Chapter 6
Kate
Fucking Starbucks. I felt like the place was starting to feel like a bad dream.
Everything was the same. Same smell. Same crowd yelling at someone keeping up the line; which was ridiculous, just like always.
I wasn’t even sure how we’d ended up there, to be honest. I knew he wanted to accompany me back to my apartment, which was sort of sweet, but also maddening. I was a grown woman and perfectly capable of making it home on my own. Not that I minded Craig’s company. I didn’t. I minded the fact that I was still upset and had to come up with things to say when, in all reality, I just wanted to say nothing. To be alone. I just wanted to be inside my own head. Especially because I had no idea what I was feeling and all I wanted to do was figure it out quickly before I went insane.
Craig was a good-looking, successful, sweet guy. Best of all, he wasn’t full of himself like a certain asshole that weighed on my mind. No, Craig was the kind of guy women wanted to bring home to meet their parents. I had wondered many times how the guy was still single. Until I realized that he’d wanted to ask me out, but couldn’t just get to the point. He wasn’t confident enough. But maybe that was a good thing… at the moment, the last thing I needed was Craig asking me out. My heart was in too much of a mess as it was.
“What do you think Claire’s feeling about all of this?” The sound of Craig saying Claire’s name brought me fully back from the thoughts whirling about in my head.
“Uh…” I stammered. I had no fucking clue what he meant. What was he even asking? Feel about what? Part of me felt angry with myself for not having any idea what he meant, another part felt completely embarrassed. “I’m so sorry; could you repeat the question?”
“We can do this another time, if you’re not feeling well…” he trailed.
I smiled faintly up at him. “Now is fine,” I assured him. I felt bad that I wasn’t paying more attention to what he was saying. I felt worse for why I wasn’t. Damn Ian Cross and the hold he had over me.
“What can I get for you guys?” The gorgeous blonde cashier asked, glancing up with a pleasant smile.
“Grande Mocha Latte,” we both called out.
“Two?” she asked, a wide smile. “Or one?”
“Two,” Craig said.
We’d ordered the same thing — at the same exact time. “So much for ‘Ladies first,’” I scoffed jokingly, trying to get back in the conversation and in the present.
“You’re an independent type, didn’t think you’d care about that sort of thing,” he laughed, throwing a wink at me.
The lady at the register smirked, “You guys are cute,” she said. And immediately I felt a blush rush to my cheek, and I looked at him, and I could tell that it’d done the same to him. “Names?”
“Craig and Kate,” he said before draping an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close.
I stiffened.
I didn’t know what he thought it was accomplishing. I didn’t know if he’d been suddenly granted more confidence by the cashier girl or if he wanted to give her a show… but whatever the reason, it was freaking me out.
I cleared my throat and bundled away from his arm, under the pretense that I was gathering a sleeve for my coffee.
“Thank you, for making sure I got home safely,” I said to him through what I could only guess was vaguely unfocused eyes. But I wanted to change the subject. I wanted to avoid the fact that I’d very much just pulled away from contact with him.
“It wasn't a problem,” he replied. It seemed like he was fighting a smile.
“It's really nice of you. Really,” I said. It was. It was nice of him. The nicest, actually. No matter how much of a wrench it’d thrown into my plans of going home and going to bed early.
“Truth is, I had my reasons. Have you been okay?” he asked. “You seemed sort of spacey at the meeting… and that’s not like you. You’re always very proactive when it comes to Claire.”
He was right. I wasn’t being myself. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately,” I replied lamely as we shuffled through the swarm of people. There was one table off in the distance where a couple was just starting to stand up to leave.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked sweetly as we sat down. His tone was soft, innocent and caring. I could see how he was a therapist. “Free of charge…”
I smiled. “That would be a first!”
He brought the grande-sized cup away from his lips and clutched at his heart with his free hand. “That hurts!” he said in a false offense, his laugh betraying him.
“What does that say about me, Doctor? That I’m trying to hurt others because I, myself, am hurting?” I smirked.
“Are you hurting?” he asked, his tone getting serious as he leaned forward in his chair.
“Nice try, therapist!” I laughed. “But seriously, about Claire, what do you think the best option is?”
“Well,” he said, bringing the cup to his lips once again to take a small sip. “I think you’re doing everything right. We’ll just continue to be proactive and work with her, see if the private tutor works under the supervision of the school’s therapist.”
He set his coffee cup down and smiled, “And we’ll continue to have sessions every week; and we’ll see what’s going on beneath the surface.”
“Is there anything that jumps out at you?” I asked, taking the first drink from my own coffee. It was like chocolate heaven. I fucking loved Mocha Lattes. I hadn’t been to a Starbucks since Ian sent me that text.
“I can’t talk about our therapy sessions,” he laughed.
“I know. But I can’t help but feel that maybe she feels like I’m abandoning her by moving across the country.”
“Do you feel like you’re abandoning her?” He leaned forward again, his stare set on me.
“Wow, you can tell you’re a therapist! Do you ever answer any questions?” I was amused, I had to admit, but also a little annoyed. I sincerely wanted to know if my moving would affect her. I’d talked to her about it before, and she’d told me that she knew — out of everyone — that I’d always be there for her. But if that was the case, then why had she felt the need to cut herself for attention?
He laughed. “Do you want me to answer questions?” I wasn’t sure if he was flirting or if he was just being funny, but I couldn’t help but smile.
“Maybe…” I honestly wasn’t sure if I was flirting either. Maybe, deep down, I needed a little flirting. Maybe I needed a little self-imposed therapy and the good doctor was just the man to fill the prescription.