‘Yet you’ve referred to him by other nicknames or generalisations …’ Her pen dances over the pages of notes from our session, the impeccable statistics she updates after every meeting, eventually halting. ‘More than fifty times in the past three sessions?’
That takes the wind from my sails. I sink into the comfortable chair I’ve been avoiding. Years spent dealing with my father taught me that sitting in a chair for a discussion is a sign the excrement shall hitteth the fan.
‘That many times?’ I ask meekly.
Doctor Blathe gives me a moment to collect myself as she readjusts her glasses. When she makes eye contact again, I feel better. More prepared to have this conversation. Adult-ish.
‘Is there something about him you find yourself focusing on?’
His fingers clasped around my wrists, pinning my arms over my head. His lips on my neck. Temple to temple, his hot breath against my neck, his low grunts in my ear as his hips piston, driving his cock into me—
‘No,’ I protest, a little too sharply.
Her head tilts. Her pen raises.
‘Yes,’ I correct. ‘He’s hot.’
She nods and the pen lowers. Inky bullet avoided. ‘Anything else?’
I shift uncomfortably. The conversation really shouldn’t be going there. There’s no reason to pick apart my dislike of Jake at this moment.
‘What about his personality?’
When I don’t speak, she presses. ‘Do you both get along?’
Our conversation from this morning replays. We fought. We always fight.
‘You always fight with each other?’
I refocus at her words, frustrated I had said it aloud. ‘We tend to get into heated discussions with each other.’
She reads through my bullshit. ‘What do you mean by fight? Is it the same as the arguments between you and your father?’
My stomach churns. ‘God, no. Jake’s not like that.’
She scribbles something down. I clasp my hands in my lap and try to slow my breathing. Through the window I can see the sun illuminating the white foam across the waves that fling themselves on the beach. The view is one of the main reasons I decided to stick with Doctor Blathe. That, and she’d stood up to my father and told him she wanted to focus on my individual therapy rather than family sessions. It was the most polite fuck off I’ve ever seen an adult give him. Her escorting him to the door gave me an hour of me-time.
My first small step toward freedom.
‘So what do you mean when you say that you and Jake fight?’
I scrunch up my nose, unsure how to explain it. ‘We … banter, you know? He’s always got some comment to throw back at me.’ I stretch my legs out in front of me and look at my red patent heels. ‘Besides, I like pushing his buttons. He’s so …’ Sexy. Determined. Strong. ‘Precise.’
‘Precise.’
‘Total control freak.’
She looks thoughtful. ‘You’re referring to your first meeting with him?’
‘That and other times too. He’s always checking up on Catherine and even me. He has an answer for everything and he never gets angry.’
I don’t wait for her clarifying question. ‘I’m serious. Like, never. He gets intense and everything, but he doesn’t yell.’
‘Does his intensity bother you?’
‘It didn’t the other night.’
I gulp in air, horrified to have said that aloud, and begin choking a little. Doctor Blathe waits for my coughing fit to die down before asking in the most neutral, non-judgemental voice possible, ‘Were you intimate?’