Chapter 32
Nic
The envelope is insultingly thin considering it holds the end of my career. My name is typed neatly across the front, the seal of the California Board of Psychology stamped in navy ink.
I sit at my desk in silence for a long time before finally sliding a finger under the flap.
The letter is as formal as I expected. The board has reviewed my statement. My request has been granted. I have thirty days to wind down my practice, after which my license will be suspended indefinitely.
There it is. Thirty days to say goodbye to the work that has shaped my life. Thirty days to tell my clients, to hand them over to new therapists, to dismantle everything I built. Thirty days to face the fact that I will no longer be a licensed psychologist.
A heavy silence hangs in my office. For so long, this room was a place where people came with the sole purpose of talking. Now I sit here wondering if I’ll ever find a purpose of my own again.
I’ll have to do something. I’m not the type to do nothing. I’m simply not wired for it. Helping people has been stitched into my bones for too long. And there are still plenty of people out there who need help.
My gaze drifts to the picture of Lois I keep on my desk. In it, she smiles the way she always did: eyes full of love but also, always, some sort of challenge in them. Would she be proud of me? Or outraged? Love would never have outraged Lois. Not in a million years.
“You don’t need a license to help people,” Lois would say. Her voice sounds in my head as she says it. “You’ll figure it out,” she says next, although I know it’s actually me saying it to myself. “You always do.”
And I will. But first, I go home to Avery.
At Avery’s, to cheer me up after getting that letter, she agrees to watch her latest movie, Deadline for Love, with me.
“It’s A Very big honor that I get to watch this movie with A-very Hall,” I say.
“That’s just terrible, Nic,” she says.
“Terribly true,” I say as I snuggle up to her.
“I’ll let it slide, but just this once.” She intertwines her fingers with mine and leans into me.
She presses play and I haven’t watched TV with someone in so long, just the act of doing so is gratifying.
And despite my lame joke, I am watching this movie with her.
With Avery Hall. And it’s such a trip to see her on the screen as well as have her sit next to me—our fingers intertwined and our bodies always touching.
When she kisses her co-star in the movie, I can’t help but cringe.
“It’s not real, babe,” Avery whispers in my ear.
“I only want to kiss you.” Her breath flows across the sensitive skin of my neck and I have to stop myself from kissing her—if only to erase the image I just saw on TV from my brain.
But what we have between us is so physical, I decide that restraint has value too.
That just sitting together, without being all over each other, and giving in to that red-hot physicality, is perhaps even a requirement.
It’s hardly a punishment to sit and watch the rest of the movie.
It’s funny with sparkling dialogue that Avery delivers with the panache of the greatest—Ida Burton comes to mind.
In the final scene, when Avery’s character has to really kiss her male co-star, I can watch without flinching—because I’m so impressed with how excellent an actor she is.
“What an absolute fucking delight,” I say, when the credits roll.
“Dr. Cougar.” Avery grins. “Language, please.”
“What’s it like watching yourself on TV?” I turn toward her.
“I used to hate it, but I’m better at it now.”
“Compared to Queer Girl Summer this movie is very tame.”
“I don’t sit around rewatching that movie.” Avery shakes her head.
“I would love to watch it with you sometime.”
“I bet you would.” Avery waggles her eyebrows, then pulls me to her. She draws me in for a kiss and, as always, the kiss deepens quickly. Again, I stop myself from letting it go where it inevitably would.
“Everything okay?” Avery asks, all but licking her lips.
“Fine, but, um, I think my body needs a rest.” It’s not a complete lie. Emotionally, it’s been a draining couple of days, which always has an effect on my body. “Can we just… be together?”
“Of course.” Avery smiles warmly. “I love being with you.”
“How about I make us some dinner?”
“That would be amazing.” Avery’s smile turns into a grin. “We’ve been in the tabloids and you haven’t even cooked for me yet.”
“How do you even know you want to stay with me?” I quip.
“I’ve eaten plenty of you to know that I do.” Avery can’t help herself.
“Ooh.” I purse my lips. “That’s almost as bad as my A-very joke from earlier.”
“Good thing neither of us are after a career in comedy.” Avery looks so scrumptious again in that denim shirt, with her hair all wild. Most certainly good enough to eat.
“Yeah.” The sudden topic shift to careers, even in jest, stops me from rolling with our banter.
“If you need more cheering up, I’m willing to watch QGS with you.” Avery grabs hold of my hand.
“Really?” Even though we’re playing, I know she means it.
“Anything for my old lady.” She looks me in the eye, and the vibe shifts again. “I will never take what you did for me—for us—lightly, Nic.”
“I know.” Even though I lost a great deal, it doesn’t feel like a sacrifice. All I have to do is look at Avery, and I feel it everywhere. Sometimes, life makes the choice for you.
“How about that dinner?” I say.
“Can I observe?” There’s that irresistible smirk again.
“We just watched you so it’s only fair you get to watch me now.” I kiss her on the cheek before getting up. “I enjoy a glass of wine when cooking. Do you have any?” I’ve never seen Avery drink a drop of alcohol—something else we haven’t discussed yet.
“I even have a wine fridge.” She jumps up, takes my hand, and leads me to the kitchen.
“I’m impressed by how many gadgets you have.” I can’t really help myself either when I’m around her.
“Do you want white, red, rosé, or something with bubbles?”
“Red would be nice.” I glance around her state-of-the-art kitchen. “You don’t drink?”
“Nah.” She shakes her head. “I never liked the taste of alcohol.”
“Fair enough.” I smile. “More for me, then.”
She pours me a glass of wine, and when she hands it to me she says, “Don’t you think it’s time you met my friends?”
“High time.” I take the glass from her, our fingers touching.
Avery is the one who pulls away first, before it can turn into something else again. “I’ll set it up.”
Another something to look forward to in my new life.