Nina was already at the diner when I strode in, five minutes early.

“I have a massive hangover,” Nina said. “So this better be good.”

“I’ll tell you when Ashley gets here.” I opened my menu and zeroed in on the starchy section. “What did you do last night?”

“Nothing. Just went to dinner with Brad. We only split a bottle of wine.”

“Nina,” I said, reproachfully.

“I know!” she wailed. “It’s happening. I’m turning into my mother who gets a hangover from Penne a la Vodka.”

We ordered coffee while we waited for Ashley. After ten, fifteen minutes, she was still MIA.

“Her apartment is like three blocks from here,” Nina whined. “I’m starving!”

Finally, I saw Ashley stroll past the window. “There she is.” I nodded and Nina turned in her seat. “What is she wearing?”

It’s been cool-ish in New York these last few days, but most people are still walking around in t-shirts and sandals. Ashley was wearing a full blown chunky black turtleneck.

“Someone’s a little excited for fall,” Nina said as Ashley sat down next to her.

“You know it’s my favorite season,” Ashley said, somewhat accusingly, as though Nina was a bad friend for not knowing that.

“Relax,” Nina said. “You look cute. I would be sweating my balls off if I were you, but you look cute.”

“Whatever, Nina,” Ashley grumbled. She opened her menu and stared it down, but I got the feeling she wasn’t really reading anything. Nina raised her eyebrows at me.

“Ash,” I said, “you okay?”

“I told you I wasn’t feeling well,” Ashley said, still not taking her eyes off the menu. “But I came anyway, like I always do. Can you just get to it so I can go home and get into bed? What’s the problem this time?”

Insert hissing cat noise here!

“I thought you just meant you were hungover like this one,” I said, pointing to Nina. “Go home if you don’t feel good. Seriously. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Ashley suddenly dropped the menu and covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook, and I could see tears slipping out from underneath her fingers.

“Ashley!” Nina said, shocked. She put her arm around her and held her close. “Oh my God, you are burning up. Take this thing off.”

“Stop,” Ashley said, shaking her off. “I don’t have anything on underneath it.”

“Do you want us to go back to your apartment with you so you can change?”

Without saying a word, Ashley nodded.

Nina and I left money on the table to cover our coffee, and ushered Ashley out of the diner.

Once we were inside Ashley’s apartment, Nina turned the AC on. “You need to change out of that blanket immediately.”

Ashley still didn’t say a word. She pulled the sweater off, revealing that she was wearing a white t-shirt underneath. “Why did you say you weren’t”—I stopped when I realized what was going on. When I saw the purple bruises on Ashley’s wrist, her upper arm, and most worriedly, an ugly one about the size of a thumb on her neck.

“Ashley,” Nina gasped. “What happened?”

Ashley bit her lip. “We had a fight last night.”

I seriously thought I would throw up right then and there. “Tom did this to you?” As soon as I said his name, a look of defiance passed over Ashley’s face.

“I know how it looks,” Ashley said. “But he didn’t hit me. Things just got heated.”

“What do you mean he didn’t hit you?” Nina snapped. I know she didn’t mean to come across as angry at Ashley, but I could tell that’s how Ashley took it. “How do you explain this?”

“We were like, grabbing at each other,” Ashley said. “I did it too! But it didn’t, like, hurt me. There weren’t even any marks until I woke up this morning.”

“This is insane, Ashley,” Nina said. “I can’t believe you’re making excuses for him.”

“I’m not making excuses, Nina. I’m telling you what really happened. If a guy hit me, I would break up with him in a heartbeat.”

“Wait,” I said. “You didn’t break up with him?”

“I just left,” Ashley said. “We didn’t break up. I just stormed out. I’m furious. He’s been calling me all morning.”

“What was the fight even about?”

“Thanksgiving,” Ashley said. “I want him to spend it with my family and he wants me to spend it with his.”

I was suddenly able to form the full picture of this Tom guy: Whisking Ashley away every weekend to the suburbs, alienating her from the people in her life, his non-existent interest in getting to know Ashley’s friends. He was one of those scary-possessive guys you read about in Cosmo and Self!  He wants to alienate you from your friends and control you. And Ashley was completely under his spell.

Both Nina and I spent the next few hours trying to talk some sense into Ashley. Well, first, we tried to convince her to go to the ER but she basically laughed at us. “I had more bruises from riding the bull at Johnny Utah’s last Halloween,” Ashley said. Which was technically true but it just made me nervous that someone had put that much pressure on her neck—enough to bruise it that severely. What if an important vein had been crushed?

We also tried to make Ashley see that she hadn’t done anything wrong, but that Tom absolutely, 100% had. “I pushed him first,” Ashley said. “You don’t understand. It wasn’t him abusing me, it was like a couple getting into a tussle.”

“Men do not get into ‘tussles’ with women!” Nina said, exasperated. “Don’t you get that this is not normal?”

When we’d run out of steam, Ashley thanked us for our concern in the most emotionless, clinical way possible. “I know you guys are just trying to look out for me,” she said. “But trust me. If it was what you think it was, I wouldn’t accept that.” She shrugged. She had hardened against us; I could see it in her face. We’d somehow managed to make it worse. Now we were the enemy, the ones who didn’t ‘get it.’ Not Tom. It was terrifying to realize just how brainwashed she was.

It was dark by the time Nina and I left Ashley’s apartment. We offered to stay, to just hang out and order dinner, but Ashley insisted she wanted some alone time.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Nina said, once we were out on the street. It was chilly then, and I could have used Ashley’s oversized sweater.

“What do we do?” I asked, helplessly. “Do we call the cops?”

Nina shook her head. “She’ll just lie for him. And if he finds out…I’m scared what he’d do to her if he found out.”

We walked in silence for a few blocks. “Want to get a drink somewhere?” I asked.

“For the love of God, yes,” Nina said.

We ended up at a little wine bar not far from Ashley’s apartment. Once we had a carafe of cabernet in front of us, Nina said, “Oh my God! So you never even told me what happened that made you call that emergency brunch.”

I shook my head. “I’ll tell you, but it seems ridiculously trivial compared to what we just dealt with over the last few hours.”

“Give me the most trivial shit you’ve got,” Nina said. “Anything to take my mind off of that.”

I ran Nina through the last few days—from the Social Media party up until the text I’d sent Richard. At some point while I was in Ashley’s apartment, Richard had texted me back that our friendship was important to him and he didn’t want to lose it. ‘I’ve been soul searching,’ he wrote, ‘Which is lame but is what one does when one gets fired. And maybe you’re right? Maybe I just want what I can’t have. If I’m not sure, I can’t ask you to be sure either. There are a lot of things in my life I want to change right now.’

We agreed to grab lunch in a few weeks, once the dust had settled and it wouldn’t be awkward-city for us to be alone together.

“Um,” Nina said, when I finished. “You do realize who you’re acting like right now, don’t you?”

“Who?”

“Justin.”

“Ugh,” I said. “I swear that name triggers PTSD for me.”

“How?” Nina asked.

“It just makes me feel pathetic,” I said. “I practically begged him to be my boyfriend and then it all blew up in my face. I honestly wake up in the middle of the night, cringing at how desperate I must have seemed to him.”

“Do you ever stop to think that that’s why you’re keeping Peter at arm’s length?”

I wrinkled my nose. “No. But please, give me your thoughts, Doctor Nina.”

Nina rolled her eyes at me and took a sip of her wine. “Keep being an asshole and I won’t give you my diagnosis.”

“I’ll pay for the wine,” I offered.

“That’s more like it.” Nina grinned. “What I was going to say before I was so rudely made fun of was this—have you ever stopped to think that you feel rejected by your first two real boyfriends? Your high school boyfriend who swiped your v-card and then broke up with you immediately, and Eric, who cheated on you. Then you have Peter and things get fuzzy, but in your head you may still feel like he chose Elizabeth over you, and then you have Justin, who you also feel rejected you. Aren’t you just afraid to go all in with Peter because you’re scared you’re just going to get your ass handed to you again? But you also don’t want him out of your life completely because deep down, so much of your self-worth is tied to having a boyfriend? You always have a boyfriend.”

“God,” I said. “Your version of events makes me sound like such a loser.”

“Oh, the smallest violin in the world is playing for you right now,” Nina said. “You’ve taken down some hot pieces of ass so I’m really not feeling all that bad for you.”

“Well, when you put it like that.” I grinned.

“I’m really serious though,” Nina said. “Do you see a pattern at all there?”

“Of course I do,” I said. “But what’s the answer? That’s part of why I’m hesitant to just lock this down with Peter. I feel like I’m taking the easy way out. Just relying on having a boyfriend to make me feel full and complete. I should be able to feel like that on my own.”

“I would tell you if you were doing this because you just wanted a boyfriend. But this thing with Peter, it’s special.” She finished her wine. “Shit or get off the pot.” She climbed off her bar stool. “Speaking of, I’m going to the bathroom.”

I signaled to the bartender and he brought me the check. I left a hearty tip—I felt like I needed all the good karma I could get. It was almost 9 PM by the time Nina and I stepped out onto the street, and both of us were exhausted. We agreed to do some investigative work over the next few days and find out how best to support/get through to a friend who is in a situation like Ashley is in. It still felt weird to call it abusive—how could someone as strong and stubborn as Ash find herself with a guy like this?

As Nina tried to hail a cab for herself, I sent Peter a text, ‘Hi. I miss you. Crazy day. Brunch tomorrow?’ It was true—after realizing what a bad egg Ashley had found, it made me appreciate a guy like Peter even more.

Nina climbed into a cab and waved goodbye at me. “Make good choices!” she called out the window as the car pulled away.

I’m trying to.

“Why are you looking at my phone?” I asked. It was all I could think to say.

“You left it on the table,” Peter said. “I thought it was mine.” He tossed the phone onto the bed.

Peter and I did have the same white iPhone 5. And I do tend to walk around with my phone in my hand, putting it down wherever I land. But had I left it on the table or had it been in my bag? I honestly couldn’t remember.

This was all secondary to whatever it was that Peter had read. I dug around in the sheets, found the phone, and turned it on.

‘I really have nothing to say for myself except to say I’m sorry. Not that it matters, but I didn’t sleep with her.’

THANKS FOR THAT, RICHARD. I looked up at Peter. The expression on his face was a mix of confusion and sadness, and it broke my heart.

“I don’t want to pry into your life, Josie,” Peter said. “You’re not my girlfriend, but I mean…if you saw that on my phone you’d want to know too.” He sighed. “What the hell is that about?”

I folded my legs underneath me and wondered where to begin. I didn’t feel like it was deceptive to keep this from Peter before, but it definitely would be deceptive to lie when asked point blank about it. So I told Peter everything, starting with the Social Media party. Well, I guess I didn’t tell him everything. I skipped the part about our conversation at work, the one where Richard asked me if I felt anything for him and I didn’t know how to answer because I did.

“I remember this guy,” Peter said, when I finished.

“You do?”

“Yeah, from your Hamptons house. I could tell he liked you.”

“I don’t think he likes me. I think he just wants to sleep with me and he isn’t used to girls who don’t want to sleep with him,” I said. Off Peter’s expression, I instantly regretted saying that. For some reason I remembered this one lesson from my Intro to Psych class in college. The professor was trying to demonstrate how different men and women are when it comes to love. She asked the room which scenario would be more hurtful—for your partner to fall in love with someone emotionally—no sex—or, for your partner to have meaningless sex with a random person and feel nothing. All the girls in the room raised their hands to show that they would prefer their boyfriend to have meaningless sex with someone, and all the guys raised their hands to show they’d rather their girlfriend fall in love with someone emotionally. The point is guys just really don’t like the idea of another P near their V.

“But I don’t want to sleep with him,” I added, quickly.

“You sure?” Peter asked, quietly.

I would have said anything to make this situation better. And even though it wasn’t entirely true that I didn’t want to sleep with Richard (a little part of me is curious, I can’t help it—the vagina wants what the vagina wants), it was true that I would never actually do it. So I didn’t feel like I was being dishonest by saying, “Yes, Peter. I’m sure.”

Peter sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Here’s the thing, Josie. It’s not that I don’t believe you. It’s more…I feel like you just like to court this kind of drama.”

“Says the guy who gave it another go with the biggest drama queen I’ve ever met,” I shot back. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe you like the drama?”

“Yeah,” Peter said. “I have. And you’re right, I was like that once. Over the last year, I thought a lot about the choices I’ve made, and what I was doing wrong, because I wasn’t happy. I don’t want to play these little mind games any more. I’m too old for that shit.”

“I’m not playing mind games,” I said. “You popped up into my life out of nowhere. I had stuff going on, okay? This Richard thing, this had been brewing since summer.”

“I had stuff going on too!” Peter said. “I had a girlfriend.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “You wanted to revisit things, and I told you to call me but only if you were single, which, I’m sorry, is a normal and decent thing to do. But at the same time, I’m not going to just drop everything in my life the second you show up. We agreed to take this slow.”

“I never asked you to drop everything for me.”

“Fine, then don’t be mad that I didn’t.”

We were both silent for a moment. “So what are we even fighting about right now?” I asked.

“I just don’t like it,” Peter said. “Would you?”

“No,” I said. “I’m sorry for that. But at the same time I don’t feel like I’ve necessarily done anything wrong. Are you seriously telling me that you’re not playing a little bit on your own too?”

Peter was silent for a moment, and it was like a punch to the gut. I suddenly understood what he was feeling. “It’s like friends trying to set me up,” he said. “But the whole time I’m with these women I just wish I was with you.”

That got the water works going. I felt like I was back at square one, wishing Peter and I had better timing, and that we both wanted the same things at the same time. “I just don’t know how to be casual with you,” I said, wiping a tear off my cheek. “I feel like we’re all or nothing, but I don’t know if I’m ready to be all right now.”

Peter bit his lower lip, but didn’t say anything.

“Are you ready to be all right now?” I asked.

“Sometimes, yes,” Peter said. “But sometimes, no.” It was exactly how I felt.

He came towards me then. He sat down on the bed and hugged me. I was so exhausted I could have fallen asleep right there on his shoulder. Eventually we crawled back under the covers, curled up, and went to bed.

When I woke up in the morning, Peter wasn’t beside me. I checked my phone—it was almost 11am. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept that late.  I rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and splashed water on my face. My face looked like Mama Elsa’s from Real Housewives of Miami—swollen and puffy.

Peter was in the kitchen, making eggs, when I finally emerged from the bedroom. I pulled up a bar stool and took a seat. “Hi,” I said.

Peter turned around. “Hi.”

“Any epiphanies in the middle of the night?”

Peter smiled. “Not really. You?”

I shook my head. Peter pointed at the eggs in the pan. “You want any?”

“Sure.”

Peter divided the eggs between two plates and pulled up a seat next to me. We ate in silence. When we finished, I said, “So, are we going to talk about it?”

Peter shrugged. “Didn’t we?”

“I mean, where do we stand?” I asked.

“What do you want?” Peter asked.

“I want to keep seeing you,” I said. “But I meant it when I said I want to take things slowly. I don’t think we should just jump back into things. I hate the idea that you’re dating other women, the same way you hate knowing about this Richard thing. But it’s just the reality of the situation, I guess.”

Peter toyed with a lone piece of egg on his plate. “I don’t want to see other women. Do you want to see other guys?”

“Not necessarily,” I said. “But if we decide we’re going to be exclusive, then it’s not really taking it slow, is it?”

“So maybe we don’t take it slow.”

That gave me pause. I fiddled with my napkin. “I just feel like I made this promise to myself that I wasn’t just going to jump right back into a relationship. I need to be okay with being single sometimes. It’s something I’ve never really been able to do.”

Peter pushed himself off the bar stool. He took our plates and dumped them in the sink. “You need to do what you need to do.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you need to make a decision. Just be decisive. What we are right now, it’s not really you being single, is it? So decide to be in, or not.”

Was he ultimatum-ing me? It sure sounded like it. “I don’t want to lose you,” I said, my voice cracking over the words like a prepubescent boy’s.

“So don’t,” Peter said. I wish Richard could have been a fly on the wall right then. Peter didn’t just want to sleep with me. He wanted more. A lot more, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to give it.

“I need time to think about this,” I said. “I don’t know if I’m ready to be in a relationship right now.”

Peter shook his head and smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “Go for it,” he said. The words were dripping with sarcasm.

I helped Peter clean up, then changed back into my work clothes. It was awkward saying goodbye to him—I stepped in to give him a kiss and he basically negged me by turning his cheek. Hell hath no fury like a hot guy’s ego bruised.

I decided to walk back to my apartment to clear my head (Peter lives about twenty-five blocks from me). On my way, I texted Nina and Ashley, ‘Brunch emergency!!!’ I expected Ashley to be in Westchester with her man, but to my surprise, she wrote that she’d come back early that morning.

‘But I’m not really feeling up to brunch,” she wrote. “I think I’m coming down with something.’

‘Please?’ I begged her. ‘I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency. We can pick a place near you.’

After a few moments, she wrote, ‘You win,  you always do.’ A quote from one of our favorite SNL skits with Will Ferrell.

The next person I needed to text was Richard. I wanted Richard in my life, but I also needed to keep him at a safe distance. No good could come from us hooking up, and I couldn’t put myself in a position where that could happen again.

When I arrived at my apartment, I’d decided to text Richard, ‘Thank you for this. Want to just pretend like the last seventy-two hours never happened?’

Then I showered, changed, and hurried out the door to meet Ashley and Nina. Maybe they would help me find some clarity with the situation.