It feels so right.
“Look,” I say while caressing her knuckles, “you might be the solution to a lot of things. If he can hide you from files, if you don’t show up when we look into him, if we can prove there is something fishy, maybe I can find a trail leading me to prove that he’s full of shit. But maybe it’s nothing. I always start any investigation on neutral ground. Only the facts can influence me. Okay?” She nods, her brows furrowed. “Now, want to explain the sudden therapy?”
She scoffs and removes her hand from under mine. I feel the loss in my heart right away — fucking hell.
“I lost my shit while behind the wheel yesterday and one thing led to another. I promised Quinn to go meet the doctor, he set me up with an emergency appointment.” She shrugs, but I can feel there is more than she wants to share.
“Want to talk about it? I’m a great listener.” I offer her my best smile, but she doesn’t take the bait.“ Look, you have your reasons for what happened yesterday, and I can almost understand it has more to do with you and your grief than with me. So let’s move on, and if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”
“Thank you,” she says with a smile. My fucking heart melts and I know I’m a goner more than I want to admit when the next words pop out of my mouth. “By the way,” I tell her while standing up and walking back to where I was sitting before, “I told Mark about Elaine last night.”
I need her to know I’m working on my shit, that yesterday got to me. Maybe I didn’t lose my shit to the point my friends sent me to therapy, but it had shaken me too. I felt guilty she left, I felt guilty for not feeling guilty for fucking her, I felt guilty I didn’t try to call her and check on her and now I feel guilty knowing us having sex drove her to lose her shit.
But telling Mark helped me and maybe we both needed to come together to take the next step.
This morning, for the first time since I arrived, I didn’t have to count until one hundred before getting up. I just got up ready to fight the day.
And for a good ten minutes, I didn’t think about Elaine as soon as I woke up.
I thought about Tessa, about how I wanted to see her and know how she was. I thought of us dating—something I haven’t done in a while.
It’s easy to fuck a one-night stand or get married on a whim, but dating, knowing someone, opening up and telling the stories that made you who you are, and being vulnerable in front of someone else isn’t something I’ve done in a long time. And maybe I could give it a try.
“Good. I’ve learned this morning that it’s important to share how they died to be able to heal. I need to tell the story every day for the next week. Maybe you should do the same?” I stop in my tracks toward the door.
“Coffee?” I ask, hopefully. “A way for me to apologize for whatever happened yesterday, and help you with your therapy.” Smooth Oliver. Seems like asking a woman out isn’t like riding a bike. You can lose your swoon.
“Okay,” she simply answers with a small lift of her lips. I fall into her blue eyes and see everything I feel. The fear, the hang-up, and behind everything else, a sparkle of hope I believe I put there.
“Show me the way, Tessa.” I open the door for her to go first. Shyly, she walks in front of me. I think I preferred her strong-headed and ready to pounce on me. On an impulse, I take her hand and squeeze her fingers. She turns away and looks at me once more. “I’m sorry if anything I did yesterday made you lose your shit, Blue-hair. Really sorry.”
“I know Green-eyes, I know.” And just like that, she lets my hand go and walks toward the stairs. A good decision, knowing what happens when we ride elevators together.
Chapter Seventeen
TESSA
I’m not sure the coffee date with Oliver would be Dr. Saman approved. Shouldn’t I focus on being better before sipping hot beverages with an even hotter guy? Shouldn’t I have told her about the mind-blowing sex and the remorse that followed before seeing the said guy again? I look at him, really look at him from the table he told me to wait at, while he’s talking with the barista and ordering our drinks. He’s naturally gorgeous, but something doesn’t add up in his behavior in the last twenty-four hours. Why would he want to spend more time with me after shutting down after we had sex? I know the grief, and the guilt still eats at me as much as it devours him daily, but I thought he would have more empathy toward me knowing he broke the seal of a very dry spell since the love of my life died.
But he ran away, and I fell apart.
He hid in a bathroom, and I let myself drive me to the brink of insanity.
He catches me checking him out and sends me a devilish wink.
It shakes me to the bone.
Waves of lava spread in my veins, and a swarm of butterflies takes over my stomach. I inanely smile like a teenager looking at her crush. Fuck me now; I want to shout for him to take me while my brain spray-paints a massive ‘Fuck My Life’ on my soul. I’m fucked, and I know it. So fucked, I didn’t realize he came back.
A whiff of his scent meets my nostrils, and I get wet.
If I could, I would facepalm emoji myself.
“So
