Chapter Three
Xavier
I sighed as I pushed the door to the luxury gym open. I’d been avoiding this moment for weeks. I hadn’t seen my best friend, Jason, in over a month since I was traveling for work. I figured he’d have questions about what happened between his sister and me, and I had no answers for him. Hell, I didn’t even know what happened between us. It was like one moment, we were golden, waking up to one another in bed, and the next I was storming out of her place, angry as hell.
To be honest, I still couldn’t even pinpoint what it was that made me so angry at Chanel. All I knew was, seeing her face bruised like that by her ex made me want to do things I’d never considered before. Not even when my ex-girlfriend cheated on me with a friend had I felt the urge to murder anyone. But Chanel brought out every protective instinct I had, and that shit scared the hell out of me. Maybe that’s why I left. Who knows?
“What up? Long time no see,” Jason greeted me as I entered the weight room of the two-story gym.
“What up?” I responded, as we gave the one-arm handshake and pulled one another into a side hug.
“How you been?” Jay asked cautiously.
I ran my hand down the side of my face, feeling the scruffiness of the beard I’d been growing in. “Busy as hell.”
“So I see.”
We made small talk as we warmed up and stretched a little before our intense workout. I could feel the tension, though. I knew it was inevitable that the elephant in the room was brought up. It didn’t slip past my memory that this was the same room where, about five months ago, I’d spoken to Jason about wanting to take his sister out.
“How was Vegas?” he asked as I spotted him on the bench press machine.
“Vegas was cool. Got a lot of shit done that I needed to handle. If all goes well, the restaurants should be ready to open at the end of this year.”
“Wow, that fast, huh?”
“Yeah, you know I’ve been working on this for a while now.”
“True, true,” Jason nodded.
We switched positions and he stood over me, spotting while I took my turn at bench presses. For a long while, the only conversation between us was my grunting and Jason’s counting.
“Let’s go, one more rep,” he encouraged.
I grunted hard, pushing the bar up on my final rep. The clicking of metal as it lowered onto the stand that held it was like music to my ears. I blew out a deep breath at the instant physical relief and sat up on the bench. I wiped the sweat from around my face and neck as Jay came from behind the bar and sat on the bench across from me.
“You know Chanel came storming into our father’s office?” Jason started, out of nowhere.
I peered up at him. “Oh, yeah? When?”
“About a week and a half ago. She’d been avoiding us for weeks after everything went down. Then outta nowhere, she appears in Pop’s office, asking him if he was the one behind that article.”
My head tilted in surprise. “She didn’t believe that, did she?”
Jay inclined his head. “She seemed to. I walked in on her yelling at Pops in his office.”
“Shit. How ugly did it get?”
“Not too bad, once I explained it was Robert’s ass who’d gone off the deep end and had her followed by a PI. Pops explained that Robert had been fired as a result. She calmed down a little after that.”
“There’s a lot of shit between your pops and Chanel.”
Jay ran a hand down his face and his eyes raised to the ceiling. “I know, man. You should’ve seen her face in his office. She seemed like she genuinely hated him. Or at least, really disliked him.”
“Nah, she doesn’t hate him,” I started before I thought better of speaking for her. I paused, contemplating whether or not I should tell Jason my perception of Chanel and their father’s relationship. I decided to keep my mouth shut on the subject, but Jay had other ideas.
“You think you know her that well?” I heard the challenge in his voice.
“I do,” I answered with confidence.
“What makes you think that?”
I rubbed the back of my neck, growing irritated at his line of questioning. I knew Chanel. Maybe not everything, obviously. But we’d spent too much time getting under one another’s skin for me not to know her. But I didn’t feel like sharing that with Jason. I wanted to keep the intimacy I felt with Chanel just between us.
“The real question is, why don’t you know her that well?”
Jay’s expression morphed into shock. “The hell is that supposed to mean?” He stood up from the bench at the same time I did.
“It means exactly what I said. She’s your sister. Why the fuck didn’t you know what the hell was going on in her life? Why the hell did you find out about the shit that went down with her fiancé at the same time I did? Five years after the fact?” Those were questions I’d been wondering for weeks now. Another reason I’d kept my distance from Jay, aside from my traveling. He was her older brother, supposed to protect her, no matter what. And he failed. So, I was pissed at him too.
“Man, I tried to look out for her. You should know that better than anyone else. What the hell did you think I was doing those times I asked you to stop in and check in on her while you were in D.C?”
My head shot back in surprise. I thought back to the times Jay would ask me to pop in on Chanel while I was out in D.C. handling business. She was still in law school at the time and living with Ethan.
“I never liked that dude. Something about him always seemed off to me. Well, not even him but the way Chanel seemed to close up in herself when he was around.” Jay shook his head as if remembering the signs of what was going on in their relationship right in front of him and being completely oblivious to it at the time. “You never picked up on anything when you saw her out there?”
I closed my eyes, thinking about one of the times I visited Chanel’s D.C. apartment.
Six years earlier…
“Xavier, what’re you doing here?” Chanel asked through the intercom of her apartment building.
“I was in town and remembered you didn’t live far from one of the spots I’m opening. Let me up. I bought some pumpkin scones from the deli down the block.”
“Oh! I love that place. Hang on.”
A second later I heard the buzzer sound signaling I’d been granted access to the building. I opted to take the stairs to her third-floor apartment instead of the elevator.
“Hey.” She answered the door with a warm smile on her face.
I let my eyes glide down the length of her body. Her hair was pulled back in a poofy ponytail at the back of her head. She wore a simple, gray sleeveless tank top and black stretch pants. I grinned at the pink polish on her toe
nails. I briefly wondered why I even noted the color of her toenails, but pushed that thought aside.
“Hey. Can I come in?” I asked when I realized I was still on the outside of her door as we stared at one another.
“Oh.” She blinked. “Sure, come in. Is it cold out?”
“Nah, not too bad.” I pulled off the leather jacket I’d been wearing and placed it on the back of one of the wooden chairs in the kitchen. “What’re you up to?”
“I’m just studying. Finals start next week.”
“Then only one more semester of law school left. You ready to work as a lawyer?”
She gave a halfhearted shrug. “I’m scared as hell, to be honest. You want something to drink?” She asked over her shoulder as she pulled out two plates from an overhead cupboard.
I had to tear my eyes away from her round ass in those leggings. “Here, let me help.” I stepped behind her, placing my hand on the small of her back and easily reaching up, grabbing two saucers.
“Thank you.” Her voice was breathless. “I don’t know why Ethan insists on putting the dishes on the second shelf where I can barely reach them.”
The mention of her live-in boyfriend reminded me that she was taken. For some reason, my stomach twisted at the reminder that she shared this place with another man. I stepped back, placing my hands on the counter, instead of on her. “You didn’t need a plate for me. I just wanted to drop these off.” That was a partial lie. Jason had asked me to check on Chanel and make sure she was straight. I did that from time to time when I was in D.C.
“No, please stay for a little while.”
When she turned those big brown eyes on me, pleading, my knees felt a little weak.
“Ethan’s working late, as usual, and I’ve just been studying. It’s so quiet here.” She stared at me, waiting for my response. I dropped my coat, which I had grabbed from around the chair. That move instantly brought a smile to her face.
“A’ight. I’ve got some time before I have to be anywhere. But I’m not eating one of those pumpkin scones.” I pointed at the box with a look of disgust on my face.
“Oh, c’mon, they’re not that bad,” she teased, pushing the opened box in my face so I could smell them.
I turned my head. “Nah.”
“If you don’t like pumpkin scones, why did you buy them?”
“I told you, they’re for you. I remembered you liked the pumpkin scones I sold at my coffee shop back home.”
She grinned. “You remembered that?”
I nodded, shocking us both. She’d devoured those things from the little coffee shop I owned just off the campus of the University of Houston, where we’d both attended, though at different times.
“They were so delicious. Do you still sell them?” she asked, placing a scone on one of the saucers and pouring a glass of almond milk she’d pulled from the fridge.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I sold that place a couple of years ago.”
Her forehead creased. “Why?”
“I wasn’t interested in the cafe business.”
“On to bigger and better?”
I nodded.
“Um, well we have some brownies I bought earlier this week. You do like brownies , right?”
“Of course.”
“Almond milk? It’s vanilla flavored.”
“Sure.”
“I was used to regular milk, but my best friend Gabby is vegan, and she’s got me hooked on almond milk now,” she stated as she took a seat across from me at the wooden circular dining table. We enjoyed our snacks for a few minutes in silence. I had to force myself to keep it together when Chanel closed her eyes and moaned a little bit after the first bite of her scone.
“I’ve been trying to be good and stay away from that deli for weeks now.”
“Why?” I took a sip of my milk.
“Because between that place and the stress of finals, I could gain ten pounds, easy. Ethan’s already been making comments about me gaining weight.” She frowned and my fist tightened at the thought of her thinking she could be anything less than desirable.
“He’s a fucking fool.”
My bluntness caught her off-guard, and she gasped. I hadn’t said anything I didn’t mean, so I simply stared at her as I took another bite of my brownie. “Why aren’t you out on the town on a Friday night? I know you said you’ve got finals, but that’s not until next week.”
She made an unreadable face. “Ethan’s at work.”
“And? Why can’t you go out with friends?”
“Most of my friends are also busy studying. But my best friend is packing to move across the country in a few days.”
“That sucks. Why aren’t you helping her?”
A pout formed on her lips. “We’re not speaking right now.”
“Why not?”
Her eyes shot up to my face before she peered at something over my shoulder. A far off look appeared on her face.
I lowered the glass of milk I’d been ready to take a sip from, alarm bells ringing in my gut.
“No reason. Just girl stuff.” She waved a hand as if it was no big deal.
Something told me differently, though. Before I could question Chanel about it, noise at the door drew both of our attentions. A few seconds later, the door opened, and a man strode through. He stopped short when his eyes landed on me. His face turned into a scowl.
“E-Ethan,” Chanel started, jumping from her seat and scurrying over to her boyfriend. “You’re home. I thought you’d be in a little later.” I could’ve been imaging things, but her voice sounded strange. Almost guilty.
I frowned, not liking the tone her voice now held. His scowl moved from me to Chanel.
“Yeah, I finished the brief I was working on earlier than expected. I thought I’d come home and surprise my favorite girl by taking her out to dinner. But I see you’ve already eaten.” He eyed the plates on the table, then turned his gaze on me.
I picked up my glass and took the last sip of milk before slowly standing. I didn’t like the vibe I was getting from this dude.
“Ethan, this is Xavier, Jason’s best friend. He’s in D.C. on business and stopped by to drop off some scones. We were just catching up.” She stopped talking shortly, biting her lower lip and moving to stand in between me and Ethan.
“Yeah, that’s right. You’ve told me about him.” His face seemed to soften just a little.
“What’s up?” I greeted, sticking my hand out.
“Not much, man.” He shook my hand. We stood at about the same height. At six-foot-
one, I may have been an inch or two taller than him. “Thanks for keeping my girl company while I was at work.” He pulled Chanel into his side.
“Thanks for the scones, Xavier.” Chanel gave me a half-smile.
“Anytime,” I responded, and I swear Ethan’s face tightened at that. Before I could give him another look, my phone buzzed. I pulled it out seeing the name of the woman I’d intended to take out later that evening. That reminded me I needed to head out if I was going to make my date with Genene. I hit ignore but shot her a quick text letting her know I’d call her back in a few minutes.
“I gotta head out. Chanel, it was good catching up. Ethan.” I gave him a nod as I stepped around him and moved to the door.
“Thanks again,” Chanel added as she escorted me out.
There was a look in her eyes I wanted to ask about, but my phone buzzed again. This time it was my assistant, telling me some information about a building I’d been looking to purchase.
“You take care. Enjoy those scones.”
“I will.” She closed the door rather abruptly, but I didn’t think too much of it as I strolled down the hall, reading over the email I’d just received.
****
I looked up at Jason after recalling that exchange close to six years ago. “Shit,” I stated, slumping back down to the bench.
“What?” Jay frowned, sitting across from me.
“I felt something was off with that dude too. The first time I met him, he seemed...pressed that I was even in his apartment. Chanel’s demeanor changed too. Like, she scurried to be up underneath him, almost rushing me out the door once he showed up. Fuck! I should’ve known then.” I shook my head, unable to believe what I’d just remembered. How could I not have seen it back then? She was scared as hell of him. I’m sure Ethan coming home and seeing another man in his apartment had been enough to set him off that night. My hands balled into fists.
“Yo, X. Don’t beat yourself up about this either. You’re right, she’s my sister. I should’ve known too. I was too busy being caught up in my own world.”
“Fuck that. We both should’ve known better.” I shook my head, staring at the ground. My instincts were one thing I prided myself on, and now remembering how I’d ignored them pissed me off. “I’ve been looking for his ass too.”
Jason’s gaze shot back to me. “Ethan?”
“Hell, yeah. He’s been in the wind. He hasn’t worked full-time as a lawyer in years. Does some freelancing here and there, but he moves around a lot. I have a private investigator looking for him,” I admitted.
Jay nodded. “I had to handle Robert’s ass, so I got a little distracted from looking for Ethan.”
“I’m gonna see him sooner or later,” I stated. The memory I’d just had of that brief exchange back in D.C. made me want to see him soon. The look I’d been trying to identify in Chanel’s eyes that evening was fear. Plain and simple. It was the same look I remember seeing on the rooftop the night of her engagement party, when her fiancé came out while I was congratulating her. If I hadn’t been so concerned about my business or my date that first time, I might’ve caught on sooner. Either way, I knew I was going to catch up with Ethan’s ass eventually.
“Yo, why don’t you come over this Saturday? We can watch the game and catch up,” Jason invited.
I noted the time on the wall. We both needed to head out to get to work. “Yeah, that sounds cool. I’ll be there,” I answered. We slapped hands, giving each other a hand shake and half-hug. I grabbed my towel and went to do a quick cardio session before leaving to take a shower, all the while thinking about what I’d do to Ethan Miller once I saw him again.
****
Chanel
I blew out a deep breath as I stood in front of the door that read Dr. Sandra Winston. It’d taken me weeks to recognize the fact that I needed to come here. And then, it took another week to build up the courage to make the appointment. Thankfully, she had availability on Saturday mornings. I just needed to take one little step over the threshold into her office.
I’d thought about canceling, but enduring weeks of nightmares had finally set me straight. If I wasn’t dreaming about Anne Marie and Noah’s death, it was that same dream from my tenth birthday. And if it wasn’t either of those two, I laid awake yearning to be held by strong, chestnut arms. With all that hanging over my head, I pushed the glass door open and stepped into Dr. Winston’s outer office.
I was greeted by the scent of lavender. The space wasn’t too big or opulent, but it was inviting. The smell that wafted through the air and the small waterfall that sat on the bookshelf to the right gave off a calming feeling. I walked past the chairs lined up on either side to head to the front desk.
“Hi, can I help you?” the young blond male receptionist greeted as I approached.
“Yes, Chanel Richards. I have a ten o’clock with Dr. Winston.”
He nodded, then looked to the computer screen in front of him. “There you are. I just need your insurance card and can you fill out these forms for me?” He handed me a clipboard with the typical first-time patient forms attached.
After handing him my insurance card, I went and took a seat to fill out the forms. In the background, I heard him call Dr. Winston to let her know I was there.
“Dr. Winston will be out in five minutes,” he informed me.
“Thank you,” I responded, as I handed him the completed paperwork. Still feeling a little antsy, I opted to stand and take a look around the office. I examined the pictures of the three different psychotherapists who shared the office space. The articles that had been framed and put up on the walls were a testament to each of their abilities. Satisfied with my perusal, I sat and picked up a People magazine from the coffee table, but before I could get past the first few pages, I heard my name. I looked up into the face of a woman who looked to be in her early to mid-fifties. Her dark curly hair was graying at the temples and her caramel face wrinkled as she smiled.
“Chanel?” She approached me with her hand out.
I stood, taking her hand. “Dr. Winston, a pleasure to meet you.”
“Come, my office is right down the hall,” she informed me, before turning and heading that way.
I followed, noting the two other closed doors we passed on the way.
“Please, have a seat.”
Her office was smaller than I predicted, but comfortable. Her desk was perched in the left corner, next to a large window that looked out onto the downtown street below. On the right, there was a large leather chair and a shelf behind it that held some psychology books and various plants. Again, the scent of lavender permeated the room, and I realized there was a diffuser sitting atop the shelf.
“Does the smell bother you? I can shut this off.” She pointed to the diffuser.
“No. It’s fine. I love the scent of lavender. And is that clary sage?”
She nodded. “I find a warm and relaxing environment helps my clients to open up. Essential oils help me create that type of ambiance.”
I wondered if that was true. “Hmm. My friend Gabby is into homeopathic remedies and such. She’s really into essential oils.” I sat and made myself comfortable on the black leather love seat across from the door.
“Tell me why you came to see me today?” She smoothed down the black midi-skirt she wore to sit in her chair, crossing her legs.
“Um, well, I haven’t been sleeping.”
“And how long has that been going on?”
“A little over a month.”
She looked up at me. “And what happened a month ago?”
I blew out a breath and pushed my hand through my hair. “My world kinda bottomed out.”
She gave me another look but remained silent, allowing me to continue.
“An article was released that detailed my last relationship.” I inhaled before continuing. “My ex-fiancé was abusive, physically and emotionally. It ended five years ago when I left him and moved across the country. The article tried to make it seem as if I was some vengeful man-hater who used my status as a divorce attorney to discredit the husband of a client. It also showed pictures of him and me together at a restaurant not too far from my current place of work, holding hands.”
“This was recent, then?”
I nodded. “A couple of months ago, I received a letter from Ethan, who wanted to meet. I put it off, but finally responded. We met at a bistro, and he apologized.”
Dr. Winston looked surprised. “He apologized? For the abuse?”
“He did. Believe me, I was surprised too, but when I sat at the table across from him, I felt like he meant it. I reached across the table to grab his hand to let him know I’d forgiven him, and that must’ve been when the picture was taken of us.”
“By whom?”
“What?”
“Who took the picture?”
“Oh.” I rolled my eyes. “It turns out an employee of my father’s law firm was having me followed by a private investigator out of spite. He was trying to get dirt on me. Apparently, he wanted to make me appear bad in my father’s eyes.”
“You said your father’s law firm?”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you a lawyer too?”
I nodded.
“So, let me see if I’ve got this straight. You were with a man who physically and mentally abused you. You broke up with him, moving across the country. Now, five years later, he resurfaces to apologize, and a couple of months later, an article is written about you, depicting you as a vindictive man-hater, and come to find out an employee at your father’s firm was behind it?”
“Sounds about right.”
“Do you suspect your ex was a part of the setup?”
“I thought about that but honestly, I doubt it.”
Dr. Winston nodded as she continued to write in her notepad.
“Is there more?” she finally asked.
I nodded. “A couple of months before that, a client of mine and her three-year-old son were murdered by her husband in a murder-suicide. I was there.”
At that revelation, her eyebrows shot up and she tilted her head, peering at me over her glasses. “That’s a lot.”
“Tell me about it.” I turned my head to stare out the window, trying to ward off memories of Anne Marie and a bleeding Noah, only to be confronted by memories of that awful picture of me, bloodied and bruised. And then, memories of Xavier. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around my waist.
“Is there more?” Dr. Winston asked, breaking up the silence.
“And…” I trailed off, not knowing how to phrase my next thoughts. I eventually just opted for total transparency. “I think I let the best thing that ever happened to me get away.”
Her silence begged for more details. I appreciated that she didn’t rush me.
“I was dating someone at the time all of this happened. Someone I cared for deeply, and he ended up leaving me too.”
“Too?”
I closed my eyes and inhaled. I hadn’t meant to say it like that. “I mean, Xavier left when the article revealed my past. I’d lied to him about the reasons of my breakup with Ethan.”
“Do you love him?”
“I think so.”
“Think?”
“Yes. Yes, I love him.”
“Hmm,” she stated, scribbling notes on the yellow legal pad she held in her lap.
I stared out the window as she continued writing. My chest felt like there was an elephant sitting on it.
“Thank you for your honesty, Chanel. It seems you’ve experienced a lot in such a short period. Did you ever receive any counseling after the murder of your client?”
“No,” I answered, just above a whisper. I had considered grief counseling immediately after the murders, but eventually forgot about it. The truth was, I’d felt so safe with Xavier and the way he’d taken care of me afterward, I’d convinced myself I didn’t need counseling. Just some time to move past it and I’d be all right.
“And did you ever receive any counseling after you broke up with your fiancé?”
Again, the answer to that question was a resounding, “No.”
She jotted down some more notes. Dr. Winston peered up at me to see me staring down at the pad in her lap.
“My apologies, Chanel. I should’ve told you beforehand, during our sessions, I usually write notes, just to help me remember what we’ve discussed. No one else will ever see these. All right?”
I nodded. “I get it. I do the same with my clients.”
She smiled. “Right, as an attorney, I know you understand how confidentiality works. It’s very similar for therapists. So,” she paused, removing her glasses and setting them on top of the pad. “I want to explain to you how I think I can help you. I’m a cognitive behavioral therapist, which means I specialize in getting to the underlying thoughts that lead to behaviors. By changing those thoughts, the end goal is to alter your behaviors for the better. One pattern of yours I see is that you haven’t dealt with a lot of past or current trauma, and when that happens, it tends to come out when we least expect it. I’d imagine that’s why you're having trouble sleeping. Our defenses are at their weakest point when we’re asleep, and nightmares tend to be the body’s way of processing our unexpressed emotions. Does that make sense?”
I thought about it before answering. “I guess it makes sense.” I chuckled. “I was just kinda hoping you’d be able to give me a prescription for sleeping pills and I’d be on my way.”
Her lips formed into a thin line. “I could do that, or rather, I could write a referral for you to see the psychiatrist across the hall and he could prescribe you some sleeping pills, but I don’t think that would be best.”
“Why not?”
“Because just from the little you’ve told me, you’re dealing with the trauma of a past abusive relationship. Granted, you’ve stated your ex-fiancé apologized, and maybe he was sincere, but it doesn’t seem as if you’ve ever dealt with it. You also were a witness to a murder-suicide just over, what…two or three months ago? And on top of all that, you’re going through a breakup with someone you care for deeply. In my estimation, just from this short time we’ve been together, I would say you’re experiencing mild symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. Do you know what that is?”
“PTSD, of course.”
“Right, and given the fact that it took us nearly two weeks to find a time slot for you to get in to see me, I’d say you’re overcompensating with working.”
I lowered my gaze to the carpet, taking in everything. It was true, it’d taken close to two weeks to find a time to get into Dr. Winston’s office. For the past month, I’d even gone into my office on Saturdays. Gabby had often joked about me being a workaholic, but now a professional in mental health was saying the same thing.
“You think I have PTSD?” I finally asked.
“Possibly, a mild form of it. Either way, I’d say there’s a lot going on with you that we need to work through. And I haven’t even gotten into your family history yet.”
I heaved out a heavy sigh.
Dr. Winston sat up in her chair, placing her hand on my knee comfortingly. “Chanel, from what you’ve told me so far, you’ve never been in counseling. I’m not here to drudge up everything in your past to make you feel terrible. It’s my job to give you the tools to help you lay down the past, so it no longer haunts your present. It’s not always easy, but trust me when I say it’s worth it.” She finished and sat back in her seat.
“You sound almost like me when I tell my clients to trust me.”
“And what do you tell them when they look at you with suspicion, the way you’re looking at me right now?” She grinned.
“I tell them, there’s no one better at what I do.” And I make them believe it because it’s true.
“And that’s what I say to you. I’ve been doing this a long time. I know what I’m doing.” The leveled look she gave had me believing in her ability. If I was going to do this, I doubted there was anyone else I wanted to do it with. I had to learn to trust somewhere, why not start in Dr. Winston’s office?
“Okay.” I nodded.
“Okay. We’ve got about twenty minutes left in our session. I need you to give me a little background and family history before we finish up.”
Over the next twenty minutes, I gave Dr. Winston the basic information on my family history. Born to upper-middle class, married parents, with a father worked his ass off to cross our family over the gap from middle-class to wealthy. That was the shiny story that looked good in the business and housekeeping magazines my father or mother would sometimes find their way into. Dr. Winston wasn’t fooled, though.
“In our next session, I’m going to ask you more about your relationship with your father and how that’s possibly impacted your romantic relationships.”
I gave her a half-smile. “The good old ‘daddy issues’ trope, huh?”
“Some things become a trope because they’re true. Your father, Elliott Combs, is one of the most successful attorneys in the nation, and yet, you choose to work at a law firm across town from his. You think I wouldn’t pick up on that?”
I let out a laugh. “I think I like you, Dr. Winston.”
“That’s great, ’cause I have a feeling you and I are going to be seeing a lot more of each other. Don’t forget to schedule your next appointment with my receptionist on the way out,” she stated as I rose from the couch.
“Will do.”
Minutes later, I strutted out of Dr. Winston’s outer office with a business card with the time and date for my next appointment the following week in my hand. I had no idea what this would lead to, if anything. But hell, if it helped me to sleep any better at night, then what the heck?