Page 45 of Timelessly Ours
I scoff. “He’s caught me lying on three…maybe four occasions now.”
She cocks her head. “And how easy are you making yourself be…caught?”
“I don’t enjoy lying. It’s not a game for me anymore. It’s not who I am anymore. But—I feel like the real me is…” I shake my head. “No one would want the real me around their child. And this job, this chance…it seems like something I really want, but don’t deserve.”
She nods then looks at me like I know what she’s going to say.
“You think I’m sabotaging myself.”
“Why is that the first thing to come to your mind?”
Ugh, therapists.
“I don’t think I’m making Rory hate me. I think I really want this to work. You’re the first person I’ve told this to.”
She frowns. “You haven’t expressed your interest of making this work to your new boss?”
“No. Our relationship is complicated.”
She sets her notebook down and reaches for her iPad. “How so?”
“I…well, he’s my best friend’s father. My brother’s coach. I’ve known him for years and…well…”
Her eyes drop to my twined fingers, squeezing my knuckles. “This is the coach for the Buffalo Blades we’re talking about?”
I nod.
She types into her iPad and waits for the results, then lifts a brow. “Do you…find him attractive?”
Yep, she Googled him.
How do I answer that? I’m more than attracted to him. My whole body responds in unspeakable ways when he’s near.
“He put me on probation,” I blurt, sidetracking from her question.
She nods once. “What were his terms?”
I scrunch my nose. “That I stop lying and going off script—whatever that means.”
“Are you not following directions? You’ve never cared for a child before,” she reminds me.
“I’m doing what feels right with that little—” I force a smile “ray of sunshine.”
Pamela smirks and reaches for her notebook again. “Given your trigger last night with regard to Rory, I’d like to put you back on your anxiety medication. Only to be taken as needed. Anxiety strikes unexpectedly, and with your new responsibilities as a full-time nanny, I want you prepared.”
I nod.
She looks at me sympathetically. “Do you have someone who can dole them out to you?”
I take a breath. Nick would dole out my meds. But I can’t ask him. Not yet, at least. “I’ll find someone.”
She nods and reaches for her prescription pad. “The person you give it to should—”
“Be aware of the count. I know.”
“I’m glad you stopped by today. Would you be comfortable switching back to weekly?”
I nod out of obligation. I don’t have a choice.
