Shane doesn’t have that super professional air he’s had the other times I’ve seen him. He seems troubled, and I’m uneasy in response. I sit down without him asking me, and he hasn’t said a word as I rub my neck self-consciously. His blue eyes trail over every inch of me, and there’s something in them that I can’t place. His inspection doesn’t feel sexual, making me even more afraid of what he may see.
“Your neck is looking better,” he finally says, with a small smile, and a little tension breaks.
I breathe deeply, my lungs expanding properly now that I know he’s not upset with me. I wave a dismissive hand toward him.
“Yeah, it’s not that bad. I bruise easily, but they’ll fade in no time.”
His eyes narrow, and he looks so damn displeased with me I want to snatch the words out of the air and take them back. His finger thumps against the desk.
“You caught me off guard. I assumed you would wear another scarf today, a turtleneck or something. You didn’t even put makeup on those bruises, did you?”
“No,” I gulp, my fingers moving to my throat as the heat of his gaze trails over the marks. I’m shocked when sparks zip through my veins, like the thought of him looking at my bruises turns me on. It can’t. I’m ashamed of them.
“You impressed me, Seraphina.”
His deep blue gaze meets mine, those frothy white caps giving them impossible depth. Pride swells inside me so fast and intense I could burst. But before I’m too overcome with joy, I hear the “but” in his tone.
The idea of his disapproval makes me ache before I’ve even received it.
His lips purse as he scrutinizes me. “I thought a lot about how you might act during our meeting today. I’ve been thinking about you non-stop since I last saw you.”
“You’ve been thinking about me!?” I squeak like my crush said he likes me.
“I’ve been weighing the pros and cons of my professional obligations and the personal ones I feel toward you.”
His words let all the air out of my expanding chest, and I again feel that I’m losing my mind.
“And what conclusion did you come to?”
“I expected you to do what you’re doing right now. I thought you’d sit in front of me, make excuses for him, tell me how he didn’t mean to hurt you. But instead, you came in here with your head held high. Why backpedal now?”
I struggle.
I’m not afraid of what Shane might say to me, and it’s not because he’s my doctor.
“I’m not backpedaling. I’m trying to diffuse the situation to avoid conflict.”
His eyebrow pops up. “And why do you want to avoid conflict with me?”
There’s a possessive challenge in his voice, and I swallow hard. I play with the ends of my hair, thinking about simply not voicing my thoughts, but I know Shane won’t allow my silence.
“Because you won’t like what I have to say.”
“And what do you have to say?”
“I’m small, female, and know what it’s like to live in a man’s world. What Tim did is far from the worst done to me, and the truth is, I don’t feel as strongly about it as you would like me to.”
“Oh no?” his voice is level, but there’s something feral in his gaze.
“No,” I assure him.
I sigh as I try to gather my thoughts.
“Tim is suffering…” I tell him cryptically, and I know I sound like a mafioso in a bad movie. “I told your secretary he was in an accident, but I didn’t say how bad. He’s paid for what he did to me.”
“I doubt that,” Shane levels me a dark look like he can imagine a far steeper punishment.
I’m never contrary. I don’t pick arguments or point out the fine details of the point I’m trying to make, but something about Shane makes me want to be understood.
“Well, isn’t it convenient that I didn’t ask you what you thought of my answer? I gave it, and for your information, someone parked his truck on his hand!”
His brow lifts in shock, and I think it’s because the details of Tim’s assault are so gruesome. In contrast, his eyes are filled with the warmth of his approval, and that crashes over me as he gifts me with his smile. But then, his expression darkens into something contemplative and melancholy.
“It wasn’t enough, Seraphina.”
His deep voice is so sure, so even, but I still ask, “Excuse me?”
“What happened to him was not a fair exchange for what he has done to you. But rather than argue over our moral compasses and what we believe the fitting punishment is for choking your wife so close to death, why don’t we start this session over?”
My mouth drops open. Start over? Is this a game for him?
“Let’s!” I clap sarcastically, “Good afternoon, Doctor Nelson.”
He smiles as he looks at his notes. He sees my sarcasm, and rather than resenting my attitude, I’ve amused him. I want that to make me angry, but instead, I feel warm.
“How are you doing today? Is it, yes, Seraphina?” He looks up at me through his lashes and flashes me a smile. I melt. His teasing demeanor drops, and he continues, “I don’t think we need to start from the top, Seraphina, but let’s not argue. I know it’s been a tough week.”
“That’s an understatement.” I agree as I slump into the cushions behind me, finally letting my fight deflate.
“So help me properly state it.”
I’m smiling again, and it makes no damn sense when we’re talking about my life collapsing all around me. I’m happier than I’ve been in years even though I’m still wearing the marks from my husband’s assault. I think about my answer for a minute and still smile when I speak.
“I’m drowning.” And not in your pretty blue eyes.
Maybe the fact that he’s a shrink explains how badly I want to spill my guts to him, but why am I obsessed with climbing into his arms? That I can’t explain so guiltlessly.
“Is that why you kept this appointment today, knowing Tim couldn’t make it?”
“He doesn’t know I’m here,” And you see me.
He’s quiet. His eyes slide over me, and there’s sadness in his appraisal.
“There aren’t a lot of places in your life you can turn to for support, are there, Seraphina?”
“No.” I shake my head and resist the urge to go to him.
I can’t think of anywhere or anyone I can turn to for support right now. I would have said Tim a few weeks ago, but would that have been true? He’s been attending school for two semesters now, pursuing a degree he picked this time, forging relationships outside of our marriage that satisfy him. He’s left me afloat all this time, so why would he care that I’ve finally gotten exhausted from hanging on?
“Did you feel like talking about your problems would help?” he’s talking to me in his perfect professional tone, and a crazy part of me wants to hear his post-climax voice again.
“I thought you would,” I answer too honestly.
“I’ll do my best, Seraphina.” He glances at his notebook, writes something down, and looks back at me. “I’d like to try something different if that’s okay with you. Leave Tim out of this conversation and focus on you.”
“Uh, I mean…”
I run my hands through my hair and push the locks behind my ears, but I don’t say anything else, hoping he’ll fill in the silence for me. Unfortunately, that’s my experience in life. The second there’s the slightest doubt, my voice is cast aside. It’s as much of a crutch as it is a cage.
Shane tilts his head to the side, like a predator sizing up his prey. “What do you mean?”
I sit up straighter, responding to the opportunity to please him. “I’m in therapy to work on my relationship with Tim. I’m not sure how leaving him out of it will help.”
“Humor me.”
He drags his pen across his bottom lip in a mindless gesture. His pink tongue flicks out ever so gently, sliding along the plastic.
My mouth goes dry.
“Yeah, okay.” Anything.
“Are you satisfied with your life outside of your relationship?” His pen taps against the page, but he makes no note of his question. Does he intend to record my answer? Is he even paying attention? The tip digs too hard into the paper, and ink pools beneath the fountain tip.
“My what?”
He clears his throat and sits up straight, simply flipping a few pages back to one that isn’t full of ink.
“Your life outside of Tim,” he enunciates each word slowly. “Your friends, family, work, hobbies, things in your life that belong to you.” He tips his head to the side, and I have the most bizarre feeling that this is another test.
“I would have to have one of those things to be satisfied or disappointed by them. My life is Tim.”
Guilt burns in my gut, and I’m not even sure why. Is it so ingrained in me to be the good little girl who never causes trouble that I can’t admit my feelings without shame, even during therapy?
Tim has kept me so fucking isolated, and he pretends he’s done it for my benefit, but maybe it’s because he’s embarrassed by his ties to me. And there is the thought I’ve been afraid to put into words since his birthday. Not only does he regret marrying me, but he’s also embarrassed to call me his wife.
“Seraphina, look at me.”
I do, and Shane’s gaze reaches the deepest parts of me.
“You don’t need to feel guilty for being unhappy.”
My cheeks pinken, the heat painful.
“I don’t!” I yell, that same guilt stabbing deep. “I mean, I’m not unhappy.”
I grind my teeth as I correct myself, but it’s too late. Shane doesn’t respond, just stares like we both know how full of crap I am, and it’s not worth acknowledging with words.
“So, you are satisfied with your ‘nothing’ outside of your relationship?” he persists.
“No, but the way you’re saying it, makes it sound like I’m not happy in my relationship either.”
“Are you happy in your relationship?” he asks, ignoring my accusation and staring at the bruises on my neck. Again his tone lacks all judgment, but I can tell he’s more invested than he’s letting on.
“No,” I whisper, and a part of my heart rips at my admission. “I don’t even know what I like, who I am. It’s pathetic.”
“There’s not a single thing about you that’s pathetic, Seraphina.”
“I’m a grown woman who knows nothing about herself.” I look down, toying with the ends of my hair.
His long silence compels me to look up. The broad smile on his face shocks me as much as it thrills me.
“I have an idea. Are you free after this?”
My eyebrows scrunch together. It sounds like Shane’s asking me out, but that can’t be it.
“I am. Why?”
