The Fortuity Duet

by Rochelle Paige

  “Can I call and make you an appointment? If I explain the situation, I can probably get you an appointment for after hours today since I’m a former patient.”

  “Will it be too weird for me to use your ex-therapist?”

  “Actually,” she drawled. “I was kind of hoping we could both see her.”

  “Shit, baby. I’m sorry. I hadn’t even—”

  “Stop.” She pressed her fingers against my lips. “What I’m feeling right now pales in comparison to what you’re going through.”

  I nipped at her fingers. “Doesn’t matter. Even at my lowest, I’m always going to want to take care of you.”

  “And that’s one of the things I love most about you. But you better get used to it going both ways because this relationship is a two-way street, babe.”

  I leaned in closer and murmured against her lips, “That’s my tough girl.”

  “Damn straight.”

  “Yeah. Go ahead, baby. Schedule us appointments with the therapist.”

  I was shocked, and a little bit impressed when she was able to get us in at five o’clock that night. We spent the day doing a whole lot of nothing. My dad had let me know in a text message that I shouldn’t worry about missing work because he’d arranged for me to be out on a “special project” when I sent him the text last week. He hadn’t even known what was going on with me at that point other than that Faith and I had an argument, but he’d still covered for me because that’s just how my dad was. He did whatever had to be done to make sure I was protected. He always had, and that was the ironic part of this whole thing since my parents’ desire to protect me was the reason why they’d decided not to tell me the truth five years ago.

  “You okay with this?” Faith asked, pressing her hand against my leg to get it to stop jiggling. We were on the couch in the therapist’s waiting room, and I was nervous as fuck.

  “Yeah.”

  “You sure? Because we can bounce and figure something else out if you don’t want to talk to her. Or I can leave if you’d prefer it was just you.”

  “Stop.” I tilted her chin up and pressed a gentle kiss on her lips, not liking the worry I saw in her pretty eyes. Especially since I wasn’t sure if it was there out of concern for me or was because of a lack of confidence in how I felt about her. “If I’m here, you’re here. That’s how it’s going to be for a while unless I have to be in the office. I don’t care if that sounds needy as fuck, or codependent, or wherever the hell you want to call it. After the shit we just went through, I need you near.”

  “I do too,” she admitted softly.

  I figured she did, and it was part of the reason why sticking close to her was so damn important to me. The way I’d handled the situation had given her doubts. In herself and in us. Now that I’d managed to pull my head out of my ass when it came to our relationship, I was going to fix that for her. Period. End of story. No matter what other shit I had to deal with in my life, Faith came first.

  “And my only experience with therapy didn’t go too good, so it helps that you’re here.”

  “Always,” she promised. “Even though you don’t need to worry. Mrs. Crabtree is nothing like the psychiatrist you saw before.”

  I chuckled at her name, shaking my head. “I still can’t believe your therapist’s name is Crabtree.”

  “Yes, it presents an uphill battle with some patients. I probably should have given it more thought when I agreed to take my husband’s name and use it professionally.”

  I turned towards the door that had been closed ever since the receptionist led us into the waiting room and let us know the therapist would be done with her last appointment soon. A tall woman with black hair liberally streaked with gray and kind, blue eyes stood there. Even though she was dressed nicely in a long skirt and button-up blouse, she didn’t quite fit how I expected a therapist to look. She seemed more the grandmotherly type.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “There’s no need to apologize. You know what they say about eavesdroppers and hearing nothing good about themselves. I’ve certainly heard worse.” She waved off my concern. “But I’ll keep on eavesdropping anyway because it usually gives me an excellent opportunity to get a picture of how people behave when they think they aren’t being observed by a trained professional.”

  She walked towards us, and I stood up when Faith did but awkwardly hung back as they hugged. Faith wasn’t affectionate with many people and seeing her reaction to Mrs. Crabtree helped to alleviate any lingering doubts I had about this being a good idea.

  “And you must be Dillon.” Mrs. Crabtree beamed a smile my way. “I’m sorry you two are going through a difficult time, but I’m so glad to have the chance to meet the guy who put in the effort in to break down Faith’s walls. Even with the short amount of time I talked to her on the phone earlier today and observing you for a couple of minutes, I can already tell you love her very much. I can’t tell you how happy that makes me since Faith is a special girl.”

  Those doubts that had already been wiped away? They were replaced by approval with the way she was talking about Faith. It wasn’t just what she said, either. It was how her eyes and voice softened. I knew she wasn’t just bull-shitting me. She really cared about Faith, and that was all it took for me to feel comfortable. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “So.” She clapped her hands together. “Who wants to talk to me first? Or do you want to come in together at first? You guys are in control of how you want this to go.”

  I turned to Faith. “What do you think, baby?”

  “I’m okay with whatever you decide. I know I didn’t handle everything very well in the beginning”—she lowered her voice and stepped closer to me—“when you were gone. But I swear I’m on top of it now. It’s you I’m worried about. With you at my side, I’m already in a better place. I know I’ll be able to work through my issues and move on from here. But you? You got knocked down really fucking hard by all of this, and I don’t know how you managed to get back up again because this is some heavy shit to deal with.”

  “I got back up because I have you.”

  “And now I’m going to be totally unprofessional and start crying,” Mrs. Crabtree mumbled. I turned to find her dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “I should probably tell you guys that it would be better to speak with each of you in private so you don’t feel the need to police your thoughts out of a desire to protect each other. But I can’t help but observe that it looks like it’d take a crowbar to pry you two apart from each other at the moment.”

  “Probably because it would take more than a crowbar,” I muttered, my hand wrapping around Faith’s and tugging her even closer.

  “Together,” Faith blurted out. “We’d like to start together.”

  “Okay, then let’s do this.” She opened her office door and led us inside. Faith and I sat next to each other on the couch, and Mrs. Crabtree took the chair that was perpendicular to it. When she got settled, she smiled at both of us but settled her gaze on me. “Faith told me a little bit on the phone this morning; about your brother’s death, the transplants, and how you just discovered the truth. I’d like if you could describe it to me from your perspective.”

  "I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

  “Why don’t you start with a happy memory of your brother? And then we can move on from there,” she suggested.

  So that’s what I did. I spent the next hour spilling my guts to Mrs. Crabtree with Faith’s hand clenched in mine. When our time was up, my heart felt a little lighter, but I knew we’d barely made any progress. I wasn’t even sure how she was going to be able to make my world right again. Not with Declan gone. “The person I feel like I need to talk to about this the most is dead. What am I supposed to do about that?”

  “I have a suggestion, but I don’t think you’re ready for it yet. I’ll get you there, though. It’s just going to take some work.” She smiled at us apologetically. “And most of that’s going to need to be one-on-one.”r />
  “Whatever it takes, Doc.” I had to find a way to come to terms with everything that had happened. For myself. For Faith. And for my parents.

  16

  Faith

  “Hey, stranger.”

  I looked up from the magazine I’d been reading in Mrs. Crabtree’s waiting room and found a familiar face I hadn’t seen in a while. My old roommate was standing in front of me.

  “Christine!” I stood and gave her a quick hug. All of Dillon’s public displays of affection must’ve rubbed off on me. That and it was nice to see her after so long. “How’ve you been?”

  “Good.” She paused and looked around the empty room. “Well, maybe not good good since I’m here, but you know what I mean. Things could be, and have been, a hell of a lot worse. So I’ll survive this setback just like I have all the others.”

  “Is it anything I can help you with?”

  “Nah, I’ve got it covered.” She dropped down on the couch and patted the spot where I’d been sitting. “But you can cheer me up by letting me know that things are still going strong between you and your hottie. I don’t think I could handle it if you told me you’re here because the two of you broke up.”

  “We didn’t break up.” I laughed softly, shaking my head. I’d really missed how funny Christine could be. We’d had more than our fair share of crazy conversations in the years we’d lived together, and they were some of my favorite memories from college. “Dillon’s appointment was after mine, so I’m just waiting for him to finish up.”

  “You aren’t broken up, but you’re already at the point where you need couple’s therapy?” She glanced at the door to the therapist’s office. “Or pair’s therapy or whatever it’d be called when you have back-to-back appointments instead of talking shit out together.”

  “Relationship wise, we’re good. We’ve just had some other challenges we needed to deal with.” Her eyes grew huge when I gave her a quick run-down of what’d happened.

  “Whoa. I’ve heard and seen some crazy shit in my life, but that’s a lot even by my standards. Like telenovela level stuff.”

  Back in our junior year, she’d gotten addicted to watching telenovelas when her Spanish professor had suggested it as a way for his students to work on their language skills. It’d just about driven me insane because she had them on practically non-stop, but in the end, her professor had been right. I’d even picked up a fair amount of Spanish, and I’d taken French in high school. And sadly, she was right. What’d happened with Dillon and me was a truth that was even stranger than the craziest fiction.

  “Yeah, you’d think after the shit I’d gone through during my childhood that the universe could cut me a break and let Dillon and I be happy. But nope. That’s not how life works, I guess.”

  “But you said you guys were good, right?”

  “Yeah, things could be better between Dillon and his parents, but I think he’s getting there. It took him about a month before he went back to work for his dad and since school doesn’t start back up for me until next week, it meant we got to spend all that time together. Between that and the work we’ve been doing with Mrs. Crabtree, both alone and together, I think we’re even better than before. We faced our challenges and came out stronger for it in the end.”

  “Maybe the universe does know what it’s doing then,” she sighed. “Even though it’s hard to see when we’re in the thick of things.”

  “Maybe,” I conceded. But I still would’ve preferred to have not had everything thrown at us the way it had been.

  “I miss our middle of the night chats.” She bounced on the cushion. “I know! You guys should get married so I can throw you a bachelorette party. It’d be the perfect excuse for a sleep-over.”

  “Dillon and I don’t need to get married for you to come over and spend the night. We have a spare bedroom, you know.” Or at least it was kind of an extra now that Dillon’s best friend, Corey, had stopped crashing in it off and on.

  “C’mon. Haven’t you ever thought about doing the whole marriage and kids thing with Dillon?”

  Shockingly enough, I had. That’s how much I loved him. Enough to get past my fear of abandonment and consider a future that included being his wife and having his children. “Yeah, I have.”

  “And judging by that dreamy look on your face, I’m expecting to get a call in the near future telling me you’re engaged and want me to be the maid of honor. If I know your hottie at all, he’s dying to put a huge rock on your finger to warn off other guys.”

  “If we get married, will you stop calling him my hottie?”

  “Nope. Never.” Her eyes lit up when she looked towards the door. “‘Cause that’s exactly what he is. Hot and yours.” Then she stood up and walked over to Dillon to give him a hug. “Long time, no see. We all need to do a better job of not being strangers.”

  “Yeah.” Dillon flashed her a grin, and any tension I’d felt about how his appointment had gone, or if he’d overheard my conversation with Christine, disappeared. He looked happy, and it was exactly how I liked him to be. “We need to have you over for dinner or something. Maybe throw a party before classes start up again for Faith.”

  “Oooh! A party! Yes, that!” Christine clapped her hands together. Mrs. Crabtree came up behind Dillon and cleared her throat, causing Christine’s excitement to dim. “Like a perfectly innocent dinner party, since we’re all adults now and don’t party like we’re in college anymore.”

  I wasn’t sure what that was all about, but I didn’t get the chance to ask. Christine waved goodbye before she stepped into Mrs. Crabtree’s office and shut the door behind her.

  Dillon quickly took her place at my side. “I wasn’t expecting to see Christine here.”

  “Neither was I, but it makes sense I guess. Sarah was her caseworker too, so she probably recommended Christine talk to Mrs. Crabtree at some point in time.”

  “Smart choice. I wish everybody had a Mrs. Crabtree in their life.” He led me to the elevator with his hand at the small of my back. “Now that I think of it, I should pass her card along to Corey. I bet she could help him deal with the shit that happened with his parents. I probably should’ve done it weeks ago.”

  “Cut yourself some slack. It’s not like you haven’t been a good friend to him. And you’ve been dealing with your own problems.”

  “True,” he conceded. “But I feel like I’m through the worst of it now. I’m finally coming to terms with the accident, my survivor’s guilt, and the decisions my parents made.”

  “Does that mean today’s the day?” I asked after we were in the SUV and pulling out of the parking garage.

  “Yeah, I think it is.”

  I hadn’t been sure what to think when Dillon had told me Mrs. Crabtree’s suggestion a couple of weeks ago. She thought it would be beneficial to his progress if he visited Declan’s graveside and talked through everything with his twin. Dillon had been skeptical at first too—which was understandable since Declan was dead. It would be a one-sided conversation in a cemetery. It seemed way out there to me, but eventually, Dillon had come around to Mrs. Crabtree’s way of thinking and said it might help. So I’d gotten one-hundred percent behind the idea, too. Which meant that when we parked on the winding road that ran through the cemetery and Dillon froze, I needed to help him through this.

  “I’m not sure this is such a great idea,” he murmured, staring out the window of his SUV towards the row of headstones and statues where Declan was buried.

  I reached over and grabbed his hand, tugging until he turned towards me. “You were sure before we got here. It’s just the nerves talking. Ignore them, get out of the car, and go tell Declan whatever it is you feel you need to say to him.”

  “You’re not going to let me get out of this, are you?”

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  “I just had to fall for a tough girl,” he sighed before climbing out of the car. It hadn’t taken much prodding on my part, so I knew I’d done the right thing. He waited f
or me to get out and kept his hand on my lower back as we walked about fifty feet in before he stopped.

  “This is it.”

  My eyes filled with tears when I looked down at Declan’s grave and saw the bouquet resting on it. “Those flowers look fresh.”

  “Yeah, my mom comes once a week to tend to the grave. She makes sure everything looks okay, sits for a while, and brings a new bouquet each time.” He moved the flowers to the side a little and ran his fingers over the words and numbers engraved into the stone marker. “I never asked why they didn’t include his date of birth and death, only the years. I don’t think I ever even really noticed it until now.”

  “That’s understandable. You were grieving, honey.”

  “My mom comes weekly. My dad at least once a month. But me? This is only my third time here. I came right after I was discharged from the hospital, and then again the first night I went to an underground poker game. But it was too hard to be here and know he was in the ground while I was walking around.”

  “And now?”

  “It isn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. It still hurts like a motherfucker, but I’m not struggling with the guilt like I was back then.” He reached up and stroked my cheek. “Even knowing everything, I’m handling it better. Because of you.”

  “Not just because of me,” I disagreed. “You’re the one who put the work in. Talked to Mrs. Crabtree, and did what needed to be done to come to terms with something that would’ve destroyed most people.”

  “But I’m not most people.” He brushed his lips softly against mine. “I’m the man you love.”

  I felt the tears as they slid down my cheeks. “That you are.”

  “I just wish Declan could’ve met you. Even if only once.”

  “How about you introduce me now, and then I’ll leave you to say what needs to be said in private?”

  It must have been the right thing to offer because Dillon gave me a grateful smile before turning towards the headstone once again.