Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“Crap,” I grumble to myself, pulling my phone out of my purse. I was in a rush to get here and didn’t take a picture of the numbered sign, telling myself I’d remember. Well, I don’t, and I have no service so my “parked car” ding isn’t dinging. I walk down another aisle of cars, warm late spring sun shining down on me as I hit the panic button for my Jeep over and over.
“Don’t panic,” I tell myself, and all calming techniques go out the window. I’m great at getting other people to stay calm and logical, but not the best when it comes to myself. I go down another aisle, convinced now that someone stole my car or maybe I’m in the totally wrong lot—O’Hare airport does have quite a few—when I finally hear beeping.
And then I remember I parked in row M6, which I told myself I’d remember because my name starts with the letter M and my birthday is March 6th. Hah.
Shaking my head at myself, I open the back of my Jeep, toss my suitcase inside, and then go around, starting it up. I’ve flown out of O'Hare plenty of times and know my way around Chicago and its surrounding suburbs pretty well. Still, I need to put the barn’s address in my GPS because I’m totally the girl that will miss an exit I’ve taken fifteen times in the last month.
Half an hour into my drive, I take a client call. While I prefer meeting my clients face to face, I have a handful that have their sessions either over Zoom or via a phone call.
“Hey, Emily,” I start. “How are you?”
“Well, I was okay,” she replies, voice on the edge of breaking. “Until Aaron blew up at me again last night. I just…I don’t know how to cope with this, so I’m hoping you can give me some new coping skills because I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around him.”
Aaron came in and tried to do a session with Emily about two months ago, when she first became my client. It was like a PTSD flashback to my relationship with Cory. Aaron accused her of faking her anxiety for attention and that she “was good at it because she took a few psych classes in college”.
The guy is a grade-A asshole and he has her stuck in a cycle of emotional abuse.
“Have you thought about what life would be like without him?” I question bluntly.
“You mean like…break up with him?”
“Yes. Have you thought about what it would be like not to have to deal with someone who has outbursts? Last week, he threw away two very expensive pairs of your shoes and dropped off a bag of your clothes at Goodwill without your permission just because you didn’t immediately fold your laundry after taking it out of the dryer.”
“Well, it must have been annoying to deal with my clean clothes on the bed.”
“Okay, let’s say it was. He essentially destroyed your property. A sweater your grandmother made you was in there,” I say, not to bring it up and make her sad all over again, but to hope that she’ll finally see Aaron for what he is. “You’re a bright girl with a lot of friends and a promising future as a creative writing professor. You don’t need anyone, especially someone who treats you like that.”
“I mean…I would like…it would be nice…I want a romance like I read about.”
“Exactly. And that’s what you deserve. I think you should break up with him.”
A few seconds of silence fill the air. “Aren’t you supposed to like, just help me get through my current emotions?”
“Some therapists would do that, but not me. I don’t want to sit back and watch you waste your life, Em. He’s not going to change and you are going to let your best years go to waste waiting for him.”
“Y-you’re right.”
“I know I am. Now I just need to get you to take action.”
“Okay, if that’s how you look after a six hour flight and then nearly two hours of traffic, I give up.” Zara narrows her eyes before laughing, dropping her keys, riding gloves, water bottle, and phone on the table.
“Those heatless curlers work,” I reply, dramatically tossing my hair back. “Though it’s going to get all smashed under my helmet.”
“They do,” Kathryn agrees. “I’ve been wearing them on flights even before I got that brand deal.”
“Brand deals…trips to Ireland…you both live such exciting lives.” Elsie’s blue eyes light up and she smiles. “I’m kinda jealous but I’m just so happy you get to do what you love.”
“Well, I haven’t told my client that her husband wasn’t on a work trip,” I say with a grimace, leaning over to zip up my tall boots. I came straight from the airport to the barn, where my big white thoroughbred, Thor, lives.