I make it to the office, but I’m late. The first point of business is Levi’s aunt, CeCe. Short for… I’m not sure. I would prefer to use her given name, but that information isn’t in the file. As the phone rings for the fifth time, I notice my pen tapping my desk in frustration, then quickly get my head back in the game when she finally answers.

“Good morning. This is Dr. Theodore Grant, Levi’s psychiatrist. I was hoping this would be a good time to discuss his progress.”

“Hi Dr. Grant. Sure, Levi told me you would be calling.”

“First, let me offer my condolences on your loss. The situation is a tragedy. Please know I will do all that I can to help Levi.”

“I know, Dr. Grant, but Levi says he wasn’t a witness, and maybe he wasn’t. I don’t want to traumatize the boy any more than he has been already.”

I can hear the intake of a cigarette and her blowing out the smoke in between her words. A behavior I file under addiction.

“I couldn’t agree more.” I take a moment to gather my thoughts.

“May I ask you what your long-term plans are in respect to the care of Levi? If his father goes to jail, you will be his sole guardian. If his father is let go, he may be forced to live with him, which I would contest, but only if I have a solid commitment to a stable loving environment.”

“Yeah, I thought this was a temporary thing. What are his choices?”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Her only sister was violently killed, her only nephew is left homeless, and she’s looking for other options? I wish I had a moment to calm down before I answer, but I fucking don’t.

“May I call you CeCe?”

“Sure, everyone does.” The slight twang grinds on my last nerve.

“His best option is with you. If he does well in school, with the right guidance, in three years he’s off to college. That would be my recommendation. If you refuse to do that, he will go into foster care until the court decides what his father’s fate is. Obviously, I don’t recommend Levi be near the man suspected of murdering your sister. I’m sure you don’t, either. Foster care is risky, because you never know if he’ll be placed in a good home or one that will be detrimental to his well-being.”

Fuck, I know this all too well. I hear her breathing, so I wait in silence. She actually has to think this over? I sweeten the deal just in case.

“CeCe, I understand your sister had a life insurance policy. If Levi’s father is convicted, it should be handed to Levi. Right now he’s underage and would need a guardian to help him with his financial needs.”

I feel like I just sold a child.

“Well, ain’t that interesting. I know that would really help us out with another mouth to feed.”

“Exactly. I’ll need you to sign a letter of commitment.”

I don’t know if this even exists. I’ll let her think she’s contractually committed. Next, I’ll be calling Levi’s principal. I need to bounce some ideas off him.

“That’s no problem, doctor. We’ll take in the poor child.”

“Thank you, CeCe. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

I hang up feeling as if I just bargained with the devil, lesser of the two evils. Levi’s own father was not an option. It was all too Infuriating

Needing to expel the destructive energy of my conversation with CeCe, I call my gym, the one where I played tennis with Matt. A wretched feeling claims me knowing I’ll never witness him kicking my ass again.

“This is Dr. Grant. I’m looking for a tennis partner. Can you put me on the list?”

“Of course I can, Dr. Grant. And my deepest condolences in regards to Dr. Barnett.”

“Thank you. The sooner the better,” I add, directing the conversation back to my original reason for calling.

“We have a doubles opening today.”

“Doubles? What level?”

It’s not my first choice, but it might do.

“It’s 3.0 for this group. They seem to have an opening. Should I put you in? It’s at four o’clock today.”

“Yes, confirmed.”

My erratic thoughts are escalating and deviating my focus may be exactly what I need.

I show up to court six and walk down the stairs to the large indoor space. I set my bag down. Being the first one to arrive, I open the can of tennis balls. The whoosh sound triggers back great memories of game after game with Matt as I see another guy arrive.

“Hey, I’m Joe. I’ll be your doubles partner today.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Theo. Do you want forehand or backhand?”

I notice the one other man arrive in the distance. A tall blond dressed in white is carrying a pink tennis bag and heading in our direction. Her curls bounce in rhythm with her large fake tits. I feel her check me out as she greets her partner across the net.

“I’m Heather, and you are?” She’s intentionally emphasizing her assets as she offers her hand to mine.

“Theo. You must be a regular here?”

“You could say that. You any good, Theo?” Her bright smile is subliminally speaking loud and clear.

“I’m better at singles, but doubles were open, and I needed a good workout.”

“If that’s a challenge, I accept.” She winks and walks away as we all get into position.

“I’ll take back-hand so you can serve.”

Joe walks to the net and yells, “Up or down?”

“Up” Heather replies.

Joe spins his Wilson racket and the bottom of the handle, where the W is shown to our opponents. It’s down.

“You serve first,” Joes states.

“Okay, that’s me.”

I go to the right corner, remembering the different rules between singles and doubles. My toss is high and fierce, hitting the ball with great force. It flies just over the net, staying within the lines. The other side quickly runs, and then it’s returned to me. They’re good. We both move up, working the net as Joe takes a lob, and they miss it.

“Fifteen love.”

And I serve again. At one point, I realize this is what it means to be living in the moment; not the past or the future, but now. And living in the now isn’t stressful at all. How many times have I used this on my patients?

We have the court for ninety minutes, and I come out looking as if I just walked out of a shower. I’m drenched in sweat, but so are all my teammates. All but Heather. At some point, she lifted her hair in a messy bun. Now strands of her blonde locks are flowing down, wet from perspiration.

“Let’s do this again sometime,” she offers. “Soon.”

She brushes her shoulder against mine as we make our way to the showers. “Hey, wait for me after you’re done. I want to get your number.”

I nod, pacifying myself as I acknowledge that this is my old pattern. Same type of woman, same rules, same distance. But there is still some comfort in the trivial encounter.

I let the water cascade down on me in the shower, and the physical exertion along with the natural endorphins do their job. I didn’t think of my work or my duties while I was out there playing. And most importantly, I didn’t think of her.

As I expected, Heather is ready and waiting when I’m done, looking just as fresh, as if she never played. Her painted-on jeans and low-cut top are a sight to behold. Should I surrender to meaningless sex? I maintain eye contact as her gaze becomes heated, pretending interest when, in reality, there is none.

She hesitates. “Coffee?”

“Is that what you really want, Heather?” I lean one arm over her head, pressing it against the wall. I can’t help but wonder if she has the power to dull this ache that consumes me. As I hover over her with authority, my mind races to test out my theory with a quick fix.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asks in a hushed tone, her hand landing on my chest. Licking her lips, I’m confident we are on the same page. Then she bites her lip and glances away, toward the door marked private. She pulls a key out from her bra and gives me a sinful smile.

“What are we waiting for?”

Ready to fuck, I pull her by the hand toward the door. I watch her unlock the office, where a small lamp sits on the desk. It’s the only light in the room. I lock the door behind me and pull her closer, touching every curve as desperate breaths escape her.

“Do you like the way that feels?”

As I unbutton her blouse and let it slide down her arms, her pink bra falls with one easy snap, and my hands frantically move over her exposed breasts.

“Use your mouth, Heather.”

Feeling empowered, I push her to her knees and quickly discard my pants, lowering my Calvins to my thighs. My firm cock is eager for her to sample my awaiting shaft.

Her mouth barely touches me as her tongue skims over the most sensitive areas, stirring a primal need in me as I watch her take me to unbearable heights.

“Jesus, Heather.”

It turns me on to watch her, and I’m breathing hard as I fuck her mouth.

“What I really want is to fuck you over this desk.”

She pulls out a condom from her bag and hands it to me. She sure comes prepared.

I slip her jeans down in one quick sweep. I feel her slick and ready before I enter her, picking up the rhythm as I reach around to stroke her clit. Her fevered skin flushes as I’m filling her.

“God, Theo, don’t stop! I’m going to come.”

Once I hear her final surrender, I want it harder and deeper than before. My fingers tangle in her blonde curls and I grip her hip tightly as I fly apart, flooding her with all I have to give.

“Fuck me” is all I say as guilt crashes like a tidal wave with violet eyes. I ache for a much deeper feeling, but it never comes.

What have I done? The darkness of betrayal overshadows me in such a way that I know I will never allow myself this empty pleasure again.

As we are saying our goodbyes, I hand Heather my card, which does not have my number on it.

I know. What a prick.