snap. “Sorry. I just really hate stupid people who make stupid , emotional decisions. That’s the reason I’m not friends with them anymore.”
“It’s understandable. You watched your friends make mistake after mistake, which of course, is their prerogative. But it’s scary seeing people you care about have broken hearts or act dangerously. I can see how it would make you want to protect yourself in a way they hadn’t.”
I nod, feeling relief that someone understands what I felt during that time. I wasn’t judging them. I just worried about them. Several fat tears roll down my cheeks, a physical reminder of the anxiety that has built up inside me. I brush them away.
Dr. Markson checks her watch and says, “Our time is up for today. I’ll see you in two weeks unless you have an emergency.”
I leave the office after m aking my follow-up appointment. I’ve just pressed the down button when I hear someone call, “Hold up!”
I stop the elevator and Graham pops his head in the open door. “Audrey!” he says. He’s out of breath from sprinting down the hall. He frowns when he sees my face and touches my arm. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” I say, through a stuffed nose and watery eyes. “Just therapy, you know ?”
He nods and squeezes my arm before releasing it. We enter the elevator and Graham presses the down button. A tense silence hovers between us, only broken up by my sniffing. The elevator dings and just before the door opens, he says, “Wait.”
“Yeah?”
Graham lifts the hem of his shirt and wipes away the tears on my cheeks. He smiles and says, “That’s better.”
The doors open to the lobby. He lets me exit first.
“Thank you, ” I say.
“Of course.”
We stand awkwardly for a moment. Are things really different outside the office? Outside our protective bubble? What will it be like when we’ve seen each other naked? “Have a good weekend, Audrey,” he eventually says. “I’ll see you Monday.”
“Yes, Monday.”
We both walk off in opposite directions, him to whatever life he has outside all of this, and me, into the sun with dry cheeks.
Chapter 11
(Graham)
Sil ver, with a flash of red, sails through the air. It lands with a solid thud on the corkboard. “Damn.” I shake my head.
Dave gives me a smug grin. “At least , you hit the inner ring.”
“Not enough to win.”
He sets his stance and weighs his darts. He eyes the target and throws. No thud, no anything. Just perfect. “Bastard.”
“I’ll take a Blue Mo on,” he says, already claiming his winnings.
“You got it.”
The bar’s crowded, even for a Thursday night. I lean on the edge, keeping an eye on the flat screen mounted to the wall. Baseball season started a week ago. The Braves have two men on base. “Knock it out,” I say to no one in particular, thinking the batter can get at least one home. I feel a soft hand on my arm. I look down into a pair of familiar bright blue eyes.
“Hey , babe,” Janelle says, the glint unmistakable in her eyes. “How are you?”
I glance around the room. Janelle’s short; but her blonde hair, tight skirt, and giant tits make her pretty noticeable. Sure enough, two guys at the bar are checking her out. Janelle is one of my clients, was one of my clients. Her husband is an anthropologist studying in Egypt for six months; and everyone that knows them, marvel at how they’re a perfect example of the nerdy guy with a hot woman. It all works until the nerd gets too focused on finding ancient artifacts, leaving his wife, desperate and lonely. That’s where I come in. “I’m fine. You?”
“I’m doing okay,” she says, b ut I see the pout forming. “It’s been a long time. I miss seeing you.”
“School ’s taking up a lot of time lately.”
“Just school?” She moves closer, rubbing her leg against mine.
“Graduate program, remember? I told you about it. It’s a bitch.”
She bites her bottom lip and toys with the button
“It’s understandable. You watched your friends make mistake after mistake, which of course, is their prerogative. But it’s scary seeing people you care about have broken hearts or act dangerously. I can see how it would make you want to protect yourself in a way they hadn’t.”
I nod, feeling relief that someone understands what I felt during that time. I wasn’t judging them. I just worried about them. Several fat tears roll down my cheeks, a physical reminder of the anxiety that has built up inside me. I brush them away.
Dr. Markson checks her watch and says, “Our time is up for today. I’ll see you in two weeks unless you have an emergency.”
I leave the office after m aking my follow-up appointment. I’ve just pressed the down button when I hear someone call, “Hold up!”
I stop the elevator and Graham pops his head in the open door. “Audrey!” he says. He’s out of breath from sprinting down the hall. He frowns when he sees my face and touches my arm. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” I say, through a stuffed nose and watery eyes. “Just therapy, you know ?”
He nods and squeezes my arm before releasing it. We enter the elevator and Graham presses the down button. A tense silence hovers between us, only broken up by my sniffing. The elevator dings and just before the door opens, he says, “Wait.”
“Yeah?”
Graham lifts the hem of his shirt and wipes away the tears on my cheeks. He smiles and says, “That’s better.”
The doors open to the lobby. He lets me exit first.
“Thank you, ” I say.
“Of course.”
We stand awkwardly for a moment. Are things really different outside the office? Outside our protective bubble? What will it be like when we’ve seen each other naked? “Have a good weekend, Audrey,” he eventually says. “I’ll see you Monday.”
“Yes, Monday.”
We both walk off in opposite directions, him to whatever life he has outside all of this, and me, into the sun with dry cheeks.
Chapter 11
(Graham)
Sil ver, with a flash of red, sails through the air. It lands with a solid thud on the corkboard. “Damn.” I shake my head.
Dave gives me a smug grin. “At least , you hit the inner ring.”
“Not enough to win.”
He sets his stance and weighs his darts. He eyes the target and throws. No thud, no anything. Just perfect. “Bastard.”
“I’ll take a Blue Mo on,” he says, already claiming his winnings.
“You got it.”
The bar’s crowded, even for a Thursday night. I lean on the edge, keeping an eye on the flat screen mounted to the wall. Baseball season started a week ago. The Braves have two men on base. “Knock it out,” I say to no one in particular, thinking the batter can get at least one home. I feel a soft hand on my arm. I look down into a pair of familiar bright blue eyes.
“Hey , babe,” Janelle says, the glint unmistakable in her eyes. “How are you?”
I glance around the room. Janelle’s short; but her blonde hair, tight skirt, and giant tits make her pretty noticeable. Sure enough, two guys at the bar are checking her out. Janelle is one of my clients, was one of my clients. Her husband is an anthropologist studying in Egypt for six months; and everyone that knows them, marvel at how they’re a perfect example of the nerdy guy with a hot woman. It all works until the nerd gets too focused on finding ancient artifacts, leaving his wife, desperate and lonely. That’s where I come in. “I’m fine. You?”
“I’m doing okay,” she says, b ut I see the pout forming. “It’s been a long time. I miss seeing you.”
“School ’s taking up a lot of time lately.”
“Just school?” She moves closer, rubbing her leg against mine.
“Graduate program, remember? I told you about it. It’s a bitch.”
She bites her bottom lip and toys with the button
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