“Bless your mom for teaching you how to bake. These chocolate chip cookies are better than the ones from the night we met.”
She gently pats my cheek and quirks her lips. “I love how you react to my baking. If I made something nasty, would you ever tell me?”
I gobble down the rest of the gooey, fresh-from-the-oven cookie and grab another one. “Hell no. I’ll pretend to love it and go to my grave with that information.”
She chuckles and it’s a sight to behold. She’s come a long way this last week. She was downright depressed when we got to her Monday morning—though I will never use that word until she acknowledges it herself—and now she’s mostly back to her normal, loving, and beautiful self. But knowing what I know now—I know what lingers deep down. She has a dark place she retreats to, a place she needs to talk about more, and we’re going to make sure she does.
Tomorrow we go back into work together to start a new week, but tonight, Marco and I want to make our voices heard loud and clear.
We both hear the door open and look over to see Marco walk through Cora’s entryway with a backpack slung over his shoulders. He went back to our place for a couple hours to meet some at-home clients. “Honeys, I’m home.” George darts for him and dances around his feet, begging for attention.
Oh yeah, George is Marco’s cat now. She tolerates me and gives Cora attention when she needs it, but Marco? He’s like catnip to her.
He takes off his coat and bag and picks up George so she can snuggle into his black t-shirt-covered chest. “And hello to you, too, Georgie.” He kisses her on the head and starts towards us as we stand in the kitchen. Speaking softly to his gray fur baby, he asks, “Did you take care of Mama and Dada while I was away?”
He leans in to give Cora a big, lingering kiss. She smiles up at him and rolls her eyes. “She mostly perched on the windowsill and watched for you to come home.”
He chuckles and then gives me the same smooth kiss while George purrs loudly between us. “Mm, you two taste good. I see you made treats.”
Cora bites her bottom lip and gives him a demur look. “I was hoping they would be a little aftercare snack?”
Oooh, this sly woman.
We haven’t done anything more than cuddle and kiss this whole week. She’s been grieving and we’ve wanted to give her the time and a safe place to do it—much to the chagrin of Marco’s cry boners.
He leans his tall frame against the white countertop, his hands buried in gray fur. He takes a long moment to study her. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
She takes a step and leans into me, wrapping her arms around my waist and tucking her head into my chest. Looking across to Marco, she says, “Honestly, what I need is a distraction. I’m feeling better, but I want to shut my brain off for a little bit.”
He transfers his stare from her to me and raises an eyebrow.
I know what he’s silently asking.
Clearing my throat, I tell her, “Let’s have a seat and talk first.”
I lead her to the front sitting room’s luxurious white couch and have her sit between us. Bending one knee in, I turn to face her and take her hand. My heart is racing, but we have to ask her.
With a slow and gentle cadence, I tell her, “We’ve been talking, and we think it would be a wise decision for you to seek professional help. Someone you can talk to about Violet. About what happened to you. About everything. I want to make it clear, this is completely your decision, but we can only help you so much, baby.”
George breaks free from Marco’s hold and pads to Cora’s lap, nudging her head under her other arm and settling in.
Marco inches a little closer and puts his arm around Cora, her back slightly turned into his chest. He brushes his thumbs over her pink sweater-covered arm and murmurs into her hair, “As much as I want to be the one to take all your burdens away, sweetheart, this is too big. Too important.”
Cora closes her eyes to inhale and exhale slowly. “I know.” She leans her head into Marco’s shoulder and looks at me with those emerald green eyes I adore. “There’s already so much on my plate. I don’t know how I’m going to find the time.”
“Well…” I say sheepishly and turn around to grab my laptop bag from the floor beside the couch and bring it around. Taking it out and opening it, I continue. “I’m hoping you see this effort as thoughtful and not pushy, but I’ve already found a few therapists who can help and have availability this week.” I point to my computer screen and show her. “All of them are women, are in our benefits network, are accepting new patients, and specialize in loss of a child and pregnancy.”
Her mouth drops as she blinks at the list of doctors and credentials. “When did you do this?”
“Wednesday. It was a longer list, but I asked Angie to look it over and verify since she’s in the counseling field. These were her top three picks after vetting them.” I grimace, “I hope you’re not mad I asked her to help. I just wanted to make it easy for you and make sure you had the best.”
She huffs out a small breath and then smiles.
Smiles.
And I sag in relief.
“Oh my god, this is actually really helpful. I don’t know why, but the idea of doing all this leg work myself would have felt like an impossible hill to climb.” She shakes her head in disbelief.
