That’s what I get for only holding onto one friendship.
For a split second, I consider finding a lawyer.
The thought makes my stomach twist.
No. I’m not there yet.
Logan is just angry. Shocked. Once that wears off, he’ll calm down. We’ll talk.
I mean… I forgave him, so-
I wince at my own thoughts.
Wow. Even in my head that sounds self-centered.
Instead of driving aimlessly, I turn in a completely different direction.
Thirty minutes later, I’m sitting in the parking lot of Orange Cove Therapy Center with the engine still idling.
Biting my lip, I wonder what the hell I’m even doing here.
I didn’t want therapy when Logan practically begged me last year. I barely made it through two full marriage counseling sessions before deciding we were “fine.”
Now here I am, sitting outside a therapist’s office like it’s my last lifeline.
Because it is.
I don’t really have any other choice.
A bitter laugh slips out of me. It turns into a shaky chuckle, then into something dangerously close to a sob.
I slam my head back against the headrest.
“How the hell did I end up here?” I whisper.
But I already know the answer.
And now… so does Logan.
I jump out of my skin when there are two hard knocks on my passenger window.
Wiping at my tears as fast as I can, I roll the window down to find an older woman leaning against the car door. She tilts her head, studying me with soft concern.
“You okay?”
I swipe at another stray tear. “What, crying in the parking lot of a therapy center isn’t kosher?”
One gray eyebrow lifts.
I let out a shaky breath. “I’m just… having a hard time. That’s all.”
She reaches into her pocket and holds out a small card. “I’m Claudia,” she says. “I work here.” She gestures toward the building behind her.
“Oh, Jessica” I reply, taking it without really looking. Honestly, I don’t need the card to believe her. She has one of those faces, like she’s someone you can trust.
“I have an hour for lunch,” she says. “Do you want to join me?”
I blink. “Is that something you normally do?”
