Willow squirms a little, rubbing the side of her neck as if she can't get comfortable. I guess no one has ever given it to her this straight before. No wonder her restaurant collapsed. She's brilliant, talented, ambitious-but in some ways, still a little naïve about the world.
"I don't know," she says with a contemplative sigh. "That sounds like an unhealthy way to live. Doing everything yourself. Not trusting anybody. Always looking over your shoulder, still holding on to all of that no matter how many years go by."
I smile at her once more before lifting my legs back up on the lounger and lying back.
"It got me here, didn't it?"
I draw some more of the whiskey and close my eyes, listening to the waves and feeling almost as if they could carry me away. Maybe this is what therapy feels like. As if some knot deep inside of you that you didn't even know you were carrying is loosened. Then Willow's words break the trance.
///
"Does it ever get lonely at the top?" she says.
I open my eyes and turn to see her sitting on the edge of her lounger, looking at me anxiously now as if worried.
I let out an easy chuckle. "How could I be lonely? I own a restaurant."
"What does that have to do with it?"
I look at her, not quite understanding the question.
"How could I be lonely when I spend all my time around people, hundreds of people who turn up at the restaurant every week. And my staff. All the cooks I've worked with over the years. The parties, the events … I'm never alone. If anything I wish I had more time to myself-"
"That's not what I meant," Willow says, her tone more serious now. "That whole ‘not trusting anyone but yourself' thing, it sounds kinda … sad. I don't know how you can live like that. I can't imagine living without any close friends, without someone you can open up to."
"Why does that sound like an offer?"
"Maybe it is." She laughs a little, almost nervously, then stands up.
Looking up at her, I say, "You need a break from my dark, painful past, I take it?"
She smiles. "I can handle it. But right now, it's just too gorgeous out. Let's swim."
Willow holds out her hand, and I take it.
12
Willow
It took a month of very tactful cajoling, but I eventually give in and attend one of Asha's gym-plus-boxing classes. As if my shifts at Knife weren't exhausting enough. Still, Asha's been right about pretty much everything she suggested up to this point, and the physical strains are the only thing keeping my mind off the emotional ones, so I give it my all.
I spend the first twenty minutes of her relentlessly high-energy class planning how to escape without anybody noticing, the next twenty minutes pitting mind against body as they both reach their limits, then the last twenty minutes on an adrenaline rush that's almost spiritual. By the time I arrive home (without Asha, she had a few more classes to go) I'm walking on air. My mind clear, my body gratifyingly drained, and with a craving for sugar that goes down to my toes.
Since Asha's not around to tell me why that's a bad idea, I decide to go for it and make cinnamon buns from scratch, picking up confectioner's sugar and cream cheese on the way home. Once I'm in the apartment, I take a quick shower and then get to work.
That's when my sister Ellie calls, when my hands are deep in the mixing bowl, working the dough together. I answer the call with my elbow and quickly tell her to call me back on the videochat program on her laptop.
Ellie's only older than me by five years, though in terms of figuring out what you want in life, she's pretty much at the end game. After marrying her high school sweetheart in her mid-twenties, an IT consultant named Greg, she had two beautiful girls with eiderdown-soft hair and stock photo smiles and settled down in an incredible three-bedroom on the outskirts of Boise, to focus on her dream job of selling her handmade wedding dresses online. One of her first clients ended up being the style editor at Vogue, and after the magazine ran a short feature on her vintage-inspired designs, my sister's business took off. Even her bathroom is perfect-it has an amazing view of the mountains.
Ellie's more than just my wonderfully successful and incredibly humble sister, however; she's my cheerleader, confidante, and-when times are particularly tough-therapist. She's been calling me regularly to check in since I moved to L.A., expecting a full rundown of everything I've been up to. Considering how quickly things have been happening lately, she'll probably have to start calling me daily.