“How kind.”
He doesn’t smile this time. “Underneath this rough, I-hate-myself-and-everyone-around-me exterior is a good guy. And I think that you have the ability to accomplish great things if you just start forgiving yourself.”
“For what?”
“I think you know what.”
“Well, you’re so keen on giving personal opinions, why don’t you tell me,” I snap.
He doesn’t. Instead he grabs his pen, leans back in his chair and clicks a couple times. “Sometimes the person we think we’ll become is the person we already are, and the person we truly become is the person we least expect.” He clicks his pen again and points it at me. “There’s your fortune cookie wisdom.”
I think he’s telling me that I have a chance. That the life I imagined—where I become the self-loathing man behind a desk, where I become my father—doesn’t have to be the one meant for me. I want to take the leap while my mind is clear, while I can see an alternative future that doesn’t look as grim. I want Lily. A house. The white picket fence kind of happiness. I didn’t ever think I deserved that, but maybe, one day, I can become the kind of person that does.
I shift in my seat, but I don’t break his gaze. “I went to see my mother. My real mother,” I tell him.
His head tilts, but his face has gone blank again. This time, I don’t feel like punching him for his lack of reaction. I just talk.
It pours out of me like I’ve carved open my stomach. Every word makes me lighter and freer.
I don’t stop.
{ 50 }
LILY CALLOWAY
The next morning, Lo and I head to his office. He shares all the details about his mother, and he lets me hug him whenever I reach out. While I can’t physically relate to a parent abandoning me, I understand what it feels like to want your mother to love you and not receiving the same affection in return.
He sinks into his leather chair, and I hesitate to bring up what happened with Dr. Evans so soon after his emotional reconnection with Emily. It’s why I didn’t mention it on the phone last night. Last thing I wanted was to instill guilt and have him break his sobriety. （He admitted to sitting in the parking lot of a bar—I knew it.）
I skim the comic books on his shelf while he works on a couple contracts. A guy who runs another indie publishing company has been giving Lo advice, so every week Lo grows more confident about the job. He even talks about hiring a partner to help with all the areas he’s weak in. And that idea, of asking someone for help, doesn’t make him balk in detest.
I’m supposed to be unpacking boxes downstairs at Superheroes & Scones, so my lingering presence must catch Lo’s attention. “You okay, Lil?”
I pull a She-Hulk comic off the shelf and focus on the cover while I speak. “I actually decided to go back to Allison for therapy. And my father is okay with it. He says it won’t break the deal.” He also told me that he’ll be filing a lawsuit against Dr. Evans. Hopefully, I helped some other girl that could have been harassed.
“Fuck,” he curses. “I forgot to ask you about your last session with…” He trails off, and I meet his eyes that have grown as big as saucers.
“I’m glad I went,” I tell him. “I would have never fired him otherwise.”
“What the fuck did he do?”
I hug the comic to my chest like a pillow, letting it give me some sort of strength. “He wanted me to masturbate while he shocked me,” I say very quickly.
Lo grips the table, his eyes turning into pure fury.
“But I said no! And then he didn’t like that so he unzipped his pants.”
Lo jumps to his feet. I drop the comic and rush to stop him from leaving the room.
My hands press to his chest. “I said no, Lo,” I say proudly. “I screamed it, and then I screamed for Garth. Everything worked out fine.”
“Everything is not fine,” Lo tells me, hurt caressing his amber eyes. “Fine would be you never having to deal with that sick fuck.”
“It’s over,” I say. “My father is handling it. I don’t want to keep dwelling about every bad thing that happens to us. I want to move on. Don’t you?” I’m ready to start the newest chapter of our lives. One where we’re not assaulted by our vices. One where we’re happy.
His shoulders slacken and his hands rise to my cheeks. “Are you okay?” he asks, searching my eyes for the truth.
“I feel strong,” I say. “I know that’s probably weird.”