3 Weeks Later . . .

Journal entry

Ever since we figured out why work was a trigger, the panic has lessened. It’s crazy how the techniques he was so adamant about using seem to work.

The only thing that hasn’t gotten better is my nights. I still suffer from anxiety over the idea of sleeping. I’m not sure why I don’t tell him. Okay, that’s a lie. I’m too scared to acknowledge them. Afraid that finding the catalyst of them will break me and swallow me whole. Instead, every week I sit on the couch in front of him and pretend they never happened.

The desire to sneak out of the apartment before Sydney wakes is encompassing. It’s been a long, grueling week, and I need a minute to myself. I want to go grab breakfast alone but I have to do the right thing and at least ask.

“Syd? You want breakfast?” A groan emanates through the door separating us. I pop my head in. “Syd?” She’s still lying in her bed, and she’s submerged under the blanket.

“Too early.”

“It’s actually not.”

“Why did we drink so much last night?” She buries her head under the pillow and I force back a laugh.

“Because you said, and I quote, ‘Guys get cuter when we’re drunk.’ Is that a no to breakfast?” She doesn’t answer, so I assume the answer is no.

“Text me if you want me to bring you back something,” I yell on my way out.

Throwing on my coat and scarf, I head out into the winter air. The wind bites my skin. It causes my eyes to water. Bearing down against the elements, I push the door open to the diner and step inside.

What the hell?

What is he doing here? Standing in the corner is Dr. Montgomery, and he’s with two small children. I can’t let him see me.

Quickly, I attempt to turn around. Bumping into your therapist over waffles could definitely get awkward.

“Eve?” His face blanches and he straightens his back. A strange look passes over his features. Maybe he’s shocked to see me, too.

He’s dressed casually today. So casual I might not have recognized him if not for the mesmerizing eyes. He’s wearing a tight gray thermal, distressed jeans, and Chucks. It makes him appear younger than usual, but the fine lines along his forehead lead me to believe he’s in his mid-thirties. My eyes follow a path to survey him in his entirety. He’s tall and lean, and towers over my five foot four frame. His chocolate hair has streaks of blond as if it’s been sun kissed. It looks as though he recently ran his fingers through it because it has that perfectly tousled look to it. And his bone structure is striking.

“Uncle Preston, Uncle Preston.” A little girl tugs on the hem of his shirt and brings me out of my haze.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he coos at her, his lip tipping into the first genuine smile I have ever seen on his face. It’s a beautiful smile. A caring smile. One that says he adores this little girl and would do anything for her. A caring protector who would lay down his life for her happiness. It reminds me of the way Richard used to smile at me. It makes my heart lurch at the thought, but it also makes me want to get to know him better. It makes me want to get to know this side of him.

“Who’s she?” she blurts out in a small voice and he lets out a laugh.

“This is Eve, she’s a . . .” He pauses, his lips pinching together as he considers an appropriate title for me. “A friend.”

“A girlfriend?” she teases and I feel my whole face flush.

“No, Avery. She’s not a girlfriend.”

“You’re really pretty. You should be his girlfriend,” she teases in her little squeaky voice and I wonder how old she is to have so much sass. “You look like Elsa. Are you Elsa?” I can’t help but stifle back a laugh.

“No sweetie, I’m not.”

“Oh.” She lets out a huff and turns around, no longer impressed by me. My lips part in a smile and I catch Dr. Montgomery suppressing his own smile as well. All of a sudden another face pops out from behind him. This time it’s a little boy. He looks to be the same age as the little girl, Avery. Their features are similar. Both have crystal blue eyes and small button noses. Their hair has the same golden brown color with streaks of blond.

“Hi, and who is this?” I say looking straight at the little boy, still hiding behind his uncle’s leg.

“This is Logan. Logan, can you say hi?” I see Dr. Montgomery gently embrace him, encouraging him, letting him know he’s there for him if he needs him.

“When I was his age I was shy, too. He doesn’t have to say hi.” I turn my attention to the little boy. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable.” Trying to think of something to say to put him at ease, I notice his T-shirt has a familiar cartoon on it. “Do you like Cars?” He gives me a timid nod. “I have seen the movie a million times.” His pupils enlarge at my words. He looks awestruck.

“Hi, Eve,” he whispers out and a part of me melts. This child reminds me so much of me as a child. I want to hug him and tell him there is nothing to be scared of.

From my peripheral vision, I see the doctor staring. His blue eyes pierce the distance separating us. They search my own as if trying to hear my thoughts. At first they are sharp and accessing, but as each second passes between us and Logan moves farther into the room, no longer hiding, they soften. They are kind and tender and say thank you.

“Are you going to see the new one in the theater? It just came out,” I ask Logan and by this point he’s no longer hidden at all. Now he stands right beside me. A giant grin lines his face. His eyes are alive and dance with wonder as he turns and bounces with excitement.

“Can we? Can we?” He tugs on his uncle’s coat, and with that Dr. Montgomery lets out a laugh. He looks gorgeous when he laughs.

“Maybe after breakfast.”

“That would be super fun. Do you have all the toys?” I turn my head back to Logan and reach out to have a look at his car.

“I have every single toy. Uncle Preston got me a ton for my last birthday.” He reaches into his little pocket and pulls out car after car.

“It was your birthday? How old are you?” I ask.

“I’m five.” He stands proud.

“You are? Wow. You’re so big.” Avery steps forward with her little hand on her hip.

“I’m older.” Dr. Montgomery’s lip turns up as he shakes his head.

“She’s five minutes older than Logan,” he clarifies.

“I’m still older, Uncle Preston.” He places his arm around her and gives her a little squeeze, all while smirking. This is a totally different side to him, so unlike the stiff professional version I’m met with at my sessions. I like seeing this side. It makes him seem feasible. Like us sitting together at a table with his niece and nephew makes sense. I feel a tug on my shirt and I look down to see Logan standing directly beside me.

“This one is from the first movie and this one is the bad guy.” The tiny features of his face grimace as he holds the mean car up to me.

“I know. He’s really mean.”

“Yeah, like my sister.” He laughs. I glance up and Dr. Montgomery’s watching me intently. His eyes shimmer, silently saying a million things. So many unspoken words behind them, words that I’m desperate to hear. His lips part in a half smile and then he peers back down to his nephew.

At that moment the hostess walks over with three menus.

“It was good seeing you,” Dr. Montgomery says to me as he ushers the kids away from me. But Logan doesn’t move. Instead, he holds steadfast and pouts his lip.

“Can she eat with us?” Logan asks him.

“I don’t think so,” I say, but I wish I could. I’d do anything to be able to stay and spend more time with them.

“Oh, come on, Uncle Preston. Please, please, please,” he whines, and Avery turns back toward us and starts to chime in with her own chant. A strange, faintly eager look flashes across his normally professional façade. An array of emotions plays out on his features, but the one that stands out the most is a plea . . . A plea to make this little boy and girl he obviously cares deeply for happy. I smile down at the tiny faces below me.

“Of course I will.” I lift my gaze and I’m met with mesmerizing blue. He mouths a thank you and I give him a sincere smile in return.

As we start walking toward a big booth, Avery and Logan are lost in an argument about his cars being cooler than her Barbie dolls. I feel a soft touch on my shoulder and turn to find Dr. Montgomery staring back at me.

“Thank you, Eve. I know this isn’t how you planned to spend your day. Having you join us is against the rules—you being a patient and all—but these kids . . . they’re everything to me, and Logan’s going through a tough time right now. So, even though it’s wrong . . . Thank you.” The sadness in his stare is palpable. It breaks my heart into a million pieces.

“What’s going on?”

“He’s just really having a tough time in kindergarten. It’s hard for him to adjust. He’s not fitting in, and getting along with his peers has been a struggle. He’s shy, introverted and some of the kids have been teasing him. So to see him . . .” He pauses to inhale deeply and calm his emotions. “To see him so comfortable with you, it really means a lot.”

“They’re really sweet kids. Having breakfast with you is a pleasure. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Come on, they’re almost at the table.” Dr. Montgomery places his hand on the small of my back to let me lead the way. The contact causes my skin to prick with goose bumps. When the four of us arrive at the booth, I find myself sandwiched between the children and all I can do is laugh.

“So, what’s everyone having?” I ask as I look from right to left at both kids. In unison they both answer, “Chocolate chip waffles.”

“I see you’ve been here before.” Their little heads bob up and down.

“We come here all the time with Uncle Preston,” Avery declares and I lift my gaze to catch my doctor’s eyes.

“What will you have?” he inquires.

“I’m having the same. What about you?”

“Same. It’s my weekend staple.”

Interesting. “That’s funny. I’ve been coming here for years and I’ve never seen you before.” Small lines etch away at his features and his pupils appear to grow larger, but he quickly masks the change and smiles.

“I’m usually here a bit earlier than this, but with the kids today . . .”

The waitress comes over and he orders the famous chocolate chip waffles with whipped cream for all of us. When she steps away, I turn my attention back to Logan on my right hand side who is racing his cars across the table in front of me.

“Who’s winning?” I ask.

“Lightening McQueen,” he exclaims and the excitement in his little voice fills me with excitement, too.

“Of course he is.”

“So, do you guys live around here?” I’m looking at Logan when I ask this, but the truth is I’m secretly hoping for an answer from his uncle. The desire to know more about this man is all encompassing.

“Not us,” Logan replies as he pushes the car back and forth, the little tires scratching at the wood of the table. “But Uncle Preston does.” I look up.

“Where do you live?” He fidgets in his chair before answering.

“Lexington and Thirty-Fifth.”

“Oh? I’m on Thirty-Third and Third.” He nods but doesn’t reply. Instead, he reaches across the table for the rogue car that Logan has rolled his way and proceeds to enter the race.

I watch him for a moment. I watch sun stream in through the window and blanket him with a glow. I watch the love that pours from him toward the kids. This is a man I want to know. A man I could be friends with. It’s the first time in a long time that I wish time would cease, but instead, it seems to pass faster than normal. There’s never a lull in the conversation between us. The kids tell us stories all about kindergarten and their friends and all the mischief they get themselves into. The waitress returns with our breakfast and the table is filled with sounds of food joy.

I lift my fork and take another giant mouthful, this time scooping up extra cream.

As I enjoy and savor the flavor, I hear a round of giggles echoing through the air.

“What?” I lift my eyebrow and from across the table Dr. Montgomery leans forward. Time stands still as his hand reaches up.

“You have a—” His finger wipes my lip and it causes my breath to hitch. Our eyes lock. The intensity of his stare sears me. Every ounce of oxygen leaves my body, but then his blue eyes widen in shock as he realizes what he’s done. His hand jerks back, as though burned.

“You had something . . . I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” he stammers.

“It’s okay.” I try and shake it off, but I still feel his finger on my skin.

“That was funny. It looked like you had a mustache.” Logan laughs. Then Avery joins in and pretty soon the tension has dissipated as we all begin to laugh. Through our laughter, I notice the waitress deliver the bill and I reach into my purse, but I’m met with Dr. Montgomery shaking his head at me from across the table.

“My treat.”

“Thank you, I had such a great time with you guys today.” Logan grabs my hand. His little fingers are sticky to the touch.

“Do you want to go sledding with us?” he asks and I glance out the window. This morning when I left the apartment, I hadn’t noticed how perfect it was outside. But now sitting here, I see that it’s a beautiful winter day. The streets of Manhattan are blanketed with freshly fallen snow. It’s still clean and glistens into a beautiful crisp white.

“You guys are going sledding?” My right eyebrow rises in question and Dr. Montgomery’s lips spread into a large grin.

“It’s on the list of cool uncle duties.”

“Oh, you’re the cool uncle?”

“You bet.”

“I can totally see that. So, sledding. That sounds like fun.” I can imagine him running with kids in Central Park, sled in tow. What I would do to see that.

“Come. Please, please, please!” Avery chimes in with her own little pleas. Dr. Montgomery is deep in thought, but when our gaze catches, he exhales.

“You could join us if you want?” His lips turn up. It’s a different smile and so unlike all the other smiles I’ve now seen from him today. It’s not the smirk, nor is it the mesmerizing one where his eyes twinkle. It’s not the one that he gives his niece and nephew either. No, this smile says he’s unsure. That he wants me to come, he just doesn’t want to blur the lines anymore than he already has. This smile makes me beam up at him. But then my lips purse because I can’t go. I need to check on my mom.

“I can’t, guys.” Both kids pout. “I already have plans. I wish I could say yes, but unfortunately, I can’t. Maybe next time.” Please, God, let there be a next time.

We all go awkwardly silent for a minute, the kids silently sulking. When the waitress returns with his change, we stand.

“Can we see you again?” Logan says to me.

“Of course. I would love that.”

“It was good seeing you, and thank you for being so good with them,” Dr. Montgomery says. Both kids run up to give me a hug and as I hug them back I give them all a small smile and turn to leave.

I’m off to my mom’s and they’re off to have a perfect day, one I wish I could have with them.

I exit the restaurant and decide to walk the distance to my mother’s apartment. My feet slip into a slow, sluggish rhythm as I make my way down the sidewalk. I’m procrastinating. That much is obvious. There are a million things I would rather be doing than heading uptown to take care of my mother. One of them is sledding. I yearn to be silly and normal and to enjoy myself. But instead, I find myself standing on the corner, waiting for the light to change.

A knot is forming in my stomach from worrying what I will find when I arrive. No, I can’t let my brain go there right now, not after my wonderful morning. In place of the dreary thoughts looming over me, I think of the kids and Dr. Montgomery. Today I saw a different side of him, a playful side. I’m not sure that’s the kind of thing I should know about my doctor. I’m already attracted to him physically, and seeing him like this . . . It’s confusing. He’s not like this in his office. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to act now.

A memory flashes before my eyes. His finger. The feel of his skin on mine as he slides away the cream that collected on my lip.

Shit. This just got a whole lot more complicated.

* * *

As I peel the clothes off my body hours later, my cell phone rings. I’m not sure who it could be, but I tense when I see it’s my mother. Panic sets in. I was with her earlier today. This can’t be good.

“Hey, Mom. Are you okay?”

“I’m dying.” Shit.

“You’re not dying, Mom.” Nervously, I pace my room. This can’t be happening right now. I want to scream.

“No, I am. This time for sure.”

“Why do you think that?”

“My head is killing me and I have this weird rash on my arms. I know it’s spreading. I can feel it.”

“Can you, or is it in your mind?”

“I resent that you think that way. Of course it’s not in my mind. I need you to take—”

“Mom, I was there all afternoon and you were fine. I’m not coming back to your apartment to take you to the hospital over a headache.”

“But it could be anything! I could have a tumor. It could be cancer. I could die. You have no idea. I could be dying,” she screams over the phone. 

My entire body is tense, as if I’m glass and one wrong word will send me crashing into a million pieces. “Okay, Mom. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

And just like that, I fall to pieces.