The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(66)

“Not really.”

“She used to talk about your problems and fears with you.”

I frown. “Miss Theresa was a shrink?”

She pulls out a book from her bag. “Would you like to read it?”

I take it from her and look it over. It’s a notebook, and typed-out letters are all glued inside. I check the date on the front page. I would have been ten when this was written.

It is my belief that Christopher is experiencing traits of perfectionism.

The next part is scribbled down in my mother’s writing, as if she has researched the word perfectionism.

Perfectionism in psychology is a broad personality style characterized by a person’s concern with striving for flawlessness and perfection and is accompanied by critical self-evaluations and concerns regarding others’ evaluations.

Traits that Christopher readily displays:

All-or-nothing attitude.

Being highly critical of himself and others.

Feeling pushed by fear.

Having unrealistic standards.

Focusing only on results.

Feeling depressed or terrified by unmet goals.

Fear of failure.

Procrastination.

Defensiveness.

Although he does not display the usual low self-esteem, he does rely heavily on his brothers, which may indicate a codependent relationship. Christopher feels that to be accepted he needs to excel in all areas of his life.

Failure isn’t an option.

What?

I frown and read on. The next paragraph is from the therapist.

Moving forward, I would suggest that Christopher continue his therapy, as if he is left untreated, I would expect that these traits may worsen when he approaches adulthood and enters into personal relationships.

I close the book and pass it back to her, annoyed. “I was ten.”

Mom’s knowing eyes hold mine.

“All ten-year-olds are weird.” I shuffle around in my chair, feeling uncomfortable. “I’m not a perfectionist.”

She stays silent.

“I don’t care what that stupid book says. I’m not a fucking perfectionist.”

She sips her coffee.

“What made you take me to a damn shrink when I was ten, anyway?” I snap.

“You wouldn’t do anything new.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you didn’t think you were going to be good at something, you point-blank refused to even attempt it.”

“Like what?”

“It started in class. You refused to do algebra.”

I frown. I don’t remember any of this.

“You and your teacher came to blows. You dug your heels in and simply refused. She called me. It was at that time that we started to take notice of things that we had always seen as your little quirks.”

I stare at her.

“Sweetheart.” She takes my hand over the table. “It isn’t easy being the youngest Miles brother, growing up like you did with so much pressure on you to be perfect.”

“I don’t feel pressured, Mom.”

“Not within our family . . . but it has affected your personal relationships with women. You are thirty-one and never had a girlfriend. Don’t you ever wonder why?”

I stare at her, horrified.

“You can do this, Christopher.” She squeezes my hand in hers. “I know you can, but you need to know that it’s okay if you fail.”

No. It’s not.

I get a lump in my throat.

“Loving someone is frightening; I know that,” she whispers. “But one day, you will have to give control over to someone. The only decision you have to make now is . . . Is this particular girl going to be the one you trust with your heart, or is she going to be the one who got away?”

Hayden.

My eyes well with tears.

My mother passes me the book. “Take this home, sweetheart, and read it. Study it. Better still, go and see a therapist. I don’t want to see you break your own heart.”

“It’s too late.” I sigh sadly. “She’s gone.”





HAYDEN

I sit on the bench seat outside our hostel. I glance at my watch. Where is he? I start work in an hour. He’s usually here by now.

I wait for another ten minutes, and then finally I look up the street and catch sight of him and wave. Big beautiful brown eyes smile back at me. “Hello, Miss Hazen.”

“Hi, Eddie.” I hold my breath. “Did he call?”

Eddie’s face falls, and he shakes his head. “No.”

My heart sinks.

It’s been eight days since Christopher left, and damn it.

I got it wrong.

He’s not coming back.

He stopped calling Eddie four days ago, and now Eddie is just as sad as me.

Which is sad, really sad.

The others all left for Germany on Monday. I couldn’t bring myself to go with them. What if he comes back and I’m not here? Even if it is only to say goodbye.

I hope he’s okay.

The thing is, I know that he cares. I get a lot of things wrong, but I haven’t imagined the feelings between us. All along, I knew he was fucked up. I guess I didn’t realize how badly.

I’ve overanalyzed this until I’ve nearly driven myself insane.

And I’ve come to the only conclusion there is. Maybe my body just wasn’t enough for him. I’ve seen the girls he hooks up with, and I’m not even in their stratosphere. Maybe he got a taste of what I’m not and decided to run for the hills.