“Hi, Harvey. It must be important for you to call. Is everything okay?”
“I asked him to dinner. Here in my house. What am I going to do? I don’t want to…”
She knew what I meant without me having to say the words.
“And you won’t. You invited him in. You plucked up the courage to do that. I know you can do it, Harvey. Why don’t you tell me what happened? I have a little time.”
I recalled the events of the past few days. She interjected with a comment here and there, but mostly, she listened.
I rambled, telling her about how I’d followed him, how I’d fainted at the bar, and our subsequent ‘date’ yesterday.
“Sounds like you’ve had a lot going on, but it also sounds like you’ve made such good progress. You’ve already said it yourself; it doesn’t have to be more than friends, only if you want it to be. Why don’t you treat him as just that? A friend.”
“What if…”
“Harvey. Don’t go there. Don’t tempt fate. How about we schedule an earlier session for next week, and you can let me know how you get on? You’ve got this. I have absolute faith in you.”
“I’m glad you do. Why am I doing this to myself?”
“Because you’re ready. You’ve worked so hard on putting it behind you. You handle it so much better than you have in the past. The tattoos, the art, and now this. It’s a huge step forward, and one I know will work out. Now, go cook your food.”
“Thanks for taking my call, Julie.”
“No problem. You’re a long-standing client, and I’m available when you need me.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at the phone. I could put an end to all this now. Six words. That’s all it would take.
I’m sorry. I can’t do this.
Chapter 10
Killian
Ding, dong.
I breathed on my hand and sniffed. Yep, minty fresh.
I’d showered and washed my hair, now in a loose bun. I’d visited the laundrette and washed the best clothes I owned, my old, worn boots on my feet. They were the best I had.
I fully expected Harvey to cancel. I didn’t know exactly what was going on with him, and I didn’t want to hazard a guess, but I knew this was a big step for him.
The door flew open, and a very flustered Harvey stood in the doorway. “Hi, come in. I’m almost done.”
I followed him into the kitchen; the smell was divine. Pots and pans covered almost every surface, and steam filled the air.
“Whoa, what’s cooking, Harvey?”
He swiped a hand across his forehead. “Erm, shepherd’s pie with vegetables and sticky toffee pudding.”
Poor guy sounded stressed.
“Anything I can do?”
“Drinks? I bought lime and soda, or there are some soft drinks. I didn’t get any alcohol.”
“That’s absolutely perfect.” I was impressed he’d taken note. “What’ll you have?”
“Juice is fine.”
