If anything, I’ve avoided him.
I’ve been embarrassed after my confession in the park. I felt weak for not being able to bottle all that shit up and deal with it when I was alone.
I know it changed his opinion of me as well because he’s acted differently since that day, too. His embraces in public have become perfunctory. Since that day in the park, he hasn’t once pressed his nose into my neck like he did that time at the grocery store. He hasn’t reached for me when I pull away.
He’s just different, all business.
“How is he different?”
It takes me a moment to realize she wasn’t inside my head, listening to those thoughts. The last thing I said out loud was Brooks was different.
“He doesn’t kiss my ass.”
She chuckles.
“I didn’t know I needed that. I’d get agitated before when someone didn’t go out of their way to impress me.”
“Do you think that has to do with the lack of nurturing you got as a child?”
I look up at her. “Just diving into the hard stuff today, aren’t we, Doc?”
She gives me a small smile. “We’ll get to it, eventually. I understand if you aren’t ready.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to dive into my mommy and daddy issues,” I mutter, but I know I’ll be thinking about her comments later this evening.
What’s one more fucking thing to keep me up at night?
“He makes you work for your friendship?” she asks, switching gears.
“I don’t even know if we’re friends,” I confess.
“Because he’s paid to be around.”
It isn’t a question, so I don’t answer it like it is one.
“Can’t you just tell me what to do instead of diving so deep into my psyche?”
“Distance yourself from him.”
I snap my eyes up to her.
“I can’t.”
Not any more than I already have, and truthfully, the last month has been brutal. I’m not a man accustomed to not getting what I want, but I’ve also made a pact with myself to stop manipulating people. I refuse to throw more money, or my success, around to get something someone is reluctant to give me.
Brooks isn’t interested in me. He’s made that much very clear. Just because I have an issue with it, doesn’t make it his issue.
“Because you don’t want to or because there’s something else always throwing the two of you together?”
“My dog hates him,” I say, rather than answering her question. “But he brings her treats. I think she’s smart enough to keep growling at him because she knows if she does that the treats will get better.”
Dr. Kent doesn’t sigh or get annoyed when I change the subject, and as I talk about Princess, she doesn’t try to steer me back to my unrequited crush on my bodyguard-slash-boyfriend.
I quickly find myself wanting to talk about Brooks.
“He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before,” I confide.
“Do you think it would be a positive thing if this man noticed you in the way that you want?”
I think on that for a minute.
“Or are you wanting his attention because of your self-destructive tendencies?”
“Ouch,” I mutter, but she has a really good point. “My parents wouldn’t like it.”
“Does that even matter?”
I stare at her, waiting for her to change directions once again.
“Sometimes parents are biased. They believe they know what’s best for their children and don’t consider that child’s happiness. I think you need to focus on what makes you genuinely happy and not on other’s approval. They aren’t the ones living your life.”
It’s the perfect opening. I could tell her my parents aren’t even in my life. I cut them loose the second I was old enough to legally manage my own money.
“I think it’s a moot point anyway. It’s just a stupid one-sided crush. I’ll get over it.” I take a deep breath. “My new house manager is amazing. She makes the best coffee.”
We never circle back around to my confusing feelings about Brooks, but I’m a little disheartened when the session is over.
“Archer?” she calls out before I can open her office door. “Watch him. Really try to see how he acts around you, how he responds to you. Don’t put your own twist on those interactions. Sometimes taking someone at face value is all it takes to know exactly what they’re thinking.”
I nod at her. “See you next week.”
“Looking forward to it, Mr. Bremen.”
Brooks smiles as he stands from the couch, and I try to do what she says. I do my best not to think that he doesn’t have to grin at me the way he is because there isn’t a soul around to photograph it. I let his warmth sink into me on the walk back to his SUV despite there being a complete absence of paparazzi outside the office.
I listen to his selected radio station on the way home, trying not to analyze how it has transformed from country music on the first day to more and more tolerable choices in recent weeks.