37. Chapter 36
Chapter 36
Jemima
Standing on the sidewalk outside a therapist’s office is daunting. I never thought I’d end up here, but here I am, ready to open up. My life has been a mess, and all I want is to get back in control.
I take a deep breath of cool air and open the door, walking straight up to the receptionist, trying to hide my nerves. She smiles at me, and I realize I was expecting this to be scarier than it actually is. “Hi, I'm checking in. Ms. Recaredo.”
“Can you fill this out and bring it back to me when you’re finished?” she asks, handing me a form.
I take the form and sit down, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Staying in the corner, I fill it out before returning it to her.
Ten minutes later, a woman with short burgundy hair, and bright blue eyes, calls my name. Her sincere smile puts me at ease. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
“Hi, I’m Laura Martinez,” she says, extending her hand as I stand. Her grip is firm but gentle.
“Nice to meet you,” I reply, following her into her cozy office. The space is inviting with plants, warm lighting and a vanilla candle burning.
“Go ahead and make yourself comfortable,” Laura says, gesturing to the chair across from her as she takes a seat.
I sit down, smooth out my clothes, and fidget with my hands in my lap. Laura looks down and then meets my gaze with a reassuring smile. “What made you seek out therapy?” her tone is soft and gentle, as if she’s genuinely interested in hearing my story.
My mind races as I try to figure out where to start. Finally, I take a deep breath and ease back into the chair and go for the truth.
“I can’t trust anyone,” I admit.
“Tell me why you struggle to trust others,” she asks.
“Every time I let someone get close to me, they hide things from me.”
“Explain that a little more.”
“Well, most recently, this guy kept something from me, saying it was to protect me.”
“Do you believe him?”
I picture his face as if he’s right in front of me, replaying his words and body language in my mind.
“Yes,” I sigh.
“Tell me about your relationship with him.”
“We were dating, but not anymore. I told him I need some space.”
Why is it so much easier to say this to her?
“I think it’s good that you’ve given yourself time. Setting boundaries is important.”
Then why does my chest feel this tight? When I see him, I want to fall into his arms. He’s shown me he can be there for me and Chad.
“He’s the first guy who feels like he’s more than just words, you know?”
She nods. “I hear that, but communication is important in relationships, especially when you’re facing hurdles.”
“So you think this is a setback?”
“Do you?” she counters.
Did I overreact to him helping me? Probably, but there’s just been so much pain. Losing my dad, job, Butch’s arrest, my mom being away and the apartment.
“I think so,” I admit.
She smiles. “I think having some coping mechanisms in place will help too.”
“What do you recommend?”
“There’s meditation, breathing techniques, journaling, working out; it's really what works best for you. Next time you feel a hurdle approaching, try one and see which works best.”
As I open up to her about my family, my ex, I realize how badly I want to break my trust issues cycle not only for me, but mostly for Chad. He’s watching and learning every day, and the last thing I want is for him to grow up carrying the same weight of mistrust. The thought of him facing the same struggles feels unbearable, and it pushes me to keep going. She agrees, saying that breaking these patterns can change everything, even if it takes time. We plan to meet again next week, and though there’s a long journey ahead, I feel hopeful for the first time.
I’m determined to give Chad a better example, even if it means facing every old wound along the way.
I arrive at Recaredo Events and head straight to Molly’s desk, pulling up a chair beside her.
She smirks. “I’m going to start calling that your therapy chair soon.”
I laugh, but it falls flat. My mind is a mess. After a real therapy session, I feel like a wrung-out sponge.
“I went to therapy today.”
“Did you go to the place I recommended?” she asks.
“Yeah, I did. So, this isn’t my therapy chair, it’s the chair I come to when I need my friend.”
“I love that you need me,” she says with a grin.
I laugh again. “Therapy was good, but there’s a lot to work through.”
She snorts. “It’s an ongoing battle. It usually doesn’t go away; you’ll be dealing with it long-term. But at least she’ll give you the tools to handle it.”
“I already have homework.”
I need to write a letter to my dad because I recognized some guilt I was holding for not listening to him about Butch. I do think that's some of the reason that I've been putting pressure on myself to make this business thrive.
“I would’ve been surprised if you didn’t. That or I’m more fucked up than you,” she jokes.
I chuckle. God, I needed this. I’m feeling a bit lighter now. Ready to drop the next bombshell, I say, “When I got back from D.C., Harvey was on my doorstep.”
Instead of looking surprised, Molly smirks. “I figured.”
“How did you know?” I ask, puzzled.
“I had my suspicions,” she admits.
I shuffle in the chair. “You know I can’t just take him back like that,” I say, clicking my fingers. “He didn’t just hide one thing; it was multiple things.”
Her smirk fades, and she nods. “I know, and I’m beyond pissed he didn’t tell you exactly what was going on.”
“But finding him on my doorstep… it was hard to say no when he’s given me so much.”
“He did give you the first big job,” she points out.
Oliver’s party was the start of getting consistent, high paying jobs. I’m grateful for that, but I know he had his own agenda.
“But he did it for himself at first, to get his inheritance,” I remind her.
Molly shakes her head. “His brother Jeremy was just here, handing in his event contract, and filled me in. Harvey fell three months short of the deal.”
The realization hits me hard, and my chest tightens. I struggle to breathe.
Molly leans forward, her eyes locked on mine as she delivers her next words like a blow. “He won’t get his inheritance.”
“No,” I whisper, disbelief washing over me.
She gives me a solemn look. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
A lump of guilt forms in my throat, choking me. He was there for everything. He deserved that firm. He helped transform my business in every way, from the aesthetic look to finding new clients, hiring staff, setting up new software, and even handling the paperwork. He was there for everything. He deserves that business. I need to talk to him and see if there’s a way, I can help by talking to his dad.
“Why does it look like you’re about to do something?” Molly asks.
“I’ll go to him,” I say, rising from the chair.
Molly smiles and leans back. “Go to him.”
I rush out the door and head straight to his place in my car, my adrenaline pushing me forward. When I arrive, the security guard informs me that he’s not there. I quickly google his work address and head over.
As I approach the sleek glass tower, the sun in my eyes, I squint and roll back my shoulders before entering. Inside, it’s elegant, with large cream tiles and a large glass desk. Everything is modern and clean. I walk straight to the reception desk and ask for his floor.
She types something, and instead of calling him, she simply tells me I’m on the list. I’m not sure what list, but she directs me to the top floor.
The elevator ride feels slow as nerves rush through me. I watch the floors light up, wishing it would hurry. The higher it climbs, the more the nausea rolls in my stomach. People enter and exit, making time slow down.
When I finally reach the top, I exit and breathe a sigh of relief. Walking up to the receptionist, I remember my manners and introduce myself, asking to see him.
She smiles apologetically. “Oh, you just missed him. Would you like to leave a message?”
With a heavy heart, I say no and leave, feeling defeated and out of ideas. I head back to my office, deciding I’ll call him when I’m alone and can sit down.
As I walk along the sidewalk to my building, I turn a corner and bump into someone, stumbling back on my heels. When I tilt my head up, I find myself staring into a pair of familiar piercing blue eyes.
I gasp. “You’re here?”
“I was looking for you, and when I went to your office, Molly said you had just left to find me,” he says, holding a bouquet of ranunculi in his hands. My chest tightens. What is it about him that gets to me? I’m not one to get emotional, but with him, it’s different, even moments like this leave me feeling everything all at once.