I look away and rub my face. “What do you want me to say? That I still sometimes think about it?”
“And she knows that?”
Silence.
Darren exhales sharply. “Logan, you can’t let her think you’re fine if you’re not. That’s cruel.”
“We are fine,” I repeat, but it sounds thinner this time.
“You’re not fine,” he says flatly.
I don’t answer.
He leans forward. “If you’re going to stay or let her stay, don’t blow up in six months because you swallowed it today.”
I glare at him. “What do you want me to do?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Last year you bitched and moaned about her refusing to go to therapy. Now you’re doing the exact same thing.”
“Oh, come on,” I scoff. “Therapy is just sitting on a stranger’s couch and throwing money at them. I’d rather go to a strip club.”
He blinks at me. “Like you’ve ever been to a strip club.”
“You threw my bachelor party,” I remind him.
A slow grin spreads across his face. “Oh yeah. That was a good day.”
I level him with a look. “You have a daughter now.”
The grin drops immediately. He grimaces. “Why would you say that?”
I shrug.
He points at me. “You’re deflecting.”
“I’m not deflecting.”
“You are. You’re making jokes because you don’t want to admit you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Right,” he says dryly. “You just decided therapy is a scam the second it required you to look at yourself.”
I don’t answer, because he’s starting to make sense.
Darren exhales and rubs a hand over his face. “Man, I haven’t slept in like thirty hours, so I’m going home. But if you don’t want to be back in this office in six months or tomorrow, crying about your feelings again, then just… do it.”
I just grunt in answer.
“Who could it hurt?” he adds.
I make a face at him as he rolls toward the door.
Just when I think this crap is settled, someone opens their mouth and forces me to listen.
“FML,” I mutter to myself, staring at the closed door.
Jess
