Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“They wouldn’t ask me that,” I said quickly, knowing they would be putting me in a position I didn’t want to be in. “They know I’m not a kid person.”
She turned her gaze back and stared at me. It was the first time she’d looked at me like that, like she was genuinely disappointed in my responses, when she’d never been that way before, regardless of what I said.
I didn’t understand why the energy in the room was so different. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She slid her fork into her food and took another bite.
“You’ve never judged me for my lifestyle, so why are you judging me now?”
“I’m not judging you, Derek. I’m sorry if I made you think that.”
“Because not all people want kids. That’s not weird, especially for someone like me.”
“You’re absolutely right,” she said. “Not weird at all.”
“Then explain your reaction.” Now I was so comfortable with her that I could just ask her what I wanted; the words flew out of my mouth.
She sighed before she put down her fork. “You just caught me by surprise when you said you hated them because you would be a great father.” She still wouldn’t look at me. “Let’s just move on, Derek. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
After a few days passed, the bad energy from that conversation disappeared.
It was like it never happened.
She worked on my corporate office, came with me to my lectures, and made sure the guys and I were fed at lunchtime. At the end of the day, we pulled up to my building. I usually got out, and Ronnie took her home afterward.
But this time, she got out with me.
Did we have a writing session I’d forgotten about? I didn’t ask her about it, and we rode the elevator to my floor then entered my penthouse. Sometimes it surprised me how clean the place was, the smell catching me off guard because my nose still remembered the way it used to smell.
I set my satchel on the dining table before I grabbed a beer from the fridge.
“Derek?”
I came back out and set down my beer. When she didn’t take a seat or put her purse down, I knew something was different. She wasn’t here to help me write. She was here for a different reason.
I stilled at the serious look on her face, my heart beating a little harder, a little faster. Dread was in my veins, and I was actually afraid of what she might say. My intuition told me bad news was about to be delivered.
I could read the unease in her gaze, which worried me because she was always so confident. “Tell me you’re okay…” My thoughts immediately jumped to something serious, like she was sick or something was wrong. A while ago, she’d been weird around me, and she’d said she had personal issues in her life. That anxiety made me realize how much I really cared about her, not because her absence would make my life difficult…but her pain was my pain.
Her eyes softened. “It’s nothing like that, Derek. I didn’t mean to make you think that.” She came closer to me and pulled out her wallet. She pulled a card out of one of the sleeves. “I didn’t want to discuss this at work since we’re always around other people, so I thought now would be a better time.” She shouldered her purse again and extended the card.
I took it, seeing the details on the front. I lifted my gaze and looked at her.
“Please don’t get upset.”
I swallowed all the emotions that exploded inside me, kept them locked behind the steel door I erected in my mind. My initial reaction was to panic, to get furious, but I remembered this woman had only ever tried to help me.
“I’ve done a lot of research into the right person who can help you. He’s one of the best. He deals with people who suffer from PTSD, which is what I think you’re experiencing. It’s too traumatic for you to address because you’re suffocated by it—”
“I’ve already tried this.” My voice was clipped and fiery, doing my best to keep my cold retorts behind my tongue. “It doesn’t work—”
“Maybe that wasn’t the right person for you.”
I closed my eyes and crumpled the card in my closed fist, doing my best to keep my anger sheathed.
She was quiet.
I took a few seconds before I could meet her look again. “No.” I opened my hand again and let the card fall to the floor.
She had no reaction.
“You didn’t tell Cleo about this, right?”
“No. I would never share such intimate details with anyone.”
I felt the sigh of relief escape, not wanting my mother to know about the demons that still haunted me. “I don’t want to talk to anyone. Don’t bring this up again.” I started to turn away.