“No. I refused to meet them. My uncle is the only blood relative I have contact with.”
“That’s a lot to handle alone, Eleanor.”
“Can’t you see? If my mother had handled her situation alone, she never would have fallen for him. Love doesn’t make us strong, Hunter, it makes us vulnerable. Weak. It fools us into submitting to people who have their own agendas. The only person you can depend on is yourself.”
“That’s an extremely sad way to live.”
Sad, perhaps. But safe.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Eleanor
Outmaneuvered by the therapist once again.
Charlie eyeballs me from what I’m assuming is his favorite seat, slap bang in the middle of the corner couch. Probably so he can steal things from unsuspecting guests. Hunter has disappeared. Again. This time for a larger grocery run because we apparently can’t exist on fresh-baked goods and coffee alone. I tried to argue, but lost the battle since I don’t know where this magical bakery is located. I could venture outside, but that would involve people and potentially socializing. Neither of which is appealing.
Speaking of socializing...
I open the Zoom link Gail sent, only to find her already waiting for me in her home office. This time, wearing clothes. She grins at me, a ray of freaking sunshine to my dark and stormy cloud.
“How are you doing?” she asks as her gaze scans the area behind me. I’m seated at the dining table with my back to thecouch, the best place I could find to have my appointment. “What is that?”
I focus on the mini screen in the corner to check out what she is looking at. Charlie’s nose peeks over the top of the couch, and his big fluffy tail waves like a flag back and forth.
I sigh, wishing the mutt would leave me alone for a moment. “A dog.”
Gail blinks. “You got a dog? That’s progress, Ellie.”
“No. I am at Hunter’s apartment, and he has a dog.”
“I see. How do you feel about that?”
This woman knows more of my history and secrets than anyone else on this planet, so she should know without me saying. But she would claim I need to vocalize my feelings to truly understand them. “Irritated.”
“How so?”
“He stole my last clean pair of panties and refused to relinquish them.” She covers her mouth with her hand, but not before I catch the snort. “It’s not funny,” I tell her.
She shakes her head and composes herself with difficulty. “Of course it’s not.” She smiles.
“Then, last night, I was practicing a little self-care, and the damn dog jumped on the bed and made me orgasm in front of Hunter.”
Her face goes blank. I’ve managed to make my unflappable therapist dumbstruck. Does that win me a prize?
“Can we break that down? I am struggling with the visual.”
“You want a visual of me having an orgasm?” Even I know that’s not what she means.
“Goodness, no. Let’s start with why you felt the need for self-care.”
“I was horny.”
“Right, and what made you horny?”
I hate her. “An uncomfortable conversation with Hunter while wearing his shirt and lying on his bed as I stared at the mirror attached to his ceiling.”
“What was the conversation about?”
