“Whoa, I’m not that type of girl.” I wink at him when I see his cheeks redden. He just shakes his head and mumbles under his breath. “Am I still your favorite patient?”
“I don’t have favorites.”
“Lie to me all you want, just not to yourself. Denial is the first step to delusion. Then you wind up on some couch spilling your guts and paying by the hour for advice.”
“If this a shell of your former self, I’m going to have to say I’m terrified to see you in full force.”
“Fear has no place in life, you should see a colleague about that issue.”
“Okay, I see you have jokes today. Let’s get started.”
“Sure thing. First, one more question.”
“How can I say no?”
“It’s real easy. They taught us in high school. No means no.” I see he is about to shut down my smart-ass remarks, so I hurry. “Are you single?”
“Bianca, that is highly inappropriate. I don’t get involved with my patients.”
“Uh, I think you’re already at the delusional stage. No offense, Doc, but you aren’t my type. You have your shit together; that’s so not my style. And you’re a tad stuffy for me.” I was honestly thinking he’s perfect for Lynsey. His wire-rim glasses give just a hint of nerdy, and the way his hair is disheveled reminds me of frazzled Lyns.
“No, Bianca. I have a girlfriend.” He pauses, looking perplexed.
“Honestly, I wasn’t asking for me. Not interested. Besides you said you weren’t interested in paying for my services, and I don’t give that shit away for free. I do have standards.” He rolls his eyes, and I internally high-five myself for making him lose composure.
“So tell me what you’ve been doing since our last session.”
“I need you to write me a note. A prescription or something to give to my family. They are guarding me like they’re in the Secret Service, and I’m some dignitary. I feel like I’ve evaded a hostile takeover by escaping and driving here by myself. I even got permission to stop at Starbucks on the way home.”
“Bianca, you’re a grown woman and should be able to come and go as you please. You make it seem like you’ve been on house arrest.”
“Exactly. I promise you today is the first day in six fucking months I’ve left on my own. Someone is there when I fall asleep and within an hour of me waking up. Every. Single. Day.”
“I see you haven’t worked on your cussing.”
“No, I owe my nephew a new car so far, so I curb most of it for our therapy sessions.”
“Lucky me.”
“Are you going to write me a note or not?”
“Not. This is where you can exercise your voice. Your wants. Your needs. You, Bianca, have to stand up for yourself, and you have the right to do so.”
“I know, and I kind of did, but immediately felt like shit. My family went through hell that night, and I don’t want to hurt them.”
“I’m sure they were worried, but what about what you went through? Don’t you think you have a right to own what you faced? This isn’t about one being right and one being wrong. It’s learning to vocalize what you’re feeling, accepting not everyone will be happy, and working on a resolution. Ultimately, you are in control of your life, and the only person you have to answer to is you. I can’t tell you not to take their feelings into consideration, but don’t let it outweigh your feelings and desires. It’s your life, Bianca. Own it.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“It is. This is one of the simplest things you’ll have to do. Your family loves you, and even if they don’t agree, they aren’t going to turn their backs on you. You have a support system, use it if you need to, but don’t be afraid to stand on your own. All they want is for you to heal, and the way to prove to them you are is by showing them. There will likely be arguments and hurt feelings but nothing that time and trust won’t fix.”
“Okay. I’ll try to be more assertive.”
“Assertiveness isn’t the problem. You’re able to express your opinions, champion for others, and put many in their place, but you do that as a weapon of sorts, and you don’t use your power when it matters.”
“I think I’m very selfish when needed.”
“To your needs, maybe. But when it really matters you’ve shown selfless behavior and almost become a martyr.”
“I’m not falling on my own sword, Doc. Let’s not go overboard.”
He inhales deeply and exhales loudly. His frustration is apparent, but this time it doesn’t make me feel good . . . it makes me feel like I’m failing at this therapy shit. “I meant in a sense. Consider your wants, your desires as a sword. You’re willing to bury them so deep that they never escape. You’re willing to sacrifice what you want for someone else’s needs, so in a sense, falling on your sword. It isn’t healthy the way you put others’ well-being above your own. It leads to destructive behavior and physical, as well as mental, illnesses further down the line.”
“So how do I fix this?”
“We’re working on that, but you’ve got to want to change it. I’m here to listen, give you the tools, but you have to implement them. It’s a process, Bianca. It’s not going to happen overnight.”
“These sessions keep getting better and better. I thought I was supposed to come sit here for an hour, pour my heart out, and you tell me what to do.”
“No, you didn’t. You knew you needed help and it would be work, which is why the majority of the hour you’re here is filled with bantering, defensive verbiage, coping mechanisms - so you can avoid the issues.”
“Maybe you didn’t buy your degree from the Internet, after all.”
“I can assure you I didn’t,” he actually chuckles at me. “But I’m glad to know you think so. So now that you’ve effectively wasted almost half the time we have, let’s talk about the subject you try to avoid.”
“I don’t think I’m ready.”
“You are. I’ll never ask you to do something I don’t feel you can handle. Therapy needs to be challenging, otherwise it’s just conversing.”
“He used to tell me stuff like that.” My voice barely a whisper, emotion clogs my throat. I tighten my hands into fists, wishing the nails I cut off would miraculously grow and dig into my skin. Just a hint of pain . . . it’s useless. I avert my gaze to the picture hanging on the wall next to me; a beach scene, it’s tranquil, placed there to emit serenity, but it’s not working today. Plastering on a fake smile, I turn my eyes to him and feel like the walls are closing in around me.
“Who used to say that to you?”
“Oh, Doc, we going to play it like that? Heath. Heath used to tell me he’d never ask for more than I could give, never push me beyond what I was comfortable with. But it was lies. It’s all lies.”
“He pushed you? Demanded more of yourself than you were willing to give?”
“NO! He fucking took it without knowing it. He burrowed so deeply inside of me that losing him was something I have no comparison for. I want to blame him for so much, but it was me. I tried to act like he wasn’t as important to me as I was to him, that it wouldn’t hurt as bad when someone left me, again.”
“Do you think he would have left?”
“He did.”
“Tell me about that night. What led to him leaving?”
“We were in Turks and Caicos, and my brother invited Dakota. It was a stupid memory. I allowed myself to dream up a connection to Dakota while I was dancing with Heath. I tried to take him back to the room and seduce him. He called me on my shit and left.”
“You make it sound like it was simple.”
“It was anything but simple. I destroyed his faith in me. I made our relationship insignificant. I took the meaning out of what he felt. I watched his eyes go from lust to devastation in a matter of minutes, and I did nothing to deny the thoughts I had just instilled in him.”
“Was he wrong?”
“So wrong. That night I realized there was not a connection between Dakota and
I . . . it was only in my mind. One I was forcing so I could hide behind it. I looked at him and couldn’t get over the betrayal. The fear I felt. Sitting next to Heath, him being my rock, I knew I loved him. Felt it in every inch of my body, but I couldn’t allow him to know it. I couldn’t give him that control, the upper hand. I barely survived Dakota; I knew I’d never survive Heath.”
“Why is that?”
“Because as much as I thought I loved Dakota, it paled in comparison to how I felt about Heath. It’s different. Hard to explain.”
“Try. You may be surprised at the clarity it brings.”
“Dakota was my first love, and I won’t deny that. I had no clue what love was outside of friends and family, so the unfamiliarity of it was unsettling. I fought it, didn’t trust it, and was in a messed-up place in my life, struggling with my dad’s choices. I ran to it and ran from it at the same time. It created the illusion of standing still, never moving forward, and each time we’d cross the line and creep a step toward our future, something else would happen and send us back to the start. I don’t want to diminish what Dakota and I had because I learned a lot from it. No matter what’s been said or done, he will always hold a place in my heart. Heath understood that. He told me he knew Dakota would always hold a place, and he was okay with that as long as the rest was his. Again, he said no pressure. But I never ran from Heath; I went through the motions of acting like I was shielding myself, but he never made me feel like I had to. I felt settled but exhilarated with him. The butterflies and excitement never wavered. The calmness that flowed through me each time I was with him was still strong. It was everlasting, and I believed in it, but somehow I managed to reject it simultaneously. See, I’m fucked up.”
“No, Bianca, you aren’t. You’re human. So what does all of that tell you?”
“I fucked up. I let him go of him instead of letting him in. But he was in; I just never let him know it. I allowed him to believe the worst because it was easier than admitting the opposite. That I love him.”
“You can tell him whenever you’re ready. I’m not telling you that will fix everything or you will end up together, but it will help you move forward.”
“What if it’s not that easy?”
“What if it is?” Touché, Doc.
Chapter Ten
Dakota
Work.
Sleep.
Repeat.
That’s what I’ve done for six months since leaving my home, my friends . . . my heart. Each day gets easier, and that doesn’t sit right with me. It should be harder to be gone each day, and I feel guilty for mending when I exacted so much misery. The fact that a certain neighbor is helping alleviate some of my guilt doesn’t make it better. Lisa has turned out to be . . . unexpected. After dancing around each other for a few weeks, learning a lot about her from the paper-thin walls we share was amusing to say the least; I’ve come to crave Thursday Wine Nights with her and Maura. They’re enlightening and show me a different side of Lisa than I get from our occasional chats and shared meals. All platonic.
I raise my hand to knock, but the door opens before my fist makes contact. Maura is peering at me with her signature smirk that seems to be constantly on show when I’m in her presence. “You’re not the pizza delivery guy,” she states.
“Uh, not the last time I checked.”
“Hell, if you were it would be like every cheesy porno flick come to life. I’d let you give me your sausage any day of the week.”
“Maura!” Lisa comes flying from the other room, her cheeks flaming. Her comments don’t bother me in the least; it’s kind of amusing and makes me think of Bianca. My heart doesn’t seize when I think of her this time. Progress.
“I’m not here delivering pizza . . . or anything else, just stopping by to see my neighbor and ask her if she wants to have dinner with me tomorrow night?” That took some balls on my part. I debated whether I was ready to leave my past behind me, and if I was willing to start something, anything really, with someone else, but something drew me to this girl. She has charmed me. We’ve done the quick take-out here and there, but nothing as intimate as a Friday night dinner. A date.
I still don’t have answers. I don’t know if I can leave my past in Miami. Buried and closed. I don’t think Bianca or the love I feel for her is something I will ever be truly ready to forget, but I haven’t heard from her in six months, and even with Bronson updating me, I feel the connection severing. It was once a connection I relied on, strived for, and nourished the best way I knew how. When she’s ready to reach out, I’ll be here, and we can take it from there. I watch Lisa’s eyes grow in shock, and I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. I don’t want to hurt another person, but she intrigues me.
“She says yes,” Maura answers.
“She hasn’t said anything, Maura.” I pointedly look at Lisa and allow her to accept or decline.
“Why?” She slaps her hand to her mouth.
“What she meant is ‘why that’s perfect, be here to pick me up at seven.’” Maura again.
I squeeze my lips closed to prevent the laughter. “Lisa?”
“Oh. Um. Sure. Seven. That’s good.”
“Have a nice night, ladies.” I wink at them before heading next door.
“You could have made it better reenacting the scene running through my head.”
“Maura, shut the fuck up.” That dirty word sent a jolt to my cock and made my heart rate accelerate. It’s the most aggressive thing I’ve heard from her mouth.
I shut my door before grabbing a beer from the fridge. Three. Two. One. “Maura, what the fuck is your problem?”
I love these walls. “I don’t have a problem. You, on the other hand, acted like you have gone completely Helen Keller in a matter of ten seconds. You’ve crushed on him for months, had meals, moaned to me how hot he is and all the things you want to do to him. He finally asks you out, and suddenly you can’t speak.”
What does she want to do with me? “First, I’m not crushing on him, lusting maybe, but I don’t know enough about him to have a formative opinion, so it definitely is not crushing.”
“Lisa, quit with textbook jargon. Lust. Crush. Whatever. Hey, did you hear that? I just rhymed.”
“Congratulations Mother-fucking-Goose. Second, I have never told you anything I want to do with him, that’s been your running commentary.”
“Only because you’re too much of a novice. That pink rabbit you have stashed in your nightstand doesn’t talk dirty to you, so I was giving you some pointers. And about that rabbit . . . you went shopping without telling me.”
“You’re insane. Asylum-ready insane! You went through my nightstand?”
“You have that Kama Sutra book, and I have a date Saturday. I wanted to be prepared.”
“No, the hell I don’t have that book. You took it last year for another date.”
“Oh, that explains why I couldn’t find it. So tell me, did you walk into the store like a big girl and buy your new toy on your own?”
“No,” her voice is barely audible, so I stand up and press my ear against the wall. “I ordered it online.”
“Blind shipping? You paid extra for blind fucking shipping didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Lisa, own your orgasms. Demand them. Don’t be ashamed. Did you see that website I sent you last night?”
“The build-a-man? Did you see how expensive they are?”
“No, I don’t need them. Obviously from the size of the rabbit you have you don’t either.” I have to adjust my straining cock and wonder exactly how big vibrators come.
“I haven’t used it.”
“I’m ordering you the build-a-man.”
“Shut up, Maura.”
The knock on the door interrupts their conversation, and I feel like I’ve been overloaded with information. I turn the game on, sit down with my beer, and contemplate what makes her tick. She’s so different from anyone I’ve ever been interested in.
Pure with no
expectations.
Wary of situations . . . like she looks before she leaps.
Sweet with a hint of sassy.
Almost like Bianca and Callie in one person.
At seven, I’m standing in front of her door with flowers and a bottle of wine, acting like a fucking teenager on his first date with sweaty palms and an overactive libido. I take a deep breath and knock. The vision that opens the door makes all the saliva in my mouth dry up. Her hair barely reaches her shoulders. She has it pulled up on one side showcasing the curve between her shoulder and neck. Her face isn’t overly made up but has a natural glow. I lose myself in the depth of her blue eyes, reminding me of a turbulent ocean. She doesn’t reach my chest even in heels that make her short legs extremely sexy. “You look beautiful.” I see the red creeping up her cheeks.
Bellissimo Rilascio (Beautiful Release): The Family Series #3 Page 6