Out On a Limb(71)

She opens the door to Caleb’s office and shoves me through it. “Tell me everything.”

“Literally nothing has happened, Sarah,” I say, taking a few steps to get my balance after being pushed. “Would you calm down? Fucking hell.”

“There was a look. I saw it.” She points to her eyes in a fury.

“What look?” I ask, falling across the two-seater couch across from Caleb’s desk in front of a dark oak–panelled wall.

“You two walked in, and Bo looked toward the table where we set everything up. Then he checked in with you. A tilt of his head and a sweet little smile, then you nodded. He was getting permission to walk over there. That’s the look of a man on someone’s leash. Pussy-whipped!”

“You did not just say pussy-whipped. Please, please, please tell me you didn’t,” I say, covering my face.

“So you do not deny,” Sarah says, dropping into Caleb’s chair and throwing her feet up onto the desk in the centre of the room.

“I do deny. The most we’ve done since Halloween is hug.” Dancing is hugging, just extended, right? It doesn’t count.

Sarah’s eyes narrow on me in suspicion. “You do give great hugs,” she whispers. “But not that good.”

“Bo’s thoughtful. He was just making sure I was cool before he ditched me to see his friends. Simple as that.”

“So you’re telling me that I haven’t seen you in forty years”—it’s been twelve days—“because you’ve been held up in your house with him not boinking?”

I choose to let her use of the word boinking slide. “We’ve been hanging out,” I say defensively. “We go for walks to the water to talk. We hang out on the couch and watch nerdy movies that Bo likes. I’m also still working and growing a human. So yes, that’s all we’ve been doing. Sorry to disappoint.”

“How much talking do y’all need to do until you figure it out?”

I level her with a fierce glare. “We had to get to know each other, right? That was the whole fucking point of moving in together.”

“And?” Sarah asks.

“And what?”

“Do you know each other?” She throws her arms up, apparently exasperated.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And what?” I snap, crossing my arms in front of my chest tightly.

“Is he a good guy?”

“Yes, obviously.”

“And?”

“Oh my god, what now?”

“Do you feel safe with him?”

“Yes.”

“So?”

“So what?” I yell.

“Are you in love with him?”

“Yes!”

Wait, what?

“No!” I say, panic-stricken. “No, no, no—” But it’s too late. Sarah is up from her seat, slapping the desk with both palms like a drum.

“Vindication!” she shouts, her hands like claws pointed at the ceiling.

“Shut up,” I whisper, rubbing my forehead. “Please,” I beg pathetically. “Don’t.”

“I was right,” she says, sitting back down. “Winnifred McNulty is in love.”

“Sarah, I love him, but I’m not in love with him.”

“Bullshit,” she spits, shaking her head.

“I mean it,” I say, my voice involuntarily pitching higher. “I mean it,” I repeat, steadier.

Sarah narrows her eyes on me, swiping her tongue across her teeth under closed lips. “Okay, then. Let’s play worst-case scenario.”

“Why?” I sigh out.

“Humour me,” she says, pushing the wheeled desk chair around the room until she’s directly across from me, our knees almost touching. She’s ridiculous but entertaining. I’ll give her that. “Worst-case scenario—a year from now. Baby is happy and healthy. Just think about you. Tell me; no hesitation.”

“Um…” I immediately hesitate.

“No!” She flicks the side of my head, and I swat her away. “Just speak!”

Fuck.

“This is stupid,” I say, tightening my arms across my chest.

“You’re being a child. Grow up and face your feelings. You love Bo. You’re in love with Bo. Admit it.”

“No!”

“Why?” she yells.

“I was hurt, Sarah. I was hurt so badly, and you don’t even know the half of it.” The moment the words leave me, all the breath in my lungs goes with them.

“So tell me, Win. Fucking tell me so we can work through it. I’ve been asking for years what happened. Or tell someone. Anyone. A professional, preferably. Or, Bo, maybe—since he should know.”

“He made me feel small” is all I manage to say, tears threatening to pour. “Jack made me feel small and stupid and incapable, and I never want to feel that way again. I gave him my self-esteem on a goddamn silver platter, and like a fucking idiot, I was surprised when he took it and ate me whole.”

“Jack is a fuckwad who will burn every bridge he ever builds. You are not any of those things, Win.”

“Yeah, I know that now. It took me all these years since Jack to remember who I am and what I’m not. I don’t… I don’t want to forget again.”