Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
He shakes his head.
“My spirit guide says you and June should hold hands. That a physical bridge between you two could be helpful.”
I hold out my hand and he takes it in a firm grip. His skin is warm and I don’t hate this.
“This is a safe space, Nash, remember?” asks Molly.
“It’s just that…I mean…June already knows, so I don’t feel like it’s something we really need to revisit.”
“Oh, for goodness sake,” says Grandma. “You two…”
Molly clicks her tongue. “Don’t forget your kindness, Audrey.”
“Yeah, Audrey,” drawls Nash, in his deep voice.
And we only have to speak absolute nonsense for another forty-something minutes. This is a disaster. I don’t need to be a psychic to see that. The things we said in the bar the other night are our best chance of survival. “I didn’t like him calling me bro. And he never said bless you when I sneezed.”
“I can see how that might be upsetting,” says Molly.
“The lack of punctuation in texts was also an issue,” says Nash. He obviously doesn’t have the list on him. “What else was there?”
“Saying knock knock instead of just actually knocking on the door. I mean, what’s with that?”
“That’s a new one,” he says.
“Is it?”
“Definitely haven’t heard that one before.”
Molly’s frown is somewhat judgey. You’d think a psychic counselor would be better at keeping her expression blank. It’s almost as if she’s suggesting my long list of complaints are trivial or something. I, for one, am outraged at her and her spirit guide’s lack of understanding. This list of misdemeanors is actively helping me to move on from a relationship that was sadly lacking in all the ways. Hence the traces of blue in my aura.
“He forgot her birthday and wouldn’t talk about his feelings.” Grandma sets her half-finished glass of juice down on the counter. “That’s what happened to cause this great chasm.”
Nash freezes. And then he nods. “What she said.”
“I see,” says Molly, in a careful tone. “It certainly explains why I was smelling smoke earlier.”
He cocks his head. “It does?”
“Birthday candles,” says Molly sagely. “Now how did that make you feel, June? Nash forgetting your birthday?”
“Sad.”
Molly blinks. “Could you possibly expand on that?”
“I’d been dropping hints for weeks about things we could do. There was this new Mexican restaurant that had opened only a couple of blocks away, and he loved…he loves Mexican food. Then there was supposed to be a meteorite shower. An actual celestial event on my birthday. It felt portentous. Like the next year was going to bring big things.” I didn’t mean to grip Nash’s hand so hard. This is, however, a shitty memory. Support from him is welcome. “But he texted me that he had to work and was then going out for a few drinks with his boss. Forgot what the date was entirely.”
Nash gives my fingers a squeeze. It’s surprising he can still move them, given the way I must be cutting off the blood supply. “You deserve better, June. I’m so sorry that happened.”
I smile. “I know you are.”
“You’ve forgiven him so easily?” asks Grandma. “How remarkable. Molly, you work wonders!”
The psychic counselor opens her mouth to speak, but she’s too slow. Her opportunity to regain control of this situation has slipped by.
Because my grandmother’s gift for bullshitting far and away surpasses mine. She’s a savant. “They’re communicating and talking about their feelings better than they ever have. I doubt they even need more sessions. And to think I wasn’t sure you could help them. Just astonishing.”
“We’re fixed,” confirms Nash.
“But we haven’t even started on trust work,” says Molly, with a frown.
I paste on a smile. “I trust him. Fully. Totally.”
“Then there’s the bright lights I keep seeing.” Molly shakes her head in confusion. “It’s almost as if they’re stage lights or something.”
“I’m sure the meaning will come to you in the fullness of time. Your technique is remarkable. Such a light but effective touch.” Grandma wastes no time opening the front door, ready for Molly’s departure. “They’ll be certain to tell everyone how helpful you were.”
“Thank you.” Molly stows her quartz back in her purse. “But are you sure you wouldn’t like to explore any lingering issues? Get in touch with your inner child?”
“My emotional maturity is around two most days,” says Nash. “I think we have it covered.”
“Thank you again, Molly,” I say. “You’ve saved us.”
She rises from the armchair with an uncertain smile. “That’s always nice to hear.”
Grandma ushers her out. “Watch the step there. Doubtless you see them coming. Goodbye!”
And the front door is shut. We’re safe.
Nash blows out a big breath. “How lucky are we that her spirit guide didn’t tell her we were fake?”
“Could have been awkward,” I say.
“Now you’ve had a taste of how difficult it can be living a lie.” Grandma looks down her nose at us. Which is tricky, given she’s the shortest in the room. “I must say, you two seem to be sadly lacking in the skills required to keep up this nonsense. You barely made it five minutes.”