It was Tuesday. Bridget was sitting on her bench, smoking a cigarette with Stillwater whispering in her ear.
"Darling, I am afraid that Nova won't come back the way you expect him to."
"How do I expect him to come back?" Bridget challenged.
"Like he was in the Grove. He might be different. He might be broken."
"Do you think I don't know that? Do you think that isn't something I prepare myself for every time I think about him? Do you think the fucking enchanted playlist isn't screaming that at me with every song? Jesus… you really do think I'm a child."
"Don't get upset with me, Darling. I have seen how you pretend to have coffee with him. You talk to him like you are both still in the Grove. It won't be like that, and you are obviously in denial about how it will be if you meet him again."
"That is magic, Stillwater. That is me creating a vibe. That is my hopes and dreams. That is intention setting. It is not a reflection of what I really think will happen. It is what I hope will happen. What I think will happen is almost too unbearable to say. It is not easy, it is not pretty. But whatever the reality is, I am committed to it. And what I am doing now, what you see as naivety is seeding love, remembering the easy parts, so when it gets hard I have something to lean on."
"I am so sorry Bridget. I have underestimated you. I promise you… I will NEVER do that again."
"Of course you won't," Bridget huffed.