Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Jesus, I’m hard.
Not good. Not good at all. There’s no way I can fool myself that this erection has anything to do with my actual girlfriend, who has sent me two texts hinting that she’d like to spend the night. Nope. This is all Yasmen, dammit. I subtly shift in my pants, hoping to rush down the steps and to the car before she notices.
“Hey.” She grabs my arm when I move to walk past her on the porch. “Can we talk?”
With a quick glance at her hand on my arm, I nod tersely and sit in the swing. Maybe if I stay seated and the porch light is off, she won’t notice the pole stand in my pants.
The motion-sensor light turns on.
Great.
I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. She comes to sit by me on the swing, stroking Otis’s head. He leans into her palm, eyes rolling in canine bliss.
“That went better than expected.” She pulls one leg under the other. “What’d you think?”
“Yeah. It was pretty good. He seems okay with it.”
“I think…I’m sure you offering to go to therapy with him helped a lot.” She angles a sideways glance at me. “Did you mean it?”
I bend my knees a few times to rock the swing a little. “Damn, Yas. You think I’d say something like that and not follow through?”
“No, of course not. You were just always so adamant about not seeing a therapist when we…when I…well, before, so I was surprised you offered.”
“Am I excited about it? No. Do I think it’ll do anything for me? Hell, no, but if it might help Kassim adjust, I’ll go.”
“I see.” She blinks, her pretty lips shaping into a wry curve. “So therapy might help children or weak-minded people like me, but couldn’t possibly be of any benefit to someone as strong as you.”
“You know that’s not what I’m saying. Don’t twist my words.”
“I don’t have to.” She stands abruptly, the coolness in her eyes not enough to disguise the hurt. “Do you want recommendations? If so, I can get referrals from Dr. Abrams. Or are you just going through the motions to satisfy Kassim?”
Both.
I know saying it aloud would only ratchet up the tension coiling between us, so I blank my expression before I answer.
“That’d be great.”
“I’ll let Ms. Halstead know we’re moving forward,” she says, turning to grab the knob of the front door.
“Yas, hey.” I stand, and this time, I’m the one who takes her arm. “I really didn’t mean to imply I’m too good for therapy or that you’re weak or—”
“You didn’t have to imply anything, Si.” She tugs, freeing her elbow from my grip and looking down. “You obviously see our son’s emotional well-being as something worth fighting for, worth going to therapy for. I think it’s awesome.”
Except it sounds like she may as well have said “I think you’re an asshole.”
“So we’re good?” I ask, even though the tightness in the air, the tightness of her expression, tells me we’re not.
She holds my stare over her shoulder, one hand on the door, and I’m not sure if it’s disgust or disappointment that darkens her eyes, but it makes me feel slimy.
“Yeah.” She opens the door. “We’re good.”
Chapter Eleven
Yasmen
You sure you’re okay taking Deja, Hen?” I remove bottles of Gatorade from the plastic rings and load them into a cooler packed with ice. “We drove all over the city yesterday, and couldn’t find this hair she wants anywhere.”
“Oh, I already know this place off Candler Road has it.” Seated at my kitchen counter, Hendrix sips her coffee. “Several of my clients get their hair there on the low. When you see it on TV, you’d never know it comes from a shop in the back of a grocery store.”
I pause, a bottle in each hand, to stare at her. “The shop is in a grocery store?”
“One of them one-stops you only find in the cut. Get your milk and eggs. Get your nails did. Get your taxes done. Hock a watch and grab four, five packs of hair before you go.”
She clasps the long ponytail hanging over her shoulder, lifting it and letting it fall. “That’s where I got this silky silky.”
“Well, thank you. I can’t miss Kassim’s soccer match, and Josiah is speaking at this entrepreneurs conference so he couldn’t step in.” I hold up a bottle of Glacier Freeze and a pack of Go-Gurts. “Forgot I’m snack mom today, so I’m scrambling to get it all together.”
I pull a bottle of orange juice from the fridge for Kassim.
“Anyway,” I continue, “Kassim’s first session with this child psychologist is after the game. Josiah and I did an initial meeting with him and Kassim last week, just to kind of info-gather and for us to meet him, but today will be their first session one-on-one. It was the only slot Dr. Cabbot had available so I don’t have time to drive all over, looking for this hair. You’re really coming through for me.”