Page 26 of The Time It Takes

He nodded. "It can be complicated. Sometimes, it's unrequited. Partnership can be very much like marriage, even without any extra feelings. Commitment and communication are so important in that bond. When attraction is involved, it can be even more complex. Boundaries are important when it comes to things like this—feelings that aren't returned, where we get our emotional needs met. It's something to be navigated with care and compassion."

We looked at each other. "I don't think I have the skills to figure all of that out. I just don't want to lose him."

That was all the time left in the appointment, and I didn't know if I'd made any progress or not, but I felt better for having at least said it out loud.

I also had a lot to think about now, including some things that would never have occurred to me. It wasn't necessarily that I believed Dr.Cavan's views—he didn't know Arlie or what he was feeling—just that it was something I hadn't even thought of before.

Maybe I wasn't the one who was too invested in this relationship, or felt like it was complicated. Maybe each of us did in different ways. Maybe hanging out with me did feel like dates to him, and maybe his alpha had picked up on that dynamic.

Would Arlie tell me if he was into me? No, of course he wouldn't. He was so respectful and circumspect with me, and he knew my history about being bullied. How much it had messed with my sense of self.

It wasn't the same thing at all, when someone found you attractive. But he wouldn't go there all the same, wouldn't want to remind me of things that hurt. If he was having feelings, he'd just push them down or deal with them on his own. He wouldn't involve me at all.

And maybe he was right. We didn't need any disruption in our friendship, anything to strain it. We had a good level of trust and compatibility as friends and coworkers. He would never do anything to jeopardize that. But if he had some other feelings underneath, it could be complicated, even painful.

Maybehewas the one who needed therapy, not me. It was a relief to think that, even just for a moment, but it probably wasn't true. I needed to talk through some things for myself, no matter how anyone else was feeling. Maybe I'd even learn some strategies for dealing with the confusing jealousy, although so far the therapist's advice was "talk to him" and "don't experiment with him."

Easy enough. Whether I talked to him or not, I definitely wouldn't use him as an experiment to test my sexuality. Arlie deserved better than that. Even if he was still figuring some things out, or experiencing a crush or something, he deserved to be treated with respect. And I cared about him too damn much to risk doing anything to hurt him.

Something in me felt settled, at peace. I'd been worrying so much about all of this that I felt better just for talking about it, for lancing the wound. There was relief, too, in hearing my new therapist's calm thoughts about Arlie and what he might be feeling. I didn't necessarily believe it, but it helped to hear he might have complicated feelings about me.

Not because I wanted him to be hurt. I didn't. I didn't want anything to be hard for him. But if he had a reason for being so weird about dating, I could feel a lot more sympathy and a lot less irritation for him and the way he didn't seem to know what he wanted. It's tough to figure things out when you have conflicted feelings.

I'd probably go back as long as it seemed like I had things to talk about. There was clearly still a lot to talk through about Darby and my own path forward, whether anything else came up about Arlie or not.

I likely wouldn't have to talk about him again at all, except in passing. Maybe to say that he was finally dating someone he liked, and I was happy for him.

It didn't feel like happiness when I thought about that, though. Well. I guess I still had some things to figure out about not being jealous if he didn't have as much time for me. Maybe I'd even take the therapist's advice and let Arlie know I was feeling a little insecure and didn't want him to not have time for me when he fell in love. Less time, okay, I'd deal with it. But I definitely still needed some time with him. Well, that was down the road, anyway. He didn't seem likely to find his one true love anytime soon, when he was still having trouble looking.

But when he did, I was going to be happy for him, and I was going to be an adult about it. I was also going to express my needs and not just feel sorry for myself if I felt forgotten about. And that would fix this complicated, twisting-gut feeling I got when I thought about him falling in love.

Which is what I wanted for him. Because I loved him as a friend.

I tried to picture it—Arlie, happy, settled. Finding a guy he liked, or a girl, being content and in love. I thought about the way his eyes would crinkle, going soft as he looked at his lover. I thought about him being relaxed and content, sure of himself in a new way, because he knew he was loved, knew where he belonged.

Yeah. He'd end up with someone nice, maybe funny and bubbly and cute, maybe more serious and mature and thoughtful and intense. I didn't really know his type, but I was pretty sure it wasn't actually petite blondes, whatever he thought.

Unless he was into petite blond guys. I almost laughed at the thought—and then didn't. I glanced uneasily in the rearview mirror, at my too-pale blue eyes, my dirty blond hair. It had been really pale when I was a kid, almost white.

It had darkened with time to more of a surfer look, when I'd had it a little bit longer, and then a severe, almost-not-there look when I'd cut it short to look tougher. That style hadn't really worked on me, so I'd grown it out again to medium length.

I hated the way my eyebrows sort of disappeared sometimes on my face. Sometimes I looked at myself in the mirror and thought I looked ghoulish and bloodless. But it was just the Norwegian ancestry. Too bad it hadn't made me tall and sturdy. I'd always been kind of slim and slight.

I turned my thoughts elsewhere, quickly.