Chapter 31
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
JULIE
"Please, sit," Dr. Reeves says, gesturing to the empty chair closest to her. Her tone is pleasant, but there's steel underneath it. This isn't a request.
I look at Devon. She's already settling into the chair next to Asher, her expression serene. As for my husband, he’s trying hard to pull off concerned. But I swear, both of them are watching me with barely contained glee.
I look at Dr. Reeves, who's watching me with that same cool, assessing gaze. I sit for two reasons. The first is that my legs have turned to fucking jelly and my heart is slamming against my chest. I am thisclose to having a panic attack. The other reason I don’t bolt is because I don't know what else to do.
Because if I leave, I'm the problem. If I refuse to participate, I'm unsupportive.
If I do anything except smile and go along with this, I'm the villain.
The office is massive, decorated in the same expensive, understated style as the waiting room. Dr. Reeves settles into her chair across from us. She picks up a leather-bound notebook and obscenely expensive gold pen.
It’s a Montblanc, which I recognize because I’d done a ton of research when I bought one for Asher’s father as a gift for his birthday.
"Thank you all for being here," Dr. Reeves says, her red lips curving into something I think is supposed to appear as a gentle smile but gives me a Cruella DeVille vibe.
"I know this feels a bit unexpected for some of you, but I really think this is going to be productive."
Her eyes land on me when she says "unexpected," and I feel my face flush.
"Devon has been making wonderful progress in our sessions," Dr. Reeves continues, "but I think it's important that we bring the whole family into the conversation. Grief doesn't happen in isolation, and neither does healing."
That sounds reasonable. Professional. But her eyes are saying something else.
"Devon," Dr. Reeves says, turning to her with a soft smile. "Why don't you start by telling us how you've been feeling lately?"
Devon takes a breath, and I watch her transform. Her shoulders curve inward slightly, her voice goes soft. "It's been really hard," she says. "I'm so grateful to Asher and Julie for letting me stay with them, but I know it's been difficult. I hate being a burden."
"You're not a burden," Asher says immediately, reaching over to take her hand in his.
Dr. Reeves nods approvingly. "That's beautiful, Asher. That kind of support is exactly what Devon needs right now."
I can’t help noticing that Asher is still holding Devon’s hand, his thumb stroking over the back of it. I remember when he used to do that with me.
The doctor turns to me. "Julie, how do you think you’re reacting to having Devon in your home?"
The question feels loaded. Like there's a right answer and a wrong answer, and I'm about to give the wrong one. I look away from Asher and Devon’s hands.
"It's been an adjustment," I say carefully. "For everyone."
"Of course." Dr. Reeves' smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Change is always challenging, especially in a marriage that's in its infancy. Just two years, correct?”
"Yes."
"Then you're still learning each other's rhythms, still figuring out how to navigate conflict and stress together." She says it like she's being understanding, but it feels like she's talking down to me. Like I'm a child who needs things explained slowly.
"You don't truly know your husband yet. Not really. So adding a traumatized teenager to that dynamic would be challenging for even the most confident person."
I agree with nothing she just said. There's something wrong with this woman. Guess that explains why Devon isn't getting any better.
"I’m told that you and Asher went out to celebrate your anniversary," Dr. Reeves continues, and there's something in her tone now. Something pointed. "Tell me what happened."
I glance at Asher. He's staring at the doctor, not looking at me at all. "We were unable to celebrate," I say.
"Because Asher had to leave your celebration early to care for Devon." Dr. Reeves leans forward slightly, her long fingers steepled in front of her. "She feels very guilty about that. Don't you, Devon?"
Devon nods, her eyes downcast. "I didn't mean to ruin their night. I just… I was having a really hard time, and I didn't know what else to do."
"Of course you didn't," Dr. Reeves says warmly, reaching over to pat Devon's knee. The gesture is intimate, familiar.
“You were in crisis. You needed support. That's completely understandable. No reasonable adult could judge you for it. Panic attacks don’t schedule a time or date"
Then she turns to me, and her expression cools. "Julie, I'm curious. How did you feel when Asher left you behind?"
Left me behind. The wording is intentional. I know it is. But if I call it out, I’ll be labeled crazy. So I take a breath and answer the question. "Disappointed," I say.
"Just disappointed?" Dr. Reeves tilts her head. "Devon mentioned that you seemed quite upset. Angry, even."
Angry. There it is. The word that makes me sound unreasonable. "That's interesting since I didn’t see Devon that night because I didn’t go home. I’m not sure why she thought I was angry. I was upset," I admit. "But I understood that Devon needed him."
"The fact that you didn't go home suggests otherwise though." Dr. Reeves' tone is gentle, but there's a challenge underneath it. "Because Devon has expressed concern that you seem to be harboring some resentment toward her. She feels like you see her as an intrusion in your marriage."
I look to Devon. She's looking down at her hand, clutched inside of my husband’s. "I don't resent her," I say. The words ring hollow to my own ears because they are hollow. I'm not even lying. I don’t just resent her. Truly.
Right now, at this very moment, I fucking hate her. Violently. Deeply. To the depths of my soul. I hate her. And if I could turn back time, I'd never have invited her into my home.
"It's okay to be honest, Julie." Dr. Reeves' voice is soft, condescending. "This is a safe space. We're all here to support each other."
I can't contain a snicker of derision. A safe place. Get the fuck out of here. "Sure."
Dr. Reeves waits for a few seconds to see if I'll say more. I stay silent, cock my head, and wait for her to continue. She nods to herself and writes something on her pad before speaking again.
"Devon is going through an incredibly difficult time," she says.
"She's lost her mother and stepfather in a traumatic accident.
She's displaced from her home, her panic attacks made in person school impossible so she’s home alone, and her entire life has changed.
She needs stability and consistency from the people around her.
She needs to feel safe, both physically and emotionally. "
Safe. Like I'm a fucking threat? Is this really happening?
"What Devon needs right now," Dr. Reeves says, her eyes locked on mine, "is for the adults in her life to regulate their emotions and provide a calm, supportive environment.
She needs to know that she's not going to be punished for having needs.
That she's not going to be made to feel guilty for existing. "
The words hang in the air like accusations. "I've never once made her feel guilty," I say, and I can hear the edge in my voice now.
"Haven't you, though?" Dr. Reeves leans back in her chair, crossing her legs again.
"Devon says you seem tense around her. That you're often short with her, dismissive. From some of the things Asher has told me, I’d say there’s a fair amount of passive aggression.
Devon can see all of that. She feels like she's walking on eggshells in her own home. "
Her own home. Not my home. Not our home. Hers. "I think there might be some miscommunication," I say carefully.
"Or perhaps," Dr. Reeves says, "there's some underlying stress that you're not addressing. Perhaps jealousy?"
I dead stare her. "Jealous of a teenage girl?"
The doctor's eyes narrow. "Are you saying you're not?"
I roll my eyes. "That's exactly what I'm saying. Try again.”
Her eye twitches. Good.
"Okay. If that's not your stress point, perhaps it's something else. Devon mentioned that you run a business with your sister. That must be very demanding."
"It is, but?—"
"And as I said earlier, you're also trying to navigate a relatively new marriage, which comes with its own challenges." Dr. Reeves is building a case now, I can feel it. "It's possible that you're feeling overwhelmed, and that stress is manifesting as tension in your interactions with Devon."
I'm feeling overwhelmed because there's a manipulative teenager living in my house and my husband is choosing her over me at every turn. But I can't say that. Because if I say that, I'm the villain.
"I think what Dr. Reeves is saying," Asher interjects, and I want to scream at him for speaking, "is that we should all be more mindful of how we're communicating. Right?"
The betrayal cuts like a fucking knife, even though it isn’t a surprise. Judas.
"Exactly," Dr. Reeves says, beaming at him.
"Communication and emotional regulation are key.
Devon needs to feel safe expressing her needs without fear of judgment or resentment.
Without her very existence being used like a weapon in marital warfare.
And Julie, you need to find healthy ways to manage your stress so that it doesn't impact the household dynamic. "
Manage my stress. Emotional regulation. Household dynamic. She's making it sound like I'm the problem. Like I'm the one who needs to be fixed. This bitch is insane. She has no business treating anyone.
"I think it would be really beneficial," Dr. Reeves continues, "for you to consider some individual therapy, Julie.
Just to have a space where you can process your feelings, work through your abandonment issues, and develop some coping strategies for this transition.
Maybe two or three sessions per week to really get this issue resolved. "