“What did you do?” Alex questioned.
“I told him I loved him, because I thought that’s what he needed to hear.”
“Did you say it like that?” Nolan asked.
“Like what?”
“Like you were only saying it, not feeling it.”
“Jesus!” I set my coffee cup down with a thud, some of it sloshing over the side. “What is with you people? I do feel it, OK? I love him. Am I supposed to sing it? Cry tears of joy? Shoot a rainbow out of my ass? That’s just not me.” I went over to the counter to get some paper towel.
“No, I don’t think you need to do any of those things,” Nolan said. “I just think you need to say it because you mean it, not because it’s what he wants to hear. What was his reaction?”
“He said he didn’t believe me. No, wait.” As I mopped up the spill, I tried to think back to what his words had been. My memory was foggy. “I don’t think he said he didn’t believe me. He said I was lying, but not to him. To myself.”
“About what?” Alex asked.
I focused on my hands. “About…about the reason I pulled away from him. He said it wasn’t because I was scared we wouldn’t last; it’s because I’m scared we would.”
“And are you?”
“I don’t know.” Now I was lying to them too. “Maybe.”
“Why would that scare you?” Nolan looked at me like I was one of his patients. Sometimes it was really annoying that he was a therapist and so good at sussing out the truth behind feelings.
“Because I’ll fuck it up!” I burst out, surprising even myself. “It’s inevitable. And he deserves better.”
Alex looked a little shocked, but Nolan barely reacted. “So it will be you that hurts him?”
“Maybe,” I said, fighting tears and nausea. “I mean, not on purpose. But he kept talking about all these things that love involves—trust and apologies and fights and forgiveness and sacrifice—I mean, what if I don’t have it in me?”
“Don’t you think you do?”
“OK, enough with the therapy-speak.” I threw the soaked paper towel away and sat down again. “I get what you’re trying to do, but the thing is, there are no for-sure answers to these questions.”
“You’re right,” Alex said quietly. “There aren’t.”
We both looked at him.
“Then what’s the secret? Tell me, please. How do you make promises to someone when you don’t know what the future holds?”
Alex shrugged. “There is no secret. There is no magic, Jaime. No way to tell what the future looks like. The point is that you’re willing to take the chance anyway. You’re willing to say, I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know I want you with me on this journey.”
“Exactly,” agreed Nolan. “It’s not as if Alex and I know something you don’t. We love each other and work hard at this. And he was just as reluctant as you are to commit to forever.”
“You were?” I looked at my brother, surprised.
“At first, I was,” said Alex. “I never wanted to be married. I thought, ‘What’s the point?’ We’ll just end up hating each other. Doesn’t everyone?”
“Yes! So how did you get over that?” I propped my heavy, aching head in my hand.
“I weighed my feelings for him against my fears, and in the end, I decided what scared me most was the thought of a life without him.”
Nolan reached out and took his hand. “Oh honey, that’s so sweet. Does that mean we can have the doves?”
“No,” Alex said firmly. “No doves.”
Nolan sighed. “Anyway, Jaime, does that help at all?”
“I guess so. I mean, seeing how happy you guys are makes me think maybe there’s a chance for me, but…” I took a breath. “I have to figure out how to open myself up to it. I’ve guarded against it so long that it feels like I’m trying to get in the game when I’ve been skipping practice.”
“Ask yourself the hard questions, and don’t be afraid of the answers,” Alex said. “Remember we are not our parents. Be open to every possibility. That’s my advice.”
“It’s good advice.” Nolan patted his hand. “And you know, Jaime, there’s no shame in talking to a therapist about this stuff. Not me, of course, but I can give you a name of someone I think would be good for you.”
“Thanks, I think that might be a good idea. And thanks for letting me crash here. I definitely drank too much.”
“Happens to everyone. Just don’t let it happen at the wedding,” Alex warned. “I’m not dragging your sorry ass home that night.”
I smiled. “You won’t have to.”
“And maybe find a different hairstylist.” Nolan wrinkled his nose and waved a hand at my head. “The whole emo thing isn’t really working for you.”
I threw a muffin at him. But I felt a little bit better.
In the next week, I did a lot of soul searching. I made an appointment with the therapist Nolan recommended, a woman named Jenna, who helped me sift through my feelings. We talked a lot that first session about my childhood and how my mom and dad’s marriage and parenting style had affected me. She felt that those things had had a bigger impact on me than I realized, and after talking about it, I agreed.