“I will force my way into your room, throw clothes onto your body, carry you out here like a fireman, and strap your butt in a chair.”
Twenty-Four
“Let’stalk about what you like about one another,” Dr. Marsha Tregear says. Her tone is soft and soothing, and it might be giving me hives. Now I get to lie to this nice woman too. “Stella, why don’t you go first.”
My jaw clenches and I drop my eyes, glaring at my real, actual pants. Boo.
Roman sets a hand on my knee.
“I love when my husband is overly pushy about counseling. Nothing spices up date night like talking to a therapist.” Well, shoot. There’s nothing nice about that sentence.
This time, it really is Roman’s fault.
“I’ll go,” Roman says, and he is one brave man keeping that hand on my knee. “When Stella was a kid, she always got up early on school days and made a pot of coffee for her parents.”
My breath hitches and my cheeks burn. How did he know about that? I lift my shoulder in a small shrug. “I did it once, and Mom mentioned how much she loved waking up to the smell.”
Dr. Tregear smiles at Roman like he is her A+ student. And I guess he is. He sounded so sincere just now.
I let out a trembling breath and clench my jaw. “I always loved that even though Roman was by far the best player on our high school team, he’d still pass the ball. He was a team player. He didn’t hog it like?—”
At the same time, Roman and I say, “Cody Rawlings.”
I laugh and Roman snickers beside me.
“You two have a lot of history,” Dr. Tregear says. She offers me a small approving look. It’s possible I’ve bumped myself up to a B-minus student.
“We do,” Roman says. “We grew up together. Stella was always special to me.”
I was? I nibble on my lip—this isn’t for Dr. Tregear’s grading system. It’s just a thought that comes. “I felt seen whenever my brother and Roman would go out. Roman always said hello to me. He didn’t treat me like a kid. And he asked about my plans. None of Brice’s other friends did that.”
“Did you ever get an invite?” Dr. Tregear asks, and I might be getting a B+ now.
“She was fifteen. We were eighteen,” Roman says, glancing from the computer screen to me. “So, no. Brice would have killed me.”
My heart thumps.Brice.
“And what does Brice think now that you’re together?” Dr. Tregear watches us through Roman’s laptop screen, grading our every move. At least, I feel graded.
Roman isn’t quick to answer this one though.
“Brice passed away just after he and Roman graduated,” I say.
“Oh.” Her forehead wrinkles. “I’m sorry.” Her head tiltsto the side like she’s examining us. She scribbles something on her notepad before asking, “Do you think he’s part of what threw you together?”
“Maybe,” I say.
But Roman shakes his head. “No.”
“Okay then, we’ve talked about the past. What about the present? What do you admire now?”
Roman and I are clams tightly shut. The present is so much more complicated.
She lifts her brows, and it’s possible even Roman has lost his straight A score. “Then, let’s talk about what’s bothering you. What are some of the issues the two of you seem to be having?”
“Communication,” Roman says, his answer so eager I want to smack him.
I scoff. “Well, he won’t stop with the questions. They are constant. We get hitched, and the man thinks he needs to know every single tiny thing about me. Isn’t there something special to a little mystery?” I scoot one inch away from Roman and cross my arms.
