Chapter Five
Alfie
The hellion was flirting with not one, not two, but three guys.
Three guys who were drooling and hanging off every word she said like they wanted to audition for a reverse harem novel with her as the centerpiece.
Palm on forearms, smiling like they are the funniest men she’s ever met, when really they’re probably joking that they could bench press her and take her on an all expenses paid trip to Mexico.
All whilst she leaves her boring, predictable boss to fend for himself and live a life alone because of his own stupid, choices which he whole-heartedly agrees with and lives by despite this annoying twinge in my chest every time I think about her with another man. Jesus Christ.
I need to down this whiskey and leave. Go home. Get into bed. Strangle my cock with my fist and sleep. If I leave now, I could get at least six hours before giving one hundred percent to my patients tomorrow.
Why are so many people out on a Monday night? This is ridiculous. I’m tempted to pull the fire alarm just so everyone has to leave, and it might kick Mia into leaving too. But then what if she went home with one of them? What if she went home with all three?
Nope. I will sit and wait as punishment for being an ass.
“Hey, you’re looking a little lonely over here,” a soft velvet voice says as I glance at the woman in question. Brunette, tall, blue eyes. She’s kind of like Mia, but not.
“Just looking for a quiet night,” I reply.
“I figured you were waiting for that girl to notice you staring at her.” She laughs. “But it looks like you might need to get in line.”
A low possessive growl crawls up my throat, but it doesn't deter the woman now blocking my view of Mia.
“You could pretend I’m her if you like?” My eyes snap to hers, and she shrugs. “I’m looking for a good time, not a marriage proposal. I don’t mind you calling me someone else’s name.”
Good God. This is why I don’t date. Don’t pursue women. I go into therapist mode every time.
“I’m good.”
“I bet you are.” She winks, clearly not taking a hint.
“Listen, I’m sure you’re lovely and wonderful and a lot of fun. But I don’t like that woman. I’m simply making sure she doesn’t make any stupid decisions that get her in trouble.”
“Why would you do that?” She withdraws, scoffing.
“She’s my receptionist.”
She rolls her eyes, and it’s not until she heads toward Mia and not the original table she came from that I realize my mistake. Women supporting women—I’m totally here for it. Keep each other safe, make sure you’re all aware of the dangers. But I’m not a danger; I’m just a self-diagnosed idiot.
The woman marches straight to Mia, whispering in her ear and then pointing directly at me. Maybe she’ll be happy to see me, happy that I want to keep her safe and—oh, nope. She’s furious. Of course.
She storms over, blue eyes blazing like the hottest part of a flame, ready to incinerate me.
“Why the fuck do you keep calling me your receptionist? My title is office manager, and I do a hell of a lot more than answer your goddamn phones, Alfie, so stop insulting me and go home.”
That’s what she’s upset about? Not that I have turned up for the second time this evening to her location.
It concerns me that she’s not concerned.
Any smart woman like herself surely would see that as a red flag.
I should be more worried, but she called me Alfie again after nearly a week of Dr. Adams, and I can’t fight the small tug at my lips.
“Don’t fucking laugh right now.”
“I’m not.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “It’s getting late, and I need to get to bed. Are you coming?”
“Wh-what? No, I'm not coming.” Her eyes are wide as they dip to my lips. She’s tipsy at the very least, and that question could have been construed in multiple ways.
I didn’t mean, is she coming to be with me.
I meant, is she coming so I can drop her home first. But isn’t it funny that little Miss Sinclair’s first thought was that I was asking her to come to bed with me?
“I’ll drive you home. It’s late, and I need to go to bed.”
“So go to bed.”
“Mia, please. I’m begging you. I know you’re only twenty-eight. But I’m thirty-five. I can’t do this. I’m tired. So let’s stop playing this game. You can stop throwing your tantrum, and I can get some sleep so I don’t have to down six cups of coffee and give myself heartburn tomorrow.”
“You think I’m throwing a tantrum?”
“You literally ran away from our conversation earlier.”
“Me stepping away from a toxic boss who is, not for the first time, impeding on my personal time, is not a tantrum. It’s setting boundaries. And I’m going to tell you now, Dr. Adams—" she pokes a finger into my chest, “—you can go fuck yourself.”
She stalks out of the bar, and I get three bruising scowls from the guys at the bar she had been flirting with. At least we’re all being punished, and I don’t have to watch her leave with one or all of them.
◆◆◆
Helen, my patient, sits quietly on the couch as I try to keep my strained eyes open.
I’m exhausted. Three cups of coffee, and by my count, twelve scowls from Mia, and it’s only three p.m. It doesn’t help that photos of us arguing at the bar from last night are circulating online thanks to my local celebrity status.
It doesn’t paint a great picture of Mia, who is jabbing her finger into my chest, screaming as I look perpetually exhausted.
It’s not what she’s like at all, and I hate that I’m dragging her into this mess even further, especially now the media thinks we’re dating.
I need to fix this quickly.
“I think I will go on that date on Friday,” Helen finally says.
“Tell me your concerns about going.”
She thinks for a moment. “I’m worried that he sees me as an easy mark because he knows what I went through with Trevor.”
I shift in my seat. “You feel that he’s targeting you?”
“Yes and no. When I take my feelings out of the equation, I think he’s a wonderful person, and I’m glad to have him in my life. He knew Trevor, knew how he treated me and helped me on numerous occasions. He was even a witness at Trevor’s trial.”
Helen’s ex-husband was incredibly abusive.
Physically, emotionally, financially. She was a shell of a person when she started sessions with me eighteen months ago.
She didn’t even want to have the door closed, so we kept it open and made sure her session was the last one of the day so there were no other patients around, just Mia.
Eventually, I started inching the door closed more and more until one day about six months ago. I closed it, and she didn’t notice. We’ve kept it closed ever since.
I assumed that Helen learning to trust people again would be the hardest part of her recovery, but it wasn’t.
Learning to trust herself has been. Her own judgment, her own gut feeling.
Because her ex-husband controlled every thought she had about herself and others.
She was completely under his control, and it’s hard for her to think for herself.
So when her neighbor, Andrew, started spending more and more time with her, she waited for the penny to drop. Waiting for his true colors to show. And who can blame her?
Now he’s asked her out on a date on Friday, and her even considering going is fantastic progress.
And the fact that I’m available on Friday to go and make sure everything runs smoothly puts me at ease.
She’ll be safe on the first date she’s had since her ex was incarcerated and the divorce finalized.
“And with your emotions involved?”
“I can’t understand why he would want to take me out. I mean, I’m not very fun. I don’t dress up or anything. I’m just rebuilding, and it’s taking so long. He’ll run out of patience soon, so why bother getting my hopes up?”
I nod. “Although I don’t believe those things are true.
I do understand why you would feel that way, and honestly, it’s not an uncommon reaction.
You’re taking a risk by allowing yourself to be in a position to be hurt again, to be taken advantage of.
So you’re using old insults and excuses that Trevor would have said to you to avoid trying something new. ”
She laughs. “Aren’t you supposed to convince me to go?”
I smile. “Not at all. What I want doesn’t really matter, Helen. You already know if you want to go. And you already know if you’re going to act on that want or not.”
“I do? Then what am I paying you for?”
I shrug, laughing, folding the notepad over on my lap, indicating our session was coming to an end.
“Beats me. Perhaps another thing to think about. You’ve made great progress.
Now, as you said, you’re just rebuilding.
I can help you with that, or you can do it alone.
It’s really up to you. It’s your life, Helen. ”
She stands up, picking up her purse as she heads to the door. “Oh, Dr. Adams, I can’t tell you how pleased I am to hear about you and Mia on social media. It’s about time, don’t you think?”
“About time?”
“That you admitted you like each other. It’s very obvious to us patients.” She winks, heading out the door and waving to Mia.
◆◆◆
Friday rolls around, and Mia is still barely talking to me.
Instead, she eyes me suspiciously every time I take a sip of my coffee, which has me slightly concerned she’s spit in my drink.
She’s dressed to kill, a tight skirt cinched in at her waist, a light blue blouse tucked in with one button below decent.
She’s acting out. Furious with me over Monday night and my pitfall of being on daytime television and nicknamed Dr. Angel.
Social media is obsessed with the state of my personal life, which is, in their eyes, falling apart at the seams. Lottie has called me every day to fix things before it’s too late.
Mia has every right to make a formal complaint with the Psychological Society, not just about me following patients, but also following her.