Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
MIRA
“ M ira,” my former mother-in-law calls and her voice is like nails on a chalkboard. I groan and let out a sigh.
“Just ignore her,” I tell Mason and step back. His hands stay on my arms and our eyes lock, holding the gaze for just a second too long. His hazel eyes are rimmed with dark green, and I didn’t notice it until now, with the sunlight reflecting off of them. “Or arrest her,” I add and step back, shaking myself back to reality.
“Well, I wasn't expecting this.” Karen stops and shakes her hair back. She was a good looking woman back in the early nineties and has hung onto that look ever since. I give her kudos for not caving to societal trends and for sticking to the overly teased hair and contrasting lip liner. Her drawn-on eyebrows are still pencil thin and I’m choked by the overpowering scent of her perfume.
It’s strange, how for years this woman called me the daughter she always wanted and then suddenly changed her tune when she realized her son was having an affair. She hid it, helped him cover his tracks, and even justified not only the physical abuse I endured but the fact that he cheated, saying he was a needy boy who needed extra love.
Barf.
Just admit you wish you were still breastfeeding him at this point, woman.
“Hello, Karen,” I say with a fake smile. “It’s been over two years. Time to move on.”
“Apparently you have. A little fast, don’t you think? It’s like my son meant nothing to you.”
“No, I don’t. Have a nice day.” I give Mason’s arm a tug and we start walking again. He takes an interested look at Karen and then waits until we’re out of earshot to look at me curiously.
“Mother of a former boyfriend?”
“Husband,” I say ruefully. “Filed for divorce years ago.”
“Ahhh, the mother-in-law. Or a monster-in-law in your situation?”
“Oh, definitely a monster.” I shrug. “Though she wasn’t always. We got along really well until her son got caught.”
“Cheating?”
I nod. “And…never mind.”
“Okay,” he says and doesn’t pry. I’m an open book when it comes to the past traumas I’ve dealt with since it’s a big focus on my podcast, but I also know the overhearing is a trauma response. It’s something I help my clients deal with, but I’m better at giving advice than taking it. “She’s taking pictures of you.”
I’m tempted to turn around and look but resist. “She always does. I don’t know why.” I let out a snort of laughter. “One of my friends saw her standing outside a restaurant once holding a binder full of screenshots of all my social media posts.”
“Someone is obsessed with you.”
“You can say that again.”
He shakes his head and puts his arm around me. “Might as well give her something to talk about.”
I laugh and look up at him. “Ohh, two fake boyfriends in a row.”
“Consider this practice for tonight.”
Fuck, it’s been so long that I’ve had any physical contact from a man. That’s why Mason’s arm feels so good around my shoulders. Nothing more, nothing less. We take a seat on a bench and Violet’s tail wags as she sniffs around a garbage can.
“So tonight,” Mason starts, getting his phone out. “You’re going as Mya. What do you do for work?”
“I’m a child psychologist with an office is Highland Park and if he looks up the number I gave him, it will pull up a website stating all that, including a picture of me sitting in my office with a fake degree from the University of Chicago that can be zoomed in on so you can see the name Mya Turner on it.”
Mason looks at me for a second and then nods. “I’m impressed and a little concerned.”
“Concerned?”
“You’re just a citizen with no training.”
I raise my eyebrows. “It’s not that hard to fool a man who just wants to get in your pants.”
“True,” he agrees. “Though we need to go into this assuming he’s not the only one who’ll be looking into you. What if he wants to make an appointment?”
“For himself? I only see children. And if he tries to book a sibling or a cousin or whatever, it’s a conflict of interest.”
“What if he tells a friend that he knows this great child psychologist and they try to book an appointment?”
“I’m booked months out and have a waiting list. If the person actually has a child that needs to be seen, I’ll reach out with a recommendation of a colleague.”
Mason just nods. “You’ve thought this out.”
“I have,” I say, not telling him that my dream was to be doing exactly what he’s doing. I was in college when I met Cory and I still feel like a fraud for getting all As in my psych and human behavior classes while being swindled by a legit narcissist at the same time.
But everything happens for a reason and if life hadn’t handed me a one-way ticket to Hell, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. Because crawling my way out of Hell taught me so many lessons, and those are lessons I’m able to teach others before they arrive at the Pit.
“So, Mulder, we good?”
“Hah. Like no one has ever called me that.” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. We’re good. Just don’t think you know better than me. I’m the professional here. You follow my leads, don’t go rogue, and don’t go out of eyesight.” He reaches into his pocket and gives me a folded up piece of paper. “Tickets for the Skydeck. Meet me there at seven-thirty. There will be an Uber waiting for you after, to take you to the restaurant.”
“But it’s not really an Uber, is it?” I can’t help but get excited. This doesn’t feel like real life and if I put my therapist hat on, I would say I’m dissociating a bit, thinking about this as if it’s a real movie about to play out.
“No, it’s not. I’ll tell you the make and model of the car along with a plate number tonight.”
“Okay.” I nod a few times, trying hard to keep the smile off my face. “Rendezvous at seven-thirty, Special Agent Mason.”
“Harris,” he corrects. “Special Agent Harris.” He shakes his head and lets out a breath. “Just call me Mason. You’ll blow our cover otherwise.”
“Oh come on, no one is around.”
“Other than your ex mother-in-law.” He tips his head and I look over, seeing Karen holding her phone at her side, acting as if she’s walking down the path in our direction.
“She’s so obvious,” I sigh. “At least pretend to take a selfie so it doesn’t look like you’re recording, right? Ugh. Karen is the most fitting name for her.”
Mason’s eyes land on me for a bit and I can feel him studying me.
“You got cheated on and the divorce must have been ugly. And now you encourage couples to break up as well as moonlight as a private investigator to catch other men cheating so no one else has to go through what you went through.”
“I only encourage them to break up if they should.”
“If you think they should. And I’m sensing a lot of bias.”
He’s not wrong, and it’s pissing me off. Because deep down at the core, I still feel like a fraud. But not for being swindled again, but because I’m a couple’s therapist who doesn’t believe in love.