Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
I hear the door creak open in the outer office, and my bouncing leg goes still. Gabriel’s voice booms as he says something to Sarah, and all the anxiety I’ve been feeling for a week instantly shifts to something different—exhilaration. The two emotions aren’t that different. Both cause the blood to swish loudly in my ears. My palms sweat, and I’m certain I’ll jump out of my skin with any sudden noise. But I also feel alive. So. Damn. Alive. I imagine it’s a lot like jumping out of an airplane—the rush of adrenaline as you lift your arms into the air and let the wind and gravity take you. Only I’m not sure if my parachute works.
I might plunge to the ground at a hundred and twenty miles per hour and splatter like a bug.
Yet as I’m sitting on the edge of the plane, dangling my feet, waiting to lean my weight forward and fall out—I can’t wait for it to happen.
Knock. Knock.
Sarah opens the door to my office. “Your twelve o’clock is here. I’m going to run out and grab a coffee from the deli down the block. Do you want something?”
“No, thank you.” Who can think about food when you’re waiting to jump out of an airplane?
She steps in and closes the door behind her. Smiling, she wiggles her eyebrows and whispers, “Your new patient is really sexy. He’s not the type I’d normally be attracted to, but there’s just something about him.”
Yes, there certainly is.
I clear my throat. “Would you send him in on your way out, please?”
“Sure.”
A few seconds later, Gabriel knocks twice and pokes his head in with a smile. “Rumor has it you’re ready for me?”
My heart has been pounding nonstop over the last week, ever since he walked into my office the first time. But right now it feels like it’s bouncing against my rib cage. I’m terrified.
I should cancel right now. Tell him I’m sick. In fact, I might not even need to say the words, because at the moment I feel pretty queasy.
But I rein it in. Because Gabriel needs me.
And a part of me needs him. Needs to make him better.
So I put on my finest practiced smile and hold out my hand, motioning to the seating area.
“I am ready for you. Please, have a seat, Mr. Wright.”
He smiles again. Actually, it’s more of a half smile. One that’s lopsided and cocky. And it stirs something in me. Something feminine that hasn’t been awake in a long time. Something outrageously inappropriate.
“I thought we were past that.” He tilts his head. “It’s Gabriel, not Mr. Wright, remember?”
Is he flirting? Or is it in my head? I’m not sure, but there’s no time to contemplate that now. I nod. “Of course, Gabriel. Sorry. Let me just grab my notepad.”
This time I’m careful to pull out a new notebook, not the stalker ledger I inadvertently grabbed last week. I take the seat across from him and cross my legs, smooth out the skirt I’m wearing today.
Gabriel’s eyes drop, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. Then his gaze meets mine head-on.
“So… did you miss me?”
He’s teasing, of course. But he has no idea.
“How was your week?” I ask.
He takes a deep breath in and lets it out. “Not bad. I had papers to grade, so it kept me busy. By the way, when did the word anyway become anyways, with an s? Every one of my students says, ‘So anyways…’ ” He emphasizes the last letter.
I smile. It’s genuine, and it helps me relax a bit. Bad grammar is a pet peeve of mine, too. “I think it was around the time they started beginning sentences with literally. Literally, I have no idea.”
He laughs. It’s hearty. Unrestrained. And maybe a little sexy.
“That’s right up there in my book with slay. Certain words sound like nails on a chalkboard to me. When I tell a student they got an A, and they respond ‘Slay,’ I want to drop the grade to a D.”
I relax a little more. I could sit here all day and be amused by this man’s wit. But we’re not two friends having coffee. He’s paying me for therapy. So I dig in.
“How did you sleep this week?”
“Not great.”
I nod. “When we spoke last time, you said you have a lot of pent-up guilt surrounding your loss. Can we talk about that a little bit? Is the guilt because you were supposed to be with your wife and daughter that day?”
Gabriel’s face falls. He looks down into his lap for a long time before speaking again. “My wife and I were having marital problems.”
Oh. Wow. I hadn’t been expecting that. “I see.”
“We fought all the time.” He frowns. “Including the night she died. That’s why I wasn’t with her that evening, and why she was out walking around with our daughter so late at night. The last thing I said to her before she stormed out was ‘Go to hell.’ ”