Lucky This Isn't Real

“Okay,” I told her, although her implication that my current path was unhealthy stung a bit.

As I left her office and made my way back down the long hallway, hoping I wouldn’t get lost on my way back out to the parking lot, I wanted to protest that it wasn’t my fault that my ex had cheated on me with my stepsister!

But I did need to heal from it. Obviously, it was still causing me a lot of pain. And I liked Dr. Benoit enough to come back. I was just hoping I wouldn’t need to.

Chapter Six – Maggie

Later that morning, I was feeling better than I had felt in ages, and it wasn’t from any kind of French magic that had happened in my therapy session with Dr. Benoit. Or at least, it wasn’t only from that, and it probably wasn’t mostly from that.

I actually started whistling “When Irish Eyes are Smiling.” I’d asked Alexa to play some old-time Irish music, and I listened to it on the way into work.

There was a definite spring in my step, my Doc Martens, the tops hidden under the legs of my suit pants, barely touching the ground. It would have been quite fair to say that I was finally having a good day for the first time in ages, and it showed.

That was something I was sure I would be teased about by my coworkers, but I could handle it.

I truly felt better than I had in months. Clearly, meeting Gavin had worked wonders on my mental health as well.

“What are you so happy about?” Darcy asked, as I sat at my desk across from her at the office.

I suddenly felt bad for neglecting to inform Dr. Benoit about the power of friendship that had helped me out in the past six months. But not bad enough to ruin the great mood I was in.

“I think I met someone,” I nearly sang.

Her eyes widened.

“Really? When? Last Night?”

“This morning!”

“What? Before work?”

“Yeah, that’s why I was late. It was amazing. Like something out of a fairytale.”

“Sounds more like a RomCom. Where did you meet him?”

“In the waiting room, of all places.”

“Oh yeah. The therapist appointment,” Darcy said, remembering our past conversations about how scared I had been to go to a therapist for the first time.

Ironically, that part had turned out to be a piece of cake compared to seeing my ex and stepsister in the lobby beforehand.

“Yeah, but that wasn’t even the most interesting part…”

I started to rush out a bunch of words all at once in an attempt to describe my crazy morning, telling Darcy everything from Raquel and Kenny’s upcoming nuptials to my make-believe wedding in Big Sur.

She grinned at my happiness.

“Your tongue gets very loose when you’re in love.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling my cheeks get warm. “I mean, come on. I just met him. I wouldn’t call it more than a silly crush.”

She tapped a fingertip against her lip.

“So, you met at the therapist’s office? Both of you were seeing a shrink? That’s the perfect opening to a modern-day romance story if I ever heard one.”

“Not exactly. It was one of those all-in-one office buildings. He could have been there for any number of reasons. I was called in before he was, so I never got to find out why he was there.”

“So, what’s he like? Bangable?”

“Darcy!” I said, feeling my cheeks burn.

“Oh, he is, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, okay, he’s very hot. We’re going to Raquel and Kenny’s engagement party together.”

“Oh, do you really think that’s a good idea? Flirting in a public place is one thing but, like…” She made a face. “What if he’s a serial killer? You don’t know anything about him.”

“I will soon.”

I typed Gavin’s name into Google, suddenly driven to disprove her skepticism. The first thing that popped up was an IMDB link. Interesting— he was an actor. I clicked on the page and handed my phone to Darcy.

“Holy sex bomb, Batman!”

Darcy fanned her hand in front of her face, her tortoise-shell glasses almost actually steaming up.

She liked to come off as pretty nerdy, but she was actually sexy under it all. She had shown me some glamour shots from when she had been a model. I suspected that her current style was at least partly a deterrent to the attention that she had no doubt always received in the past, not all of which was welcome.

“I know, right?” I beamed, feeling like the cat who’d gotten into an entire bowl of cream. “He really helped me out of a horrible situation. He was a perfect gentleman.”

“Seems like a keeper and not a serial killer,” Darcy said, handing the phone back.

I wasn’t quite sure I had him yet, but he was pretty insistent on getting my phone number, and I was pretty sure I’d seen him glance, very subtly, at my chest, which, even though it was a bit difficult to miss, made me think that he might want me, too.