Chapter 17
Andromeda
adoor, checking the number to make sure it matches the one on my phone.
This is it.
Nancy Clemmins, LMFT. The office of my new therapist.
The waiting room is small but quiet, with abstract art on the walls. I try to find meaning in them, like those inkblot tests I learned about in my AP Psychology class senior year, but I think I’m just staring at random shapes.
My heart practically leaps into my throat when the door adjacent to the waiting room opens.
“Andromeda?” A middle-aged woman with a blonde bob says, appearing in the open doorway.
I know that hairstyle must take a lot of maintenance to upkeep, considering how my mom’s own haircare schedule is. But for whatever reason, I can’t imagine that this woman would complain about how the bleach burns her scalp off in the same way my mom does on the regular.
“Please, call me Andi,” I say, standing from my seat and hefting my purse over my shoulder.
“Andi then, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Nancy, why don’t you come on back with me and we can get to know each other a bit more.”
“Okay,” I nod, following her in. I give the air a subtle sniff, but she must be wearing some de-scenter because I can only catch the faint whiff of something floral, even though I can tell she’s an omega.
Makes sense. Given her job, she probably wouldn’t want her perfume to interrupt a session with a patient.
Her office has a similar feeling to that of the waiting room. Small, cozy, and quiet. When I sit on the couch across from her, I practically sink into the soft cushions.
I’m appreciating the research I did to find an omega therapist who specializes in omegas, because this attention to detail is seriously helping with my nerves.
She’s wearing a blouse in the off-the-shoulder style that’s common with omegas. It showcases the three bond marks she has.
“You’re bonded,” I blurt out as she settles into her own armchair.
“Why yes,” she says, offering me a warm smile, unbothered by my inability to string together a proper sentence. “I have three mates. We’re going on thirty years soon.”
“Oh,” I say, nodding. “That’s... That’s really beautiful.”
It’s honestly surprising. Packs have only really become accepted since unbonding became a bigger thing. Maybe because it seemed like extra commitment, tying yourself to more than one person for the rest of your life.
“So, Andi, tell me what brings you here today,” Nancy says.
Despite the soft, reassuring way she asks, it still makes me stiffen in my seat.
“Um, well, I—I looked up omega therapists, and I found you on the internet and—”
My babbling is interrupted when my phone starts ringing from my purse.
I wince, recognizing the ringtone instantly. Mother dearest is calling.
“Sorry, I have to take this,” I say, bracing myself against the soft cushion behind me.
“Go ahead.”
“Andromeda, what are you doing? Are you getting some work done? That’s not the normal beauty spa we go to,” she says, her shrill voice grating on my nerves.
“Did you check my location, Mom?”
“Of course I did,” she says casually.
I glance up at Nancy, who’s watching this terribly awkward exchange. I can’t read her expression. Probably because she’s spent years practicing her poker face.
Sorry, I mouth silently before glancing away to finish the call.
“No, Mom, I’m not getting work done. I’m just getting a facial.”
Lucky for me, there’s a place that does that in the same building.
What does it say about me that I looked that up before I came here?
“Oh? How fun! Well, I just wanted to check up on you. Make sure to call me later, since Beckham Knight’s team has been so inflexible when it comes to our suggestions, I have some I’d like you to bring up yourself.”
“Yes, Mom, I’ll give you a call later.”
I take the first full breath since the start of the call when she finally hangs up on me.
“Sorry,” I say, wincing as I slip my phone back into the bag.
“No need to apologize, Andi. This is your space.”
“That’s—that’s exactly it,” I say, my brows drawing down. “I want—I want that. But... but my mom... Well, let’s just say I have a lot of feelings about her.”
“Tell me more about that.”
“Well, I’m not sure how big you are into reality TV, but my mom is Gina Sterling, the omega who very publicly unbonded my dad.
She’s sacrificed a lot for me, and she’s been through so much...
” I find myself growing frustrated with the rehearsed words leaving my lips.
“Sorry, there’s more there. We—we have problems, I swear. ”
“I believe you, Andi,” Nancy says. The words catch me off guard. She says it so sincerely I actually believe her. “You don’t have to justify yourself. This is a safe space.”
I give her a jerky nod.
“I—I hate my life. I feel suffocated every day by everyone’s expectations.
” I stare down at my hands. “I don’t—I don’t even really know who I am.
And every time I feel like I have it figured out, it’s like the rest of the world around me falls apart and that little hold on something that I think is mine is ripped away.
To make things worse, the only thing that’s giving me a hint of freedom is fucking fake. ”
I shake my head, letting out a bark of laughter that probably makes me sound a little insane. Good thing I’m seeing a therapist, I guess.
God, I wonder what my mom would say if she knew where I actually was.
She’d probably call me crazy.
And maybe she’d be right.
“None of that makes any sense.”
“You’d be surprised how much of it did,” Nancy says, leaning forward in her own armchair like she’s settling in for the session. “But why don’t you explain it to me?”
I don’t know why I keep on staring at my ceiling like it’s magically going to grow more interesting, but I don’t have the energy to do anything other than just stare.
Therapy is... hard.
I know it’s stupid, but there’s a part of me that really hoped I’d go in and instantly feel better. But better isn’t the adjective I’d use to describe how I’m feeling right now.
Hell, I don’t even know if I could describe how I’m feeling. I’ve done enough talking about my feelings for one day.
My phone buzzes beside my head. I brace myself, peeking at the screen with one eye open in case it’s someone I don’t want to talk to right now.
Beck
How was your therapy session?
I take a shaky breath. What feels like the first in hours.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m clicking on his icon and calling him.
I know I said I’ve done enough talking about my feelings for one day, but I also don’t want to be alone.
“Hey, you doing okay, Andi?” Beck asks. I can’t see his face right now, but based on the way he asked the question, I imagine a little line forming between his brows like he’s concerned.
Even if he’s not, I let myself imagine that it’s real. That he actually gives a shit about me—Andi, not Andromeda, not Gina Sterling’s daughter or Ezra Fletcher’s ex-girlfriend—unlike the rest of the world.
“My head is swimming,” I say, my voice muffled slightly from my face buried in my duvet.
“Ah, yeah, therapy can do that. Do you want to be alone right now?”
“Fuck no,” I grunt.
My apartment is my safe haven. Or at least, it’s supposed to be. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t lonely here.
After growing up in the house I did, silence is nice. But I think I’ve reached a point where it’s not peaceful anymore. It’s its own... thing. And not a good thing. I don’t think I like being alone.
“Why don’t you come over to my apartment? I can whip you up something. I’ve been working on my cooking skills since I presented.”
My thoughts stop in their tracks. Almost like there’s an audible record scratch sound effect.
“You mean your penthouse?” I tease. “My place is an apartment. Yours is... not.”
“Fair enough. That’s not an answer to my question, though.”
“I—” It’s like all my trains of thought resume, but at two-times speed and now they’re crashing into each other all at once. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Isn’t there something in the contract? That says we shouldn’t do unscheduled things like that?”
The devil over my shoulder starts rolling around, throwing a tantrum. There’s a part of me that just knows it’d be really nice to spend more time with Beck. All the time I’ve spent with him so far has been lovely.
But that’s just the problem.
“Fineee.” I can practically hear Beck pouting over the phone. “Then I’ll send Leo.”
“What? No, you don’t have to send Leo. He shouldn’t have to work—”
“It won’t be work. Come on, Andi, you just said you don’t want to be alone.”
I roll over onto my back, letting out a small sigh as I stare up at my ceiling like it’ll give me answers.
But I don’t need anyone to tell me what I really want, deep down.
Not even my ceiling.
“Okay, fine, if he’s okay with it,” I mumble, remembering the way he was on set. It’s hard to forget the fact that he was the one to bring me my robe when I was sprawled out on the floor half-naked.
“Perfect!” Beck says, sounding like a kid in a candy store.
“You don’t have to sound so excited,” I say, rolling my eyes playfully, even though he can’t see me right now.
“But I do,” he says, suddenly growing serious. “You’re not alone anymore, Andi. We’re friends, right?”
His words catch me off guard.
Do I actually have anyone I can consider a true friend?
If you’d asked me a few months ago, I would’ve said Ezra was my friend, but now? No one really comes to mind.
It’s hard to make friends when your mom always throws a fit when you’re out of the house for too long, hanging out with people she doesn’t “approve of.” And her approval was only really given to people of higher social status than us, which limited my opportunities even more.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice going soft. “Friends.”
“And friends don’t let each other spiral alone after a hard therapy session.”
“When did I say I was spiraling?” I huff.
“The first thing you said on this call was that your head was swimming,” Beck points out gently. “But you’re right, that wasn’t a spiral. Friends don’t let friends drown? Well, that’s not quite what you said either. Friends don’t let friends swim when they don’t want to swim?”
“Thank you for checking in on me,” I say, biting my bottom lip to try to suppress the grin on my face. “Maybe don’t write a song about fish, though. Your water metaphors could use some work.”
“Duly noted,” Beck says. I can practically hear the grin through the phone. “Alright then, I’ll go let Leo know the plan.”
“You mean ask him, right? ‘Cause the plan requires him agreeing.”
“Yeah, ask. Of course.”
“I mean it, Beck, I don’t want him coming over if he doesn’t want to.”
“I really don’t think you need to worry about that, Andi. Anyway, talk later!”
“Bye, Beck.”
Before the empty silence of my apartment is able to creep back in, my phone vibrates. This time, I find myself excited as I check who the message is from. Big change there.
Leo
Do you like spicy food?
I let out a soft huff of laughter.
Andi
What is it with you guys and trying to feed me?
His answer is instant. It also has my mouth going dry and something else below my waist going... less dry.
Leo
Taking care of an omega is just what should happen.
Wow.
I toss my phone aside, and roll over, burying my face in the duvet covers again. It takes everything I have not to kick my feet like a stupid girl.
He’s just a friend.
He’s just coming over because I’ve had a hard day. He’ll come over and see that I’m alright, and then I’ll send him on his way.
Andi
I’m a wimp
So, not normally big on spicy food, but I can try
Leo
Perfect, I’ll be at your place in an hour