“All right. I’ll text you my address, and we can order when you get here. To give you a heads-up, I can’t stay in these thigh shackles all day, so it’s yoga pants for me. Feel free to change before coming—no need to be uncomfortable.”

“Oh, okay. I probably won’t change unless it will make you feel better if I do.” She was people-pleasing again, and if she kept this up, she would get taken advantage of.

“So, my feelings are more important than yours? Why?” I had tried the tough love approach earlier in her office, but it didn’t sink in. I needed to figure something else out before we went on the prowl.

She paused for a minute. “Um, I guess I don’t have strong feelings about it, so I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Just meet me at my place in whatever you want, and we’ll talk then.” I shook my head at how much she needed to learn about herself.

“Okay. See you soon.” She sounded nervous, but we would work on that, too.

I immediately texted the address as I walked home, but wondered if I had made a mistake inviting her to my sanctuary. With it being a studio, there weren’t any covert spots. Not that I had stuff to hide, but everything was out in the open—including my clothes. There were built-in shelving units that were supposed to be minimalist and sleek, but without closets, it left my life on display.

There was a reason I never invited anyone back to my apartment: I was too exposed. When Davia picked this place, I assumed it would be our home until we were ready for a change of pace. But when she left me with bad credit and a mountain of debt, I didn’t have many options.

I arrived well before Shiloh because I was only blocks away, and she had miles to go if she was just leaving work. As soon as I got inside, I removed my shoes and went to the bedroom area. It was offset from the rest of the space but still wide open. I changed into black stretchy pants and a shirt that said, “I Do Dumb Things for Cool Stories.” Matrix got it for me, and it always made me laugh.

After picking up the unwanted stuff lying around and shoving it in either the laundry hamper or the dishwasher, I felt better about what she would be walking into. From an outside perspective, she shouldn’t be able to tell what a mess my life was. Not that I wanted to keep things from her, but how would I be a credible source if she knew how hopeless I was?

As soon as I folded the blanket I had on the couch, I poured myself a glass of wine and sat down at the dining table. I had no more than a sip when my intercom rang, and I got up to buzz her in. As I waited, I wondered if I should have had a glass ready for her, too. But she was knocking before I could decide.

I opened the door, and Shiloh stood there, her hair mussed as if she had run her hands through it, which I had now associated as her style. She was holding a bottle of wine, and I smiled.

“This is for you.” She handed it to me, and I moved to let her in. “I like your shirt.” She chuckled, and I was glad it could break the ice.

“I’m glad it could make you smile. And thank you for the wine. I was going to offer you a glass because I already have some open.”

She walked inside, and instead of appraising the place like I had feared she would, she slid her shoes off and sat at the table. “I’m okay. Thank you. I might have a drink after I eat, but there is no way it would sit well on an empty stomach.”

I eyed her and chuckled. “I’m sorry, but you work around prepared meals all day. Why on earth haven’t you eaten?”

With a single swipe of her hand across her face, I sensed an energy shift as if a heaviness had washed over her.

“I was avoiding Yoni.” She didn’t elaborate, but there was more to the story.

Should I pry? Or give her the space to fill me in on her own time? I still struggled with how to handle her. So I put the wine in the fridge to buy me some time. When I turned back to the table, she sighed.

“It makes me feel immature, but being around her can sometimes be trying.” Her shoulders dropped, and relief seemed to wash over her after that confession.

“That’s not immature. You know you can’t be the person you want to be when she’s around, so you’re choosing not to be around her during those times. That’s called boundaries, and it’s more than okay to set them.”

Her eyes shifted around like they were following a clock, but her face lightened. “I like that perspective. I was worried my past hurt was causing me to be resentful.”

I rolled that sentence around in my head but couldn’t dissect it. I needed clarification, so this time, I directed the conversation. “Past hurt from her?” I pulled out the chair across from Shiloh, not wanting to get in her personal bubble.

I needed to keep things casual so she didn’t feel like this was part of the show—technically, it wasn’t—but maybe I could find some quotes in there that would show growth by the end of the week.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, and I thought there might have been a story there by the interaction today.

“Do you want to talk about it?” My approach tonight would be more open-ended. The direct questions I had asked in the past didn’t provide me with many solid leads. But if I could get her to talk freely, maybe I could pick up some things to further the conversation.

She hitched one shoulder up. “I don’t know that there’s anything to say. We dated for a while, but now we’re strictly coworkers.”

That had to be awkward. I couldn’t imagine having to spend unwanted time with Davia, especially because she was a massive flirt like Yoni. I wouldn’t want to see that—not because I wanted her back, but because it would make me sick to my stomach that I was so wrong about someone I once loved. It would make me question myself, which didn’t sit well with me.

“She likes to play the field, and I like to be settled inside the dugout. We are better off as business partners and nothing else. She and I aren’t good on paper or in person.” She forced a smile, but she seemed over it, which was good.

“I get that. Sometimes, our choices aren’t based on logic. Words, actions, or even potential can trick us into thinking something is a good idea when it isn’t.”

“I think mine was convenience,” she said deadpan, but I laughed.

“What does that mean?” I smirked, and she finally broke her seriousness.

“I didn’t have to make an effort. Since we worked together and she had made the first move, it seemed like an easy choice. She was the decision-maker, and I liked that. It took away some of my anxiety.” She shrugged, but that probably happened more than I knew.

“Well, let’s hope this new person, what’s her name?” I figured it was time to focus on why she was here, and this seemed like a good segue into that.

Her lips curled into a wider smile, and a blush crept into her cheeks. “Ember,” she responded in that low voice that was barely audible.

“Alrighty. Well, I hope Ember is more your type, then.” I pulled out my phone, and she froze.

“Are you recording this?” Her eyes got wide in panic, and I shook my head.

“No, I was going to figure out where to get food so we could eat while we talked. I told you I wouldn’t do anything until you’re ready. Please view this as two friends hanging out and discussing the chicks they like—that’s it.”

She tilted her head as if questioning something. “So that means you have someone to talk about, too?” Of course, she took my words literally.

“I don’t, but I would tell you all about her if I did.” That seemed safe to say since I knew it would never happen, but hopefully, it would also get her to realize that this wasn’t just a job for me.

There were very few people I didn’t get drained by being around, and so far, she was one of them. She wasn’t talking to me because she thought I was “famous.” In fact, she would probably like me better if I wasn’t. I didn’t have to worry about her intentions, which was refreshing. So many people thought they knew me because of my show and social media, which made being in public downright exhausting.

How could I explain that my podcast persona wasn’t me? It was me, but an amplified version of me to engage the listeners. I didn’t want to be “on” all the time, which was how most people thought of me.

Shiloh seemed to accept me as I was, and that was something new. I hoped she felt the same sense of belonging when she was with me.

“Oh really?” Her question caught me off guard because she appeared skeptical, and that was the last thing I wanted.

“Yes.” I stared at her quizzically.

“Did Yoni ask you out?”

I bit my lower lip because knowing their history now made it awkward, but I didn’t have anything to hide. “She did. But I turned her down gently.” I gave her a cheeky smile, hoping it would keep things relaxed.

She shook her head slightly. “Go figure. She came to talk after you left and probably wanted me to help her out with you, but I brushed her off.” There was a softness when she brought her caramel eyes to mine. “But I don’t want you to not go out with her because of me. I’m over her.”

I didn’t even know they had been together when I turned Yoni down, but I wasn’t looking for someone anyway—not to date or to have fun with. My life was better in the small world I had created for myself. If I tried to fit anyone else in it, I would probably suffocate.

“I appreciate your approval, but I’m not interested in Yoni. And even if you are over her, it’s okay not to want me to date her. I’m your friend, and I don’t think it’s kosher to be with your ex, no matter how you feel about her. And I think you should speak up more. Don’t just say what you think the other person wants to hear. Your feelings are valid, even if you don’t have ‘reasons’ for them.” I didn’t mean to turn this into a TED talk, but it was something she needed to learn sooner than later.