Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake (A Brush with Love, #2)(90)

Indira was quiet for a moment, her lips pursed. “Lizzie, what relationships have you actually ruined? And don’t say your parents because you and I both know that is on them, not you.”

Lizzie sniffed, having trouble thinking of one.

Indira pounced on the silence. “You see, I can’t think of one you’ve ruined all on your own. Look at the friendships you have. Harper, Thu, and I love you an unhealthy amount. Seriously, it’s almost obsessive.”

Lizzie let out a wet laugh.

“And I know things aren’t perfect with Ryan, but from what you’ve told me, you’re both trying. And you get on great with Mary. And Bernadette? That old lady thinks you’re a star.” Indira visited Bernadette’s regularly, always taking a few minutes to talk with Bernadette about how everything was going.

“Do you want my opinion?” Indira asked, playing with Lizzie’s tangled hair.

“Always,” Lizzie said, wiping her nose on her T-shirt. “You’re a literal psychiatrist.”

Indira smiled at that. “I think you’ve heard a story about yourself for a very long time. I think the people that were supposed to love you the most actually hurt you the most. I think you were told so many times that you were destructive that you came to believe it. And I think it’s always stopped you from pursuing relationships. The loving, romantic kind that you deserve.”

Lizzie opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“Am I saying you’re perfect? Of course not,” Indira continued. “And I’m not invalidating the struggles and obstacles your ADHD presents, that would do you a disservice. But what I am saying is, just because your brain works differently from neurotypicals, it doesn’t mean you deserve to be valued any less. It doesn’t mean your love is a burden or a liability.”

Lizzie turned this over. Indira’s point felt dangerous. Scary. Like maybe if she started accepting that she deserved to be loved, she’d consciously start wanting it …

Who the hell was she kidding? Of course she wanted to be loved. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than to love and be loved in return.

“But if what you’re saying is true, then why would Rake let Dominic talk about me like that?”

“Because Rake is what we call emotionally constipated,” Indira said with a small smile. “Just like sometimes you say or do the wrong thing, Rake definitely said and did the wrong thing. It doesn’t excuse it, but his shitty response doesn’t reflect on your worth.”

“This is … a lot to think about,” Lizzie said, rubbing her fists against her eyes. “I think I need to go to bed,” she added, glancing at the clock. She couldn’t keep talking about it. Her brain felt crowded, and any other profound statements from Indira would be like pouring water over glass and expecting it to absorb.

“Of course,” Indira said, reaching over to turn out the light, the pair snuggled in Indira’s bed. Lizzie knew she had to find a place of her own, but she’d give herself a few days before starting the search.

“And you don’t mind going to get my stuff tomorrow?” Lizzie asked, punching her pillow into a comfortable position. Lizzie didn’t want to go back into the apartment. She didn’t want to feel the happy memories poke and pinch at her skin as she gathered the rest of her stuff.

“Of course not,” Indira said. “I’ll go during lunch.”

“Thank you,” Lizzie said with a yawn, allowing a dreamless sleep to take her.





Chapter 44




LIZZIE was not at peak performance for work on Monday. She’d burned two batches of cupcakes for the store’s new Yonic Boom flavor—peach cake with a lemon curd filling, topped with pink buttercream suggestive of labia—and was close to a mess of angry tears when Bernadette approached her.

“Why are you dimmed, dear?” the woman asked, patting at her mass of gray curls.

“Dimmed?”

“Your energy. It’s faded today.”

That was all it took for Lizzie to start sobbing. Bernadette wrapped Lizzie in a tight hug, rocking her gently from side to side as she cried, humming as Lizzie’s tears eventually subsided.

“Tears are so healthy,” Bernadette said, pulling back to retrieve a tissue from the pocket of her chunky knit cardigan. “They’re the body working. All of those feelings and emotions flow through every corner of your body like oxygen, and when they’re finally released as tears, it’s your body saying it’s prepared to let those emotions go.”

Lizzie blinked at Bernadette. “Really?”

Bernadette shrugged. “While I did make that up, I think it’s a rather nice notion.”

“I do too,” Lizzie said, breaking into a smile.

“What’s bothering you?” Bernadette asked. She pulled Lizzie toward the front of the shop, flicking the OPEN sign to CLOSED while they had a lull in customers.

Lizzie told Bernadette. She poured her heart out to the old woman, explaining Rake and their inability to stay platonic and the way his failure to defend her cut like a knife. She explained what a fuckup she so often felt like, how many fears and hopes she had about the future. She cried and talked, and Bernadette sat there calmly, nodding along.

“Do you know why I hired you?” Bernadette asked after Lizzie finished.