Page 90 of Perfect Guy

“Hallie’s wedding is this weekend.” Joy raises her eyebrows as if I could read her mind.

“Okay?”

“Madelyn will be there.” She presses her lips together. “It might be a good thing to talk to her before then so it won’t be awkward. You can’t avoid her forever when our families will be tied together.” She has a point.

“I’ll see,” I nod. “I need to get my head on straight.”

“Maybe you should talk to someone.”

“I’m talking to you,” I furrow my eyebrows.

“I meant like a professional. A therapist could help you overcome this. You might have PTSD.”

“Nah,” I shake my head.

“Canaan, if you need to, no one will think less of you. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but it’s been a lot of changes. You haven’t been able to work. You’ve been recovering. You lost the woman you love. You’re going through a transition, not feeling like yourself. Maybe therapy can help.” Joy holds no sign of judgment on her face.

“I’ll think about it.” It’s all I can promise her right now.

“I’ll accept that for now,” she smirks.

I chuckle, and it feels good. “Thanks, Joy.” I squeeze her hand. “Let’s go home. I’m tired.”

“I expect a five-star rating on my Uber account,” she jokes.

“Four-stars. If you would’ve brought me a cinnamon roll, then you’d get the five,” I tease.

“I’m happy to see you smile. I may be able to earn that five-star rating when we get to the bakery.”

She drives us back to Mason Creek, and I feel a little better. Maybe being cooped up at home, mostly alone, isn’t the solution. I don’t want to be a burden to anyone, but in the process of being self-sufficient, I’m damaging my recovery and mental state.

It might be up to me to recover the way I want to, and that means making an effort to be the person I was or as close to that person as possible.