Page 24 of The Therapist
That’s what watching did for me. Gave me glimpses into others’ ups and downs, made me feel what they felt, but also gave me pride and accomplishment, knowing I was the only one privy to witnessing those secret moments as well.
But then you looked up. The way you cast your eyes down when you saw me—it made my heart stutter. I wanted to see your light, not your remorse.
It only spurred me on. I would do whatever it took to see your glow. To make you glow. For myself, though.
I wanted that light for me.
Directed at me.
You stood up and approached me with a formidable expression blanketing your face. I should have been nervous, but the closer you got, the more at ease and excited I felt. I was the sole focus of your attention, and it felt good.
Before you reached me, Aubry, the event coordinator, appeared in my face—blocking you. Agitation consumed me, but I hid it well—I think.
I wanted to push her aside, out of my way. Out of your way. Because when our eyes locked, it felt like we were the only two people in the world.
It was live wires and lightning. I hope these memories of mine mean something to you. I hope you remember them with the same affinity that I do.
Maybe this is just one long painful babbling heartache for you—but that’s not the intent.
I need you to see that there was beauty in what we were—what we are. That we offered each other a gift in this life.
A groan slips out of me. I clutch the page to my chest and rest my forehead to the cool wood of my desk.
Twelve
Past
The sun is high, warm against my skin, and the grass beneath me is soft as I sink onto the lawn. Tiny, wriggling bodies press against me, tails wagging, noses nuzzling. A puppy clambers into my lap, its oversized paws fumbling as it licks at my chin, and I laugh—truly laugh—for the first time in days.
It feels good to be here. At NEL. Among women I respect, doing something that matters.
For two weeks, I’ve drowned myself in work, hoping it would silence the gnawing guilt in my chest. I shouldn’t have kissed him. I shouldn’t havewantedto. But I did. I did kiss him and I did want it.
Canceling his appointments was the right thing to do. The only thing to do.
But when I lay in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, the memory of his mouth barely brushing mine, of his fingers curled in my collar, won’t leave me.
I press my forehead against a puppy’s soft fur, exhaling slowly.
Enough, Robin.
A shadow moves in my periphery. I look up, smiling—until I see him.
Cooper.
He stands just beyond the volunteers, hands in his pockets, watching me. His sharp blue eyes lock on mine—intense, assessing.
I freeze.
Heat rushes up my neck, and I drop my gaze, schooling my expression before he can read what’s written all over my face. Damn him for being here.
I stand, brushing grass from my thighs, every muscle in my body stiffening. My heart pounds against my ribs as I stride toward him, expression blank, professional.
Before I can reach him, a figure steps into his path.
Aubry.
Her stance is rigid, arms crossed over her chest, chin tipped up in challenge. Her dark eyes narrow, and her body shifts, blocking me from view.
