Ever After Always (Bergman Brothers, #3)

by Chloe Liese

I’m so pissed at him that I’ve fantasized about sticking chocolate pudding in his business shoes—” “What?” she yells. “Why would you do that?” “He’d think it’s cat shit. Pickles gets diarrhea when she eats my houseplants.”

My therapist has encouraged me to be compassionate with myself, instead of wanting to fix myself or change how I am. And listen, I like her. She’s good. Shit, I can even admit she’s right. But that doesn’t mean I like it. Acceptance is not a solution. And I want solutions. I want to be able to fix it. Because I love fixing shit. I love fixing people

“Ableist,” Dr. Dietrich says. “Because saying a relationship has to be ‘fair’ implies only a certain balance and distribution of skills and aptitudes is valid. It upholds an arbitrary, damaging idea of ‘normal’ or ‘standard’ as requisite for fulfilling partnership. When in reality, all you need is two people who love what the other brings and share the work of love and life together.”

“Freya’s just been trying to protect me,” I tell Dr. Dietrich, my eyes not leaving Freya’s. “And I’ve been trying to protect her, too.” “Yes,” Dr. Dietrich says. “But we protect our spouses from things that cause actual harm—abuse, violence—not our inherent vulnerabilities and needs. Those are there for them to love and complement. If not,” she says pointedly, “it comes at the cost of our intimacy, our connection…our love.”

“Sometimes, Freya, no matter how hard you try, you won’t know how much a person you love is hurting because that person doesn’t want to hurt the people who love them.”

As I turn over Ziggy’s confession, as I watch Aiden settle into his chair, my heart aches. Aches for the people I can’t shield the way I want to, whose pain I can’t erase by loving them as deeply as possible. I want love to heal all wounds. But I’m starting to understand just how much it doesn’t.

Sometimes love is a splint, an arm to take, a shoulder to cry