“Which is why I cannot fuck it up.” Walking over to collect my things, I get an idea. “Maybe if I got my own place. I’ll be able to afford it… Hell, by next week.”
She rearranges her notebook and pen getting ready for her next client. “Will he go for that plan? I thought he hired you to be there at night in case she needed you.”
Chewing my lip, I toss my bag over my shoulder. “I guess I’ll have to ask.” I hear the noise of people in the lobby and blow her a kiss. “Thanks, bae. Take it easy and let me know everything that happens with the new baby. How far along are you?”
“Five weeks.”
“So next week we can tell everybody?” I’m excited.
She waves, shaking her head and laughing.
I say hello to Hunter on the way out, and he studies me with that always-serious expression.
“You look really happy today.” His eyes move around my face, and I await some comparison to Martha Mitchell or Dorothy Hunt. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be a therapist.”
Nodding, I pat his arm. “Or maybe I should be a different kind of therapist.”
“There are five broad approaches to psychotherapy—”
Drew steps to the door. “Hunter, your appointment has begun.”
He tells me a quick goodbye and starts for her door. Dotty is the clinic receptionist. She shakes her head as Hunter leaves, and I give her a quick wave before heading to the door.
“Let me know if she needs anything or starts looking tired.”
“Something wrong?” She’s frowning, and I do a little zipper motion across my lips.
“You’ll know soon.”
“Miss you around here!”
I don’t want to say Hunter’s right, and I don’t really miss talking to patients. Instead, I give her a squeeze, and I’m on my way to pick up Lillie.
The rest of the week goes pretty much the same. I sneak out with Lillie before everyone’s up, we eat Egg McMuffins, and I get her extra ketchup packets.
“Are eggs bad for me?” Lillie picks at the corner of the cheese slice on her perfectly round poached egg.
“It’s more about how they treat the chickens.” Not that I’m one hundred percent sure the eggs on our breakfast sandwiches are real.
It’s better than Taco Bell, I guess.
“How do they treat the chickens?” Her little brow furrows, and I’m not about to get into the ethics of poultry farming with her.
“Some people prefer getting eggs from chickens who run around farms. They’re called free-range chickens.”
Her little eyebrows go up. “Like inChicken Run? They all made a big airplane out of their cages and flew to a valley.”
I’m not super familiar with that movie, but it sounds good to me. “Sure.”
“I’d like to have a chicken.” She walks her fingers along the ketchup packet, back and forth, squishing the contents as she plays.
First a puppy, now a chicken… It gives me an idea. “Why don’t we plant a little garden in the backyard? You could grow beets and Chinese cabbage and broccoli…”
“I love broccoli!” She jumps out of her chair.
“I heard.” Taking a napkin, I wipe a spot of grease off her cheek. We can’t keep doing this, I know. “When we have a harvest, we could eat our crops at dinner. Or lunch.”
Speaking of dinner, even though I’ve lain pretty low, it hasn’t stopped Remi from giving me hot looks across the table. He’s given me space since that amazing kiss we shared… or I’ve been avoiding him like crazy. Every time he smiles, my skin tingles and my brain says,Oh, shit.
