Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 40157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
I swipe open my phone and check out her images. God, she’s gorgeous. “What am I going to do about you?” I whisper, staring at her sweet smile.
By the end of the workday, Inga has scheduled me a six-thirty session with Dr. Russell Eames. Luckily it’s only a mile from the office, so my driver makes it there with good timing. After passing the security check, I’m led to the bank of elevators and told to go up to the fifth floor. My palms are sweaty, and my heart’s racing so much that I’m tempted to turn back around and say fuck it. Then, Amelia’s face comes into my mind. I need to be a better man for her, even if she wants nothing to do with me.
I enter the main lobby where a woman sits at her desk. “Hello, I’m here to see Dr. Eames.”
“Yes, you must be Mr. Edwards.” I nod. “Please have a seat. He’s finishing with his last patient, and I need you to go over these. Your assistant emailed them over, but we need for you to verify the information is correct and that you understand your rights as a patient.”
“Thank you.” I take them from her, chanting Amelia’s name in my head to keep myself seated and not bolt out the door. I make it through the forms when a woman comes out followed by the doctor. “We’re still on for next week. Have a good night, Ellen.”
“Thank you, Dr. Eames.” She waves at the receptionist. The man doesn’t address me until the woman has exited the office.
“Hello, you must be Roman Edwards.” I nod, and we shake hands. “Please come in.”
“What about these?”
“Oh, I’ll take those,” the receptionist says. I hand them to her and then step into his office where he closes and locks the door.
"Roman, please have a seat."
I nod and take a seat opposite from his chair and say, "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."
"I'm glad to fit you in. Would you care for something to drink?”
“Some water would be great.” He hands me a bottle of water from his cooler and then takes a seat in his chair. “Your assistant said it was urgent. What brings you to see a therapist for the first time?”
"Yes. I have feelings for someone." I’m not sure how these things work. The internet isn’t a lot of help in this area because so much stuff is confidential and every doctor has a different method.
"And...do you care to elaborate?"
"The thing is, I normally don't have feelings for anyone.” I pause for a moment, thinking about my business getting out into the world for someone to use against me. “Everything said here is confidential, correct?"
"Of course. Unless you intend to cause someone bodily harm. It was all in the papers. My assistant will make copies to take with you.”
"Harming? There is one little fuck that if he doesn't stay away from her...I digress. See...I'm a virgin." I don’t think I’ve ever told another soul that before. It’s not something easy to admit, but from the look on his face, he doesn’t seem too surprised.
"Surprising given your age, appearance, and status, but frankly not uncommon. I'm guessing there's an underlying reason for it."
"My mother, or as I prefer to call her, Anna.”
Now it’s his turn to nod. "Well, go ahead and start talking because I have a feeling we’ll need more than a few sessions. I want you to tell me about Anna."
"She's evil, cruel, and a crazy bitch who should be in prison,” I bite out. Again, something I don’t share with others. I avoid personal conversations at all costs.
"Was she always this way, or did she become this woman you detest?"
"She might have always been this way, but it wasn't until I was thirteen that I felt her venom, or maybe I no longer had my shield."
He nods, waiting for me to continue.
I close my eyes and think back on that terribly painful memory. The day itself is semi-distorted because I’d been on some painkillers, but the effects and the words that she uttered were crystal clear. "She took me away from the only man I knew as my dad. She packed us up while he was on a fishing trip. I was supposed to go with him, but I broke my arm falling off my bike. It was our annual trip with a couple of my dad's friends. I was devastated, of course, but by the time he got home, we were long gone. She told me that he had this crazy notion in his head that I wasn't his son and wanted nothing to do with me. From that day, I didn't see him again until I was twenty-three and set in my ways."
"I suppose he didn't say those things."