Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 53749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Bolting upright in bed, I look over at the clock on my nightstand. 2:21 a.m. I was having another nightmare. I’m sweating and breathing hard, my heart still pounding from the anger and frustration I experienced during the dream.
What the fuck is up with me? Once again, I can only think of taking this dream straight to Grayson and asking for her thoughts.
I won’t, though. I’m not sharing something so personal with her only to get a frosty, clinical response. This time, I’m on my own.
11
Graysen
It’s been about twenty minutes, and I already know Jake will never find someone who compares to the person he’s deeply in love with—himself.
I agreed to meet him for coffee, and since the moment he went in for a full body hug when I arrived at the coffee shop, I’ve felt waves of disingenuousness coming off him.
“I’ll have to hit the cardio again tonight after having all this cream in my coffee,” he says, grinning at me from over the rim of his mug. “But you’re worth it.”
Somehow, I manage not to roll my eyes. The only thing I suspect Jake is being completely straightforward about is his love of the gym. He already told me at length how sore his quads are from his workout yesterday.
“What else do you like to have as a treat?” I ask him. “I make a great cheesecake.”
He wrinkles his face in disgust. “I don’t eat any refined sugar. I get my macros from plant-based foods and lean proteins.”
My attention wanders to a memory of seeing Alexei in the Beckett dining room last week. It was evening, and I was eating and reading a book before leaving work for the night. When I looked up, I saw him sitting several tables over, laughing with Joe while eating powdered sugar doughnuts. There was a ring of white powdered sugar lining his lips. He grinned and waved at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
Clearing my throat, I force myself to focus on Jake. “Oh, okay.”
He sips his coffee, checks out a passing waitress and then turns back to me.
“I always like to meet women over coffee, you know, because I’m not blowing a hundred bucks on dinner with a woman I’ve never even met. But maybe we could do lunch sometime? There’s a great vegan place by my office.”
I can’t believe how badly I misjudged this guy. He hasn’t asked me anything about myself the whole time we’ve been here. Yeah, I need to get my mind off Alexei, but not like this.
“Look, it was really nice to meet you,” I say, reaching into my purse and grabbing a five from my wallet, “but I don’t think it’s gonna work out. Good luck to you, though.”
I leave the money for my coffee on the table and walk out of the coffee shop, not looking back.
There’s no satisfaction in being right about Jake. I’ve been telling Amelia since I set up the coffee date that he’d probably be awful. In the back of my mind, though, I know that was just a defense mechanism. I was expecting the worst so I wouldn’t be disappointed.
And yet, I am. I had a flicker of hope that there would be enough of a spark between us to get my mind off Alexei. The attraction I feel toward my patient is keeping me up at night, especially now that I’ve put up a wall between us.
It’s so hard for me to be detached and strictly professional with him. For one, I don’t think it even is professional for me to be cold and seemingly unfeeling towards a patient. It’s my job to make a personal connection with everyone I treat, to let them know there’s no shame in where they are in life or how they got there.
The hurt on Alexei’s face when he’s in sessions now is like an arrow to my heart. I’m responsible for that. We were on the verge of real progress, too. His anger over his brother was actually a good thing. It meant he was expressing his feelings—no longer numbing himself with alcohol to avoid them.
I never got a chance to tell him that, though. Gia’s threat changed everything. I’m less concerned about being outed to my bosses by her and more ashamed that she could see the way I feel about him. I felt like an imposter that day when she called me out. Since then, I’ve questioned everything I’ve said to Alexei.
What a mess I’ve made. Now Alexei thinks I’m angry at him, and that’s the furthest thing from the truth. The only one who has anything to apologize for is me.
Instead of taking an Uber to the grocery store, I walk, welcoming the chance to get lost in the throng of Chicagoans out and about on this chilly winter Saturday afternoon. I counsel my patients not to get stuck in a rut of negative self-doubt, but I can’t seem to follow that advice myself.