I reflect on everything Lucas and I discussed. Like it or not, he is a good therapist, and even if I don’t want to admit it, he might have a better insight into what troubles my daughter a month after knowing her than I do after a lifetime spent together.
He was right when he said Tegan’s father is a giant blind spot for me. But not anymore. I purse my lips and make a decision: time to tell Tegan who her father is. But, how?
I mentally scoff when I come to the realization that the best person to ask for advice is none other than Shrink Shrek.
***
Tegan still has another week of early morning detention, so the next day, I beat Shrek to the office and wait for him to show up outside his door.
Lucas steps out of the elevator twenty minutes later, as impeccably dressed as always and just as annoyingly good looking.
“Finally,” I greet him. “I thought I’d have to wait here all morning.”
He scowls at finding me guarding his ogre’s lair. “I’m sorry, did we have an appointment I forgot about?”
Dr. Ogre unlocks his door and I follow him inside the office. “We do now.”
“Why, no, you aren’t getting in the way of an appointment I already have scheduled,” he says sarcastically.
“You never schedule a session before ten a.m.,” I retort.
His ridiculously blue eyes widen. “Have you been secretly keeping tabs on me?”
“I’m just observant.”
Lucas takes his seat behind the desk, showing me the same armchair as last time. “Please make yourself at home.” He crosses his hands on the table. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
I sit and get straight to the point. “I want to tell Tegan about her father.”
All the sarcasm evaporates from Lucas’ features, and he becomes immediately serious but smiley, if that’s even a thing. “Good,” he says. “It’s the right choice. When do you want to tell her?”
“Oh no, not me. You’re going to do it.”
“Me?”
“Tegan is coming to see you this afternoon, right?”
“Yes.”
“Tell her after you’re done with your”—I make a flapping hand gesture—“shrinking.”
“I’m not a psychiatrist,” Mr. I Got My Bachelor and Master at Stanford corrects me. “And why don’t you want to tell her yourself?”
I hate that I have to show my vulnerable side to Lucas, but somehow, deep down, I also feel that I can trust him with my innermost secrets. “When it comes to that man—see? I can’t even bring myself to say his name—I don’t trust my gut reaction. I could get mad, spew evil, change my mind as I talk… I can’t do that to Tegan.”
Lucas stares at me for a long time before saying, “It’s good to know our limits, and there’s no shame in asking for help.” And with a cheeky grin, he adds, “Even if you hate asking me.”
And he’s charmed me into smiling. “So, Doctor, how do you want to proceed?”
“I’ll talk with Tegan this afternoon and then, if you’re okay with it, I’d like to bring you in for a controlled discussion with both of you.”
“Right.” The thought sounds terrifying, but I have no choice. “What should I tell Tegan about how things went down sixteen years ago? Everything? Nothing?”
Lucas leans back in his chair, thinking hard. Eventually, he says, “Let it be her choice how much she wants to know. If she wishes to rebuild a relationship with her father, it could be better if they started with a clean slate. He might be a very different man now.”
Now I’m positively cringing. The thought of Tegan going anywhere near that man makes my stomach tighten with so many knots I want to puke. I imagine them in the same dusty office where I used to meet him for our clandestine hookups—which doesn’t make any sense, because a dean will have been upgraded to a much grander space than a TA. But in my head, it’s how I picture the encounter, and the mental image makes me dizzy on top of being nauseated.
Lucas takes in my reaction, and his features soften in a way I’ve never seen before. It’s impossible to reconcile this side of him with the lunatic who barged into my office the day I signed the lease, yelling about stolen donuts and other nonsense.
“I know this is hard on you,” he says in a soft, low voice that sounds like honey. “But you’re doing the right thing for Tegan. You’re a wonderful mother.”
His words spread over me like a warm blanket, but this conversation is already cutting too deep. So I don’t let on I appreciate his metaphorical outstretched hand, and slap it away with sarcasm instead. “Careful, Doctor,” I say. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”
“Maybe because it was,” he says, a little cross. “Now if you don’t mind.” Lucas stands up abruptly. “I have to prepare for my next session.”
“Sure.”
I follow him to the door.
“Once Tegan arrives for our appointment, I’ll give you a call,” he tells me.
“You don’t have my number.”
Shrek’s nostrils flare. “Then I’ll make the effort of walking six paces to your door and knocking.”
“You rattle too easily,” I tease him.
Lucas advances a step, towering over me. “It happens only with you,” he says, eyes burning into mine.
And a weird, different-kind-of-warm sensation spreads in my belly, which is my cue to flee his office and go hide in mine. As I slam my door shut and lean back against it, I’m definitely not thinking about how blue his eyes are, or how soft his hair looks, or how good it would feel to rake my hand through it and pull his head down to—yep, definitely not thinking about any of that.
***
By the time the hour of Tegan’s appointment arrives, I’m staring at my laptop, furiously biting my nails while trying not to chew them off. They were supposed to meet five minutes ago. How long will it take before Lucas calls me in? How will Tegan react?
By four-thirty, I’m pacing behind my door like a caged animal. When Lucas
