Blue
Shirley looks up from her computer the second the door clicks behind me. Her pinned gray hair escapes in wisps around her temples like she's permanently surrounded by a comforting halo. She gives me the kind of smile only a loving grandmother can manage. It's warm, steady, and entirely unaware of the storm twisting through my veins. She chirps, "There you are, sweetheart. Let's get your next appointment on the books."
I return a small, controlled smile, the kind that saysI survived something delicate."Oh…yes. My next session."
She taps at the keyboard with slow, practiced strokes. "Dr. Mercer has openings next Tuesday or Thursday. Whichever works better for you."
Thursday? I'm not waiting that long.
I lean my elbows on the counter, keeping my voice airy. "I thought he wanted to see me sooner than next week."
Her eyes lift, gentle kindness wrapped in soft wrinkles. "Oh. He usually has weekly meetings unless he instructs me otherwise."
Scratch that.
Shirley's a pit bull dressed as a granny.
I scrunch my face. "He said he wanted to see me at the end of this week. Can you double-check, please? After all, I um..." I look away and swallow hard.
"Dear?" Shirley asks.
I glance around the empty waiting room, then bite my lip, focusing on her gaze. I slowly lift my sleeve to reveal my arm. I pretend to let shame flood me. "I-I...um..." I look away and let a tear fall, then wipe it quickly.
Sympathy fills her expression. "I see. All right, dear. How does..." She scans the computer screen. "Friday at four? He keeps that open for emergencies."
Friday night with Dr. Mercer.
He'll have no choice but to think about me all weekend.
Giddiness hits me. I contain my expression, nodding. "That works. Thank you."
Shirley prints on an appointment card, slides it toward me with a smile so sincere it almost makes me laugh. She has no idea the world she's ushering me deeper into. No clue she's scheduling the beginning of dismantling her boss piece by piece.
"Thank you," I repeat.
"There's also emergency numbers on the back of his card. Take care now," she replies.
I glance at the hotline and toss her another grateful nod, then I tuck the card into my purse and walk toward the elevator. The soft click of my heels echoes across the polished floor. Each step stretches something inside me until I'm buzzing beneath my skin.
The moment I press the call button and the elevator doors slide open, everything that happened in that office floods back through me.
Red's eyes.
His voice.
How his body went rigid when I leaned closer.
Now the real work begins.
The elevator closes, and I press my shoulder against the wall. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the afterimage of him fill the darkness behind my eyelids.
Dr. Red Mercer is a problem wrapped in discipline. He's a man whose control strains every time I speak. He thinks he hid the twitch in his jaw when I leaned in. He thinks that short pause in his breathing wasn't noticeable. He thinks he still owns the room when I'm in it, but he doesn't.
He let his eyes slip. It was only once. And his voice deepened when I hit a nerve. But the way his attention landed on my legs longer than he intended was the final crack in his composure I needed to see.
The elevator stops on the ground level, and my legs carry me through the lobby with a delicious tremor. A grin threatens to expose the chaos rolling through me.
I can still hear him telling me we would "end here for today," using that steady, even tone he probably practiced in grad school. It's a tone that won't save him. He couldn't hide the tension creeping up his neck, or the way his fingers wrapped around his pen a fraction too tightly.
