The couch bounces on the other side of me and I turn to see Emmy sitting there. “And her friends are excited to get to know you better too,” she says, smiling at Ben.
I loop my arm through hers, pulling her close so that her thick, dark curls fall over my shoulder. “And it all makes me feel like the damned happiest and luckiest girl in the world,” I say with a wide grin at both my friend and my lover.
“I don’t doubt it,” Emmy says, eyes bright.
There’s a pleasant commotion at the food table. Kate has brought out a second bowl of punch — and Harry is pouring vodka into it, causing the other party-goers to line up for a drink.
“Isn’t that kind of a faux pas, to serve alcohol at a baby shower?” Emmy wrinkles her nose. “I mean, Amelia can’t have any.”
“Yeah, but there’s a non-alcoholic version.” I point at the first punch bowl. I glance at Amelia, who is laughing airily at something Tatum said. “She doesn’t look mad.”
“True,” Emmy concedes.
Ben gets up. “I am going to take advantage of this new development and get some punch. Can I procure some for you fine ladies?”
“Yes,” Emmy and I say as one, sending him off with a chuckle.
“So, how’s it going?” My friend asks, curling her feet beneath her on the couch. “You seem really happy.”
“I am really happy.”
She squeezes my forearm. “I’m so glad. Especially after the news about your fertility.”
The mention of my infertility stings. I’m still getting used to this new reality. But Emmy’s right — getting to be something of a back-up mom for Rory has gone a long way in easing the pain of my loss.
“I never saw any of this coming. Especially Ben. He’s been right in front of me for years, and it still took us this long to realize what we could be for each other.”
Emmy shrugs. “Maybe you weren’t ready for each other when you first met. Or maybe you truly weren’t attracted to each other then. Love and attraction can grow. You started as acquaintances, and that turned to something like friendship. It doesn’t surprise me that your friendship eventually blossomed into love.”
I turn her words over in my head. “You know what I think, my friend?” I say at last, bumping my shoulder into hers.
She shakes her head, a bemused expression on her face.
“I think that you’re a very smart, very wise person.”
Emmy smiles. “I’m a therapist. That comes with the territory.”
“So what do you think? Kate, Amelia, and I all randomly found out-of-the-blue love. Are you next?”
She laughs, but her brown eyes turn mournful. “I’m too smart for that,” she says softly.
I frown, opening my mouth to probe deeper into Emmy’s gathering sadness. But at that moment Tatum stands up and clinks his glass with a fork, calling for everyone’s attention.
Emmy leans in. “Don’t worry about me,” she whispers as Tatum welcomes everyone to the shower. “I’m doing just fine on my own.”
Now it’s my turn to squeeze her arm. I know she’s doing fine. She’s Emmy, and she rocks.
I thought I was doing fine before Ben too.
And really, I was.
But then he came into my life in a whole new way, and it made me realize how much better he made everything.
I want that for Emmy, if that’s something she desires.
For now, though, I’ll keep on trying to be the best friend that I can, loving her and supporting her through whatever comes her way — just like she’s done for me.
Just like the four of us — Amelia, Kate, Emmy, and me — do for each other. Always.
Ben returns with three drinks impossibly balanced in his hands. Emmy plucks the most precarious cup, and I take one of the two remaining ones. He sits, close enough that our thighs press together. I inhale the fresh scent of him, leaning in close.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
He bends his neck and kisses me. He knows I’m not only thanking him for the punch, and I can sense that knowledge in his touch.
“I’m a lucky man,” he rumbles back before turning his eyes to the front of the room where Kate is explaining the first shower game.
And he is.
He’s just as lucky as me.
Emmy
“How can we make this work?”
I look at the couple sitting on the couch in my office. I’ve spent the last month listening to their verbal sparring and complaints for an hour each week.
And now they’re both staring at me like I’m a lucky charm. Rub me enough times, and I’ll fix all their problems. They want me to tell them that their relationship can easily be mended, that years of happiness await them.
Except I can’t.
Even though this couple has been coming to me for marital counseling for just four weeks, I’ve heard enough. They don’t want counseling, they don’t want to work on themselves — they want a magic charm.
And one doesn’t exist.
But I’m their therapist, so I choose my words carefully. “Well, Brenda, Jim,” I say, glancing at the clock on the wall behind them slowly ticking down the last few minutes in our session, “we’ve talked about many ways to work on your relationship. Conversing using ‘I statements,’ finding new ways to compromise, and so forth. Which of the strategies that we’ve discussed would you like to focus on?”
Brenda sighs, rolling her eyes. I’m not surprised. She’s been coming in here wanting me to fix her husband, but she’s the one demanding a great deal from her partner while refusing to give anything back. She wants him to sweep her off her feet, except she’s snipped at him so much over their five years of marriage that he doesn’t have the courage to try.
“I’ve been enjoying using the ‘I statements,’” Jim says. He looks at his wife. “We could do that some more.”
Instead of responding to him, Brenda looks at me. “There’s just nothing to talk about, except for the ways he pisses me off.”
I resist the urge to bury my face in my hands. “There’s nothing at all you’d like to chat about with your life partner?” I clarify. “Current events, for example, or what you did with your day?”
She shakes her head. “No. We’ve done that, and it’s boring as hell.”
I hear the words she does not speak: Jim’s boring, life with him is boring, I want out.
She wants fireworks, adventure, and hot sex. While I’m not sure that this particular couple ever had that, I don’t doubt that it’s possible for them to experience all of it together — if they both do the hard work of getting real with themselves and each other.
Which Brenda has no interest in.
Because of that, this couple is doomed to divorce — hopefully. As painful and challenging as divorce might be, it’d be far worse for them to stay in a marriage filled with resentment and strife.
The clock’s minute hand slides forward, officially ending our session.
“We’re out of time for today,” I say, keeping my voice gentle. “Same time next week?”
Jim opens his mouth, looks at his wife helplessly as she gathers her things, then closes it again. Finally, he says, “Uh, actually, I need to check my work schedule before we book another session.”