Chapter Fourteen
“And now you're moving to Texas.”
Dr. B crosses one leg over the other as she settles deeper into the chair across from me.
I nod. “Yep. It worked.”
“Well, Josie,” she glances down at her notes, “I feel like you're not entirely convinced of that.”
It takes me a second to realize she's talking to me. Right. Fake name.
I drag my attention away from the wall of stuffed animal heads mounted around the office. Honestly, I really hope those animals were dead before they ended up here.
Dr. B watches me over a pair of upside-down-looking designer glasses.
I blink. Then remember she'd asked a question.
“Oh, no. I love it,” I say with a laugh. “My plan worked. Br… Chad's at work right now trying to arrange a transfer to Austin. Hopefully we'll be moving soon.”
Dr. B narrows her eyes and says. “I feel the need to point out that therapist-patient confidentiality still applies even when the therapist temporarily loses her license.”
“You had your license suspended?” I ask, concerned.
She smiles. “My practice hasn't always been located in the basement of a taxidermy office.”
I smile with all my teeth.
Not reassuring.
“Can I ask why you were...”
“Suspended?”
I nod.
“Well.” She maintains eye contact. “I broke confidentiality.”
Immediately, I start mentally planning my escape route.
Maybe if I fake a phone call. Or a seizure.
Or both.
She clears her throat. “A man confessed to assaulting a young woman. I testified at his trial.”
I blink. “They suspended you for that?”
She nods. “I knew they would.”
“Wow.” I sink farther into the surprisingly comfortable couch. “You must think I'm horrible.”
One eyebrow lifts. “Why would I think that?”
I gesture vaguely between us. “You sacrificed your career for justice and I'm manipulating my husband into moving across the country so I can divorce him there.”
Dr. B doesn't even blink. “Do you think what you're doing is bad?”
I scrunch my nose. “Bad? No. Cold, maybe.” It feels good to finally say this out loud. “I'm honestly a little shocked by how little I feel for him now.”
“When do you think that happened?”
I pull one foot onto the couch and rest my chin on my knee. “When I found out he slept with the surrogate, I was devastated. Angry. But a part of me thought we'd survive it.” I laugh softly. “Not proud of that, by the way.”
Dr. B nods for me to continue.
“Then I found out he might've cheated before and it hurt. That's when I started wanting revenge.” I shrug. “You don't try to get revenge on people you don't care about and I still cared.”
The words feel strange now. Past tense.
“Then he blamed me.” My voice comes out flat.
“He said he didn't mean to. The second it came out of his mouth he tried to take it back. But he still said it.” I stare at the stuffed deer head mounted over her filing cabinet.
“He basically told me that if I'd been able to carry Sophie myself, none of this would've happened.”
I silently curse for slipping and using Sophie's real name. Then immediately remind myself her full name is Sophia anyway.
Why am I acting like James Bond.
“Anyway, that killed it,” I say quietly. “Whatever was left. Whatever we could've salvaged. That killed it.”
Dr. B remains silent.
Which is probably therapist for keep talking.
I sigh.
“Now all I care about is what I want. For me and my daughter.” This is the part I've been struggling with the most. “I want Sophie growing up around family. I want people who actually give a shit about us and not strangers who cut me out because they were afraid of an uncomfortable conversation.”
One of Dr. B's eyebrows rises.
I lazily shake my head. “That's a completely separate disaster.”
Glancing at the time, I realize we've already burned through fifty minutes of the seventy-five-minute session and we've only covered the highlights of my life imploding.
“Why are you here, Josie?” Dr. B asks pointedly.
I look away.
“I guess I needed someone to tell me I'm not the bad guy.” I shrug. “This friend I made recently has been helping me through everything and I already feel like she's doing a lot. I didn't want to dump this on her too.”
“Why haven't you told your family?”
I lick my lips. “They don't exactly like my husband.”
Dr. B waits.
“I was warned. Several times.” I let out a laugh. “My sister and I actually got into a fight the day of my wedding because of it.”
“Because she didn't support your decision?”
“Because she thought I was rebounding.”
The pen in Dr. B's hand stills.
I find myself staring at it as memories begin surfacing.
“I dated this guy once.” I smile sadly. “Dominic.”
The name feels strange in my mouth after all these years.
“At the time,” I continue with a sad laugh, “I thought we were forever. You know.” I look at her. “Typical high school sweethearts.”
“What happened?”
“He always wanted to join the Army. Well, the National Guard.” I wave a hand. “He had an uncle who served and ever since we were kids that was the plan.”
I smile faintly. “I used to be jealous of that.”
“Jealous?”
“He knew what he wanted.” The words leave before I can think about them. “I didn't.”
I glance down at my hands. “I deferred college for a year because of it. He went off to boot camp and we did the whole long-distance thing.”
Dr. B hums. “Long distance is hard.”
“That's the thing.” I put my leg down and shake my head. “It was and it wasn’t. It kinda made the heart grow fonder.”
One of her eyebrows rises.
“We were happy.” I shrug. “I'd write him letters even though email existed. I don't know. It felt more romantic.”
A smile tugs at my lips as I think about the risqué shots I included.
“Every couple weeks I'd spray perfume on the paper and send it out. Looking back, that's probably embarrassing.”
“Or sweet.”
“Let's go with sweet.” I laugh. The smile on my face softens. “The military had this rule where only spouses could live in military housing. At least where he was stationed.” I pause. “So we decided to get married.”
Dr. B's eyebrows rise. “Just like that?”
I nod, letting out a laugh. “I'm not an impulsive person. I like to think things through. Make plans.” I shake my head. “But in that moment, when he said we could get married, I didn't feel the need to plan.”
The memory makes me smile.
“We didn't tell anyone. I bought a white dress from some department store. Nothing fancy.” I laugh. “Then I drove out to the base to meet him.”
Dr. B watches me carefully. “It didn't happen?”
I shake my head. “He wasn't there when I arrived and I didn't think much of it. I just waited because I knew he'd come.”
Dr. B doesn't interrupt.
“He did come.” My smile fades. “About an hour late.”
“And?” she asks when I don’t continue.
I swallow. “He told me he wasn't ready.” I stare down at my hands. “Said he wasn’t ready to be tied down.”
Even now the words sting.
“Then I went to college.” I shrug. “I met Brad and fell for him.”
“Chad?” Dr. B corrects pointedly.
I wince at my slip.
A smile tugs at her lips. “Was he the first person you dated after Dominic?”
“Yeah. Seriously anyway.”
Dr. B doesn't say anything.
“I know how that sounds,” I mutter. “But I really loved him. And he wanted the same things I wanted. A family. A partnership. Stability.”
I stare at the taxidermied deer mounted over the filing cabinet.
“After Dominic, that felt like enough.”
“And your sister didn't think that?” Dr. B asks.
I shake my head. “No. You have to understand, my entire family knew Dominic. He was at our house every other day growing up. But Brad...” I shrug. “He never really spent much time with them.”
Dr. B writes something down, probably correcting the fake name I idiotically gave Brad earlier.
“First we were at NYU. Then we moved to LA. We came home for holidays and stuff, but that's not really the same thing.” I pull at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “I guess my sister thought I was running from the past and straight into LA.”
“Do you think she was right?”
“No,” I answer immediately. “Brad saved me.”
Dr. B's head tilts slightly.
“When I got to New York, suddenly I was single and heartbroken and living in a city that never sleeps.” I used to believe that was just a saying and was very surprised at how true it was.
“Go on.”
“I was headed down a bad path and Brad was this… older, mature guy who knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it, and that was attractive.”
“That's interesting,” Dr. B says after a beat.
I narrow my eyes. “Why's that interesting?”
“Dominic knew exactly what he wanted. Brad knew exactly what he wanted.”
I open my mouth. Then close it again.
“Well.” I guess I have a type.
“Whereas you seem to spend a lot of time talking about what other people wanted.”
I purse my lips.
“When was the last time you made a major life decision that wasn't centered around a man?”
I blink. Then blink again.
“Now,” I point out. “I want to move home.”
“Because he cheated,” she points out.
I make a face. “That's not fair.”
“Isn't it?”
“No.” I sit up straighter. “I do stuff.”
One of her eyebrows rises in question.
I immediately regret my statement.
“You told me you quit your job so you could help the community,” she says. “Yet from what you've told me, you haven't actually done anything.”
I let out a shocked breath. “Wow.”
“I'm not blaming you.”
Could've fooled me.
“I'm just asking.” She sets her pen down. “What do you want?”
I open my mouth but nothing comes out.
“When nobody else matters,” she continues, “when there isn't a husband or a boyfriend or a sister or a daughter to consider, what is it that you want?”
I stare at her.
Then I stare at the stuffed deer.
Then I stare at her again.
“I want a farm house.”