Chapter11
Amelia
Thomas Lyle and his wife Anne arrive at their appointment Monday morning right on time. My mood is bubbly and energetic as I get ready to take on my day, especially after my more than pleasurable weekend.
Ethan left my house around three in the morning Saturday and then texted me last night, thanking me for our time together. His communication was unexpected, but ultimately it gave me another bout of hope that this thing between us could become more. And especially after having sex, I know our chemistry is too strong to let this be just casual.
I have never felt this way about a man, the type of connection that is overwhelming in multiple facets. And even though my feelings for him were not of the favorable kind in the beginning, the more I get to know him, the more I appreciate every side of him that he shows me. He’s commanding and private but passionate and intense. But he’s also hard to read, so I’m hoping with time, I’ll be able to get a better feeling of where his mind is because I’m pretty sure I already know what his body is telling me.
You could just ask him, Amelia. That’s what you would advise your clients to do.
I know, but I also don’t want to scare him. What if I say something that has him running?
Then he doesn’t deserve you.
I know you’re right, subconscious, but since when does a woman actually listen to that voice in her head when it comes to a guy? No, she’s got to second-guess every interaction and conversation until she’s blue in the face.
“Good morning, you two.” I hold the door open for my brand-new clients, pushing thoughts of Ethan to the recesses of my mind so that I can focus on my job until lunch.
“Good morning,” Anne greets me with a soft shake of her hand.
“This office looks like the inside of a house,” Mr. Lyle admonishes as he scopes out the room.
I shut the door behind him and walk further inside toward my desk. “I wanted it to feel welcoming since many people can have reservations about therapy.”
He scoffs. “It’s a bunch of nonsense, is what it is. Anne and I are fine, but she insisted this is something we need.”
I’m beginning to think he’s the one that needs it, but I don’t say that out loud.
Anne looks over at me with an apologetic smile. At least she’s aware of who she’s married to.
“Attending therapy doesn’t have to mean something is wrong. Sometimes it can just be preventive, like exercise. A lot of people exercise every day so their bodies remain strong and to reap the long-term health benefits instead of waiting until their doctor tells them they have to lose weight or move more.”
All I get is a huff in return as his eyes land on me and begin to drift over my body. But when they land on my left hand, his eyebrows pop up. “Are you not married?”
“Uh, no. I’m not.” I lift my left hand, waving my fingers in the air.
“Jesus, Anne. You really booked us an appointment with a marriage counselor that’s not even married?” He turns to me, his face much angrier than before. “How the hell are you even supposed to offer any advice when you haven’t been married yourself?” The venom in his voice is enough to make me retreat as I question his concern. “How old are you?”
I mean, the man has a point, but it’s not something I’ve ever had a client blatantly ask before.
I don’t entertain answering his questions before I speak. “With all due respect, I don’t need to be married in order to counsel couples, and my age has nothing to do with my level of experience either. Relationships, both romantic and platonic, have many similarities, and yet, every couple is unique as well. So, my expertise lies in helping couples communicate, and you don’t have to be married in order to do that. Now, if you’d like to begin, I can show you back to the room where I conduct my sessions. But if you feel uncomfortable with my personal relationship status, the door is right behind you.”
“Wow. You have a lot of nerve telling me I can leave.”
“No, I don’t. This is my business, and I don’t have to tolerate your lack of decorum.”
“Thomas, please stop,” Anne pleads, reaching for her husband’s arm as he bats it away.
“No. I’m not going to stay here and listen to this woman tell me how to be a husband when she doesn’t even have one of her own. We’re leaving.” He spins on his heel and heads for the door, pausing as he looks back to see if Anne will follow him. “Get over here, Anne.”
She shoots me a sympathetic and almost pleading look and then marches over to him, walking through the door as he follows her. “This was a waste of time,” he says as the door slams behind him, leaving me standing in place, wondering what on earth just happened.
I shake off the shock and then take a seat at my desk, staring off into space as I go over the last five minutes. I’ve never had a client react like that, but more importantly, I’ve never felt the need to go after one either. The look on Anne’s face was so indicative of the type of marriage she’s in—fearful, controlling, and demeaning. No wonder she was seeking counseling.
I make a note to call her later and follow-up with her, perhaps ask her to come in alone. But until then, there’s nothing I can do but wait for my next client to arrive and hope the day doesn’t progressively get worse.
* * *
“Hey, beautiful.”
My head pops up from the paperwork I’m filling out on my desk as Ethan walks through the door. He seems just as happy as I did earlier before seeing his smile fall as he reads my face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I close the folder on my desk and drop my pen down.
“Bullshit. It’s like the light is gone from your eyes.” I should be swooning at a statement like that from his lips, but all it does is remind me how much I let Mr. Lyle’s words get to me this morning.
“I just had a rough morning.”
“What happened?” He walks into the room and takes a seat in one of the chairs on the other side of my desk.
I blow out a harsh breath. “I had a new couple come in this morning, and the husband was less than polite.”
Ethan sits up taller in his seat. “He didn’t touch you, did he?” Again, with the protectiveness. Ugh, he’s something else.
“No. Just disrespectful. Told me I had no business counseling married couples since I’m not married myself.”
“Wow.” Ethan runs his hand through his hair. “What a fucking prick. I’m sorry, Amelia.” I shrug but look away from him, fighting back my tears. “You don’t believe him, do you?”
“I mean, he has a point.”
“Bullshit.”
“Look, you don’t have to do this, Ethan. You don’t have to pretend to care about my job, especially since I know how you feel about it.”
He stands from his chair and circles my desk, crouching down in front of me and grasping my hands in his. “How I feel about marriage has nothing to do with the fact that I can tell this man struck a chord with you, Amelia. And I hate to see you doubting yourself.” He tips my chin up with his fingers, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “And trust me, even if someone were married, that doesn’t mean they know anything about what it takes to make a marriage work. But you have helped hundreds of people, your success speaks volumes, and your credentials certainly outweigh his microscopic penis-sized opinion, okay?”
Moisture builds in my eyes as I stare at him. I know he doesn’t believe that every relationship can be saved, but he’s putting aside his own opinions to try and make me feel better. And I believe the words he’s saying—he sees how passionate I am about my job, which just makes me fall even harder for him.
How can he not want more with me? And then the question lingering on my mind comes out before I can stop it.
“Ethan…what are we doing? You coming over here and saying something like that to me is far more involved than us just being fuck buddies.”
His face contorts with uncertainty as he releases my chin and stands, turning his back to me. And my stomach drops instantly, regret filling me from saying anything. Apparently, it wasn’t the right time, and now I can’t take it back.
“Amelia…”