“Nothing much.”
“Geez, girl. It’s always ‘nothing much’ with you. When the hell are you going to have some good gossip for me?”
“Not everyone is a gossip slut like you,” I tell her, laughing.
“Hey, now. I’m not a gossip.”
“Sure you aren’t.” Maggie knows everything about everyone, and because of her, I know things about people I have never even met in my life—and a lot of those things are details I wish I never, ever knew.
“I can’t help it if people want to open up to me. I’m like Dr. Phil or Oprah.”
“This is true,” I say as I lie down on the couch, and I can’t help but laugh when I think about the position I’m in.
“What’s so funny?”
“Well, Dr. Phil, I met someone, and I’m now sprawled on my couch, so you wanna shrink me?”
“What?!” I hear the shock in her voice. Maggie has been trying to get me to date for years, but I have never felt comfortable with anyone before. That’s why it surprises me that Nico—Mr. Tattoo—is the one to make me feel this way. “Well, spill it, girl. Who is he? Tell me everything!”
“His name is Nico, and he is gorgeous, funny, and sweet. He asked me out and I turned him down, but then the last two days, he’s been waiting for me by my car with ice cream when I got out of work.”
“But you turned him down?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re going out with him?”
“Well, tomorrow he’s coming over for dinner,” I clarify.
“Holy shit,” she whispers, knowing how big this is for me.
“I know,” I whisper back, smiling.
“Girl, I’m so happy for you. Even if things don’t work out with him, I’m glad you’re at least going to get out of that bubble you’ve placed yourself in and try to live a little.”
“Well, I don’t even know what I’m doing, and I doubt he will stick around for long after he realizes I’m a crazy, but I want to see what happens,” I tell her, meaning it from the bottom of my soul.
“You’re not crazy, Sophie. You had a traumatic experience. You just need to realize you’re not broken and that the past has made you a stronger person. I love you, and Devon loves you. You deserve to be happy.”
“I’m happy,” I say, feeling a little defensive.
“I know you think you’re happy, honey, but you’ve been locking yourself up for way too long. Living a life in solitude is not happiness.”
“I’ve gotten better,” I whine.
“You have. I agree,” she concedes.
“I just need time,” I add quietly.
“You’ve had plenty of time, girl,” she says, sounding frustrated.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask exasperatedly.
“I want you to talk to someone about what happened.”
“I talk to you.”
“I know you’ve told me everything, but this is something I can’t help you with. You need to talk to someone who deals with this kind of thing,” she says gently.
“Maybe I shouldn’t go out with him until I figure things out for myself,” I say, my stomach pitching. The feeling surprises me, making me realize I how much I do want to see him again.
“Do not use your past as an excuse to not live your life. This guy is the first one you have been interested in. To me, that says it all. Date him and see what happens. Maybe you can open up to him about your past, but while you’re doing that, find a professional to talk to as well.”
“I know you’re right, but I’m afraid,” I admit.
“Which tells me you’re still living in that moment. Honey, that was years ago. Yes, it was a horrible thing that happened to you, but luckily it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.”
Her words make me shudder, but I know she’s right. I think my mom’s death and the events that happened after I lost her are still plaguing me. It’s hard to get close to people when you realize how quickly they can be taken away.
“I know it could have been a lot worse, and I need to start living again… I just don’t know how.”
“One day at a time. Every day, push yourself to do something you’re afraid of. And find a group or a counselor to talk to!” She practically yells the last part.
“I’ll try,” I promise.
“Don’t try. Do.”
“Okay.” I sigh.
“So, are you still coming home for your fitting?” she asks, changing the subject.
“Yes.” I smile. “And my dress better not be ugly.”
“Girl, you should know by now your dress is going to be hideous. I do not want you to outshine me at my own wedding.”
“Like that could ever happen.” I laugh.
Maggie is one of the most beautiful people I know. Her long, lean body with skin the color of dark chocolate makes her honey-colored eyes pop; that, along with her long reddish-brown hair she has kept in thin dreadlocks since she was little, makes her even more exotic-looking.
“Oh please, girl. You know you’re hot,” she says, growling the end.
“I love you,” I tell her, feeling tears sting my eyes.
“You know I love you too, girl. Okay, enough of this mushy shit. Tomorrow, when this guy leaves, I expect you to call me and tell me every detail.”