Secret Twins For My Ex’s SEAL Best Friend (Billionaire Silver Foxes’ Club)

11. Delia

eleven

Delia

Monday rolled around, and it was time for me to return to what I truly loved to do: help people.

Mondays through Fridays were so full for me, with school and my hours at the counseling center, but I never felt tired of it. I may get tired, but not tired of it. Knowing that I was working toward a degree and a career helping veterans heal from their traumas made it all worth it.

The hardest part of my day wasn’t listening to people’s problems. It was usually seeing Jeremy and pretending not to be hurt, just looking at him.

I had trouble trusting men after my dad, and Jeremy had really hurt me. But I knew he meant well, and he was my supervisor, so I got through it.

One day, when I had my own practice, I would look back at this time in my life, and it would seem so far away. I just knew it.

Or I hoped anyway.

I drove to the counseling center on autopilot, my mind on Robert. The way he had manhandled that man at the bar had turned me on, though I hated to admit that to myself. I wanted to be more evolved than that, but seeing him be so protective was sexy, whether it was primal or not.

I tightened my grip around the steering wheel as I thought of that look in his eyes as he held that man by the collar, the pure anger and disgust I’d seen in them. It had hurt to see that look turned against me a moment later.

And the way he’d brought up our kiss. What did it all mean, really? How was I supposed to feel? What was I supposed to think?

A more evolved woman would ignore him, Delia. He’s your ex’s best friend. It’s too messy. Jeremy is still in your life, and you care about him.

I arrived at the office, a tall gray building with all of the offices, all the workers living their own lives, maybe some of them living out their dreams or getting there, like me. They were all doing such different things. Some were dentists, and some were real estate agents. The building was funny like that, a collection of people from all walks.

I took the elevator up and rooted in my purse to put away my keys as I stepped onto my floor.

From the hallway, I could hear the white noise machine that Jeremy and the other therapist played to make sure waiting clients couldn’t hear an ongoing session.

I could already smell the calming eucalyptus wafting into the hallway, and it put a smile on my face, knowing how close I was.

I loved doing this. It was like healing a childhood part of me, that part of me that just wanted her dad to be able to be a normal dad.

I opened the door and could feel my face blanch as I saw Robert sitting at the end of the small space, right next to the door I had to walk into.

His hands were folded in his lap, and he was staring straight ahead as though he was disassociating. I could recognize that glassy look anywhere.

But he sure snapped out of it when he saw me. For just a moment, I saw a spark of recognition, instantly superimposed by him convincing himself he was making it up. Then it clicked for him – why I’d be here – and he looked up at me from his chair again.

It made sense that I’d see him here. I’d probably seen him hundreds of times and never put it together. But now that I knew his face so intimately, it was hard to miss.

His green eyes seemed to read through to my soul, and I looked away, afraid to give our relationship away. It wasn’t right in a space like this to call attention to it.

I breezed past him, muttering, “Excuse me,” and walked into the office where I knew I’d find Jeremy.

“Hi, Delia,” he said, without looking up from the stack of papers in front of him. When he found what he needed, he pulled it apart from the stack and turned it upside down on the desk. His eyes found mine, and he furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong?”

I pointed to the door, hoping that the white noise machine would keep what I was about to say private. “Is Robert our client?”

Jeremy moved from around the desk and walked over to the camera to make sure the view was correct. We had to record every session, or I wouldn’t get my hours, and if I didn’t get my hours, I wouldn’t graduate.

I watched him fiddling with it, and then he said, “He is today.”

“Where’s Tim?” I asked, my voice rising to a higher pitch than I meant for it to.

Tim was the man for whom I usually attended sessions with Jeremy. Tim should have been here, not Robert. I couldn’t sit next to Jeremy and listen to Robert talk. It was wrong. He deserved someone impartial.

Jeremy glanced at me from behind the camera, his face still scrunched in confusion. “Tim had another appointment he couldn’t miss. Why, what does it matter?”

“It matters because we know Robert. I know Robert. I can’t help therapize Robert!” I pointed to the door aggressively, picturing Robert out in the hallway with his ear against the wall.

It wasn’t right. Robert deserved a safe space away from me. No matter what was going on with us, if there was an us – not that I wanted there to be an us – he deserved that. Everyone did.

“You can, and you will, Delia. You need the hours.” He sat down on the therapy couch and patted the spot next to him. “Come sit. Talk to me about what’s going on.”

I stood where I was and crossed my arms. “I’ll make up the hours then. Who cares? I can stay longer another day. This is a conflict of interest. I can’t do it.”

Anger flashed across his face, but it melted away quickly. I must have imagined it. “You barely know Robert. What are you even talking about? How is this a conflict of interest?”

I didn’t say anything, opting instead to chew on my bottom lip. I looked down at the floor.

This scenario made me uncomfortable, and I didn’t like that Jeremy was pushing it.

Finally, I gathered the courage, and I said, “Well, you know him really well. You definitely shouldn’t be therapizing him.” I set my jaw as I said it and watched his face for signs of a suspicious reaction.

“So then you’ll take the lead. It isn’t a conflict of interest to therapize your self-defense teacher that you’ll meet on weekends for one month.” He chuckled, and I started to doubt myself.

Was he right?

All my schooling told me that he wasn’t, but he would know better than I would.

Wouldn’t he?

I didn’t say anything, and Jeremy got off the couch, stepping toward me. “Delia, are you safe?”

His question caught me off guard, and I dropped my crossed arms. “Safe? What do you mean?”

“I know people are bothering you at work. And you started taking those self-defense classes.” He stepped even closer to me, his hands out as if to wrap me in a hug.

I brought my eyebrows together. I couldn’t seem to wipe the look off my face. “I—bothering me at work?”

“Didn’t a man bother you the other day at work? Or is that not true?”

The man with the wallet. But how would Jeremy know about that?

The expression on my face turned from confusion to anger as I realized exactly how Jeremy would know about that.

“Did you talk to Robert about me?” I accused, tilting my head at him.

“So it’s true then? Do you need resources, Delia? We could get you another job if you need money that badly.” His voice was soothing, but his eyes were expressionless, simply prying.

He moved to take my hands, and I stepped away from him. “I don’t need another job.”

“So you feel safe?”

“Of course, I feel safe. But, I’m not—I’m not doing this, Jeremy, I’m sorry. You’ll have to find someone else.”

“Delia!” he called after me as I grabbed my purse and walked out the door. I bumped into Robert’s knee as I did, and I stumbled slightly.

Robert’s hand shot out to catch me, and his hands on my body again brought up memories that I didn’t need rolling in my head at that moment.

“Excuse me,” I muttered, looking at him at the insistence of something in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked me. He looked strangely sad, and for a moment, I almost considered staying.

Almost.

“I’m fine. Let me go please.” I extracted myself from his grasp and kept walking down the hallway, out of the space, down the hallway of the building, into the elevator, and out of the building into my car.

How could they? Who do they think they are talking about me together? What business is it of either of theirs? What business am I of either of theirs?

I drove in a blind rage, my mind racing with images of the two of them cozied up together, discussing my job and how dangerous they thought it was.

How dare they? Neither of them had any claim over me, and they certainly couldn’t tell me where to work. Neither of them paid my bills!

I felt my mouth going dry and my heart racing, and I pulled over to take inventory of how my body felt. The anxiety was all over my body, in my pounding heart and in my quick breathing. I was definitely triggered by the idea of the two of them talking.

And this time, it wasn’t guilt. No, it was the memory of all they had put me through the year before – the two of them chatting away about me and Jeremy and our relationship. They had been conspiring together, those two, until it destroyed my relationship. And now it seemed they were back at it.

Those two needed to stop discussing me. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t deserve it then, and I didn’t deserve it now.

I breathed out of my mouth slowly and closed my eyes, hearing the racing of the cars on the road beside me. I would be okay.

But I needed to figure out how to make this stop. I couldn’t deal with them talking about me anymore.

It wasn’t good for anyone.