commit to something serious yet, no matter how much I loved Ben.

And yet not twelve hours later he’d come back, strolling into my backyard with Jake because I hadn’t answered the front door, that warm, pleased smile on his face that he’d always worn whenever he’d seen me. At least, until he caught sight of a half-naked, tattooed Chip sitting beside me on the sofa on my back porch. In the terrible scene that had ensued, there was certainly no way to ask Ben why he’d come. And our recent rekindled friendship was too fragile for me to risk it by asking.

But what did I have to lose now?

“That day,” I began hesitantly, my face heating. “That morning on my porch…Why were you coming over?”

Something flickered over his face—a shadow of remembered pain, maybe, or anger. Maybe something softer—but that was probably wishful thinking on my part.

“I was coming to apologize,” he said, watching Jake scramble under the table to get closer to us. “I was wrong the night before. I forced you into a corner, and that wasn’t fair.” He cleared his throat and met my eye again. “The truth was, Brook, I would have taken you on any level you were ready for, and I was coming to make sure I didn’t lose you over some stupid ultimatum I gave in a knee-jerk moment of insecurity.”

Pain flooded over me in a wave so strong I physically felt the knife of it in my chest.

If I hadn’t called Chip that night in a blinding moment of rejection…If I hadn’t opened the door when he showed up in the middle of the night…If I’d been able to sit with my emotions for a change, instead of pushing them down, distracting myself from them the way I always had…If I’d waited out the anguish of losing Ben until the rational light of morning…

If.

I would have been standing here at his side, instead of across a vast uncrossable divide.

And Ben would be with
me
, instead of Pamela.

But love didn’t always mean things went exactly the way you wanted them to. I finally saw that now. It meant that even when it didn’t, you loved that person anyway, and supported what they wanted for
themselves
.

Even if it broke your heart.

“Thanks for telling me,” I murmured, emotion threatening to choke me. “I’d really better go.” I leaned over to give Jake’s silky head a few strokes. Then I gave myself one last moment of indulgence—stepping forward, I rested my hand in the familiar curve behind Ben’s head and for just a moment held my face to his neck, breathing him in, relishing the warmth of his arms that reflexively came around me until I pulled away.

“I’ll see you later,” I said softly, wondering, after everything, if I would.

twenty-three

When my doorbell rang later that night, I wasn’t surprised to see Sasha.

She looked wrecked, with tired circles beneath her eyes—atypically makeup-free—and pinched lines at the corners of her mouth. “Can I come in?” she asked hesitantly.

“Since when do you have to ask?”

I could see her biting the inside of her lip. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me…considering.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” I left her standing at the door and went to sit on the sofa along the front wall, and after a moment Sasha stepped inside and shut the door.

She stopped just inside the entryway, staring at my cocktail table, where I’d set out a tray with cheese and crackers, fruit, water, and a bottle of red wine. “Are you expecting company?”

“You,” I said, leaning forward to open the wine. “Come on in.”

The expression on her face would have been hilarious if the situation were different: Sasha looked confused, hopeful, and wary, like a wild mustang facing a cowboy with an apple in one hand and a lasso in the other.

“Lisa told me she talked to you,” she began, making no move to sit.

“She did. She offered me a raise.”

Sasha’s mouth dropped open in outrage. “Are you shitting me? She told me there was no money in the budget for raises!”

I gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I can’t help it if I’m indispensable.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “You realize they also give
me
a full benefits package and paid time off, right?”

I let a half-smile leak out. “I’m just teasing you. Lisa actually said you were her best reporter, and if she could find the money in the budget to keep you, she would.”

“
Lisa
said that? Holy shit. That’s like being knighted from anyone else.”

For a moment we were just us again, nothing between us but years of friendship, and we shared a grin across the room. Then Sash seemed to remember, and hers disappeared.

“She told me she told you,” she said. “Why aren’t you yelling at me?”

“Why aren’t you sitting?” I asked, holding out one of the two glasses of cabernet I’d poured.

One hand fluttered to her belly. “Wine? I don’t—”

“If you’ve made your decision, is it really going to matter anymore?” I asked as gently as I could.

Sasha blinked several times, and I saw her lips tremble. But finally she stepped forward, took the glass, and sat beside me. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she whispered. “About the job offer, I mean. I just…I needed time to think things out on my own. And I knew how you’d feel…what you’d say.” She broke my gaze and stared down into her wineglass, then finally raised it to her lips and took a sip.

Sasha didn’t know how clearly I could understand that; wasn’t that why I hadn’t told her about what happened with Michael, with Ben?

“I think you should take it.”

Wine went everywhere as she choked. “What?” she managed.

I calmly pulled a napkin from the tray and dabbed at the purple spatters all over my sofa and the white denim of my skinny jeans. “I know how important your career is to you, Sash. It’s a great opportunity. A much bigger paper in a much bigger market—” My voice had started to wobble, and I stopped to swallow a mouthful of my own wine, trying to steady it. “There’s no chance for advancement like that in this town. We both know that.”

Once again she narrowed a suspicious gaze on me. “What is this? Reverse psychology? Some kind of desensitization? What?”

I sighed and leaned forward to set my glass down on the tray. “This is me saying what I should have said all along. That you are the only one who knows the right thing for you. That I love you and want whatever you feel is best for you. That I will be standing right there beside you no matter what you choose.”

Her eyes filled with tears as I spoke. “How can you say that?” she asked, almost angrily. “I am
ruining
your family’s life!”

“Well,
someone
has a healthy sense of self-importance,” I said dryly.

“Stop it! Stop being so funny and nice to me! I don’t deserve it!”

“Hey!” I barked. “Get your shit together, Patterson.” My sharp tone stunned her tears dry, and she stared at me.

“Why are you yelling at me?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted!” I yelled. I torqued back my volume, but pushed ahead with what I’d been trying for hours to find the right words for. “Look…we all do the best we can with wherever we are at the moment. That didn’t used to be all that great for either one of us. But we’re not kids anymore. We’re getting better at this life crap—but sometimes there’s just no right answer, and all you can do is make the
rightest
choice.” I felt my own eyes growing hot with tears, and I resisted the urge to medicate them away with a distracting gulp of wine, keeping my eyes steady on Sasha’s. “I don’t know the rightest choice for you, Sash. No one does but you. But I know
my
rightest choice, and that’s to support you—no matter what. No matter what you need to do for
you
, in every way that counts you’re my sister, and that’s never going to change.”

Sasha let out a sudden sob, more wine sloshing over the sides of her glass onto the floor and my table as she blindly reached to set it down. I ignored the spill as she collapsed forward into my arms, and I held her while she cried.

“This is all I do anymore,” she sobbed into my shoulder. “I cry. I cry at everything. I cried at a Cialis commercial last night. Hormones!” she wailed. “I’m all mixed-up, Brook. I don’t know what to do. Please just tell me what to do!”

I let go, brushing away her tears with my thumbs the way Ben had done with me only hours ago, the memory knifing into my heart. “I can’t, Sash. No one can. But if you need someone to talk it out with, objectively…well, I’ll try.” I offered her an apologetic smile. “Or I can make some professional referrals.”

She gave a shaky laugh.

“Does Stu know about the job offer?” I asked carefully.

“I already told you, I tell him everything.”

She’d told Stu about this even when she couldn’t tell me. Stu and Sasha, I realized, despite their constant oversexed grab-assing and childish exploits, had one of the healthiest relationships I’d ever seen. I couldn’t help believing that no matter what happened, they’d make it through this together.

The days of my being the axis of our world of three were over, I knew in a rush, and from now on I’d always be just a little outside of their twosome.

But maybe that was the way it should be. As I’d said to Sasha, we weren’t children anymore, and it was time for all of us to grow up a little.

“I’m glad,” I told her genuinely. “You guys will figure things out together. And Sash, if you need me—for
anything
.” I nudged her with my shoulder. “I’m here.”

Sasha nodded tearfully, but I could already see her gathering herself back together. “Thanks, Brookie. That means everything.”

When she rose to leave, she seemed to take in the splotches of wine scattered all over my furniture and my person.

“Oh, crap…I’m sorry about the mess all over your house.”

I shrugged. “I sort of deserved it, after what I did to yours.”

“Agreed,” she said a little too vehemently.

I walked her to the door and we hugged before she let herself out into the cool orange blossom-scented evening.

Yes, it was time to grow up, I thought as I noticed her mostly untouched glass of wine still sitting on my cocktail table.

I finally knew better than to let it raise a childish flicker of hope.