“I’m accepting the truth.” Tara would be disappointed, but I could see the writing on the wall. This particular activity wasn’t going to help her. I’d try to think of another way to help her convince Michael to go.
Elijah narrowed his eyes and tilted his head like he was trying to figure something out. Figuremeout. “Does this have to do with the homework assignment this week?” he asked.
I flinched. “No, not at all.” I opened the car door.
“Sutton, wait.”
I sighed, pausing. “What?”
“I thought you said no lying.”
I pointed to the building. “No lying to her.”
“So youarelying to me then. You don’t want to do the homework? Do you have something against boxing?”
I blew air out of my mouth. “Boxing? This has nothing to do with boxing.”
“You’ll box?”
“I’ll box.”
“Okay, I’ll have Tara send you the address.” He turned and headed to his car.
“No, wait, I didn’t mean—”
“See you soon!”
I grunted and climbed into my car, pulling the door shut. I sat there without starting the engine for several minutes. Elijahdrove away and I looked over at Dr. Franklin’s office. I was so tempted to march back inside and clue her in. Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if I did? Elijah and I could stop talking altogether. Tara and Michael would work on their relationship before their wedding. Really, it seemed like the right thing to do.
Would Dr. Franklin play along though? Pretend that I didn’t tell her? Because if she didn’t, that would ruin everything. I wasn’t sure how she would react. She could be angry that we lied to her. And ethically, she probably wasn’t allowed to then lie to Elijah about what she knew and didn’t know. Yeah, telling her wasn’t an option. But being done with this whole sham was.
CHAPTER 12
“Have you ever been to a therapist, Mom?” I asked as I dished rice onto a plate.
“You think I need a therapist?”
Yes.“That’s not what I said. I’m just curious.”
“You know what they say about curiosity?”
“That it’s the precursor to discovery?”
“No, that it’s just a nice way to say nosiness.”
“I’ve never heard that one.” She’d probably made it up.
“I haven’t been to a therapist,” she said, for some reason deciding to answer my question after all. “Have you?”
Why hadn’t I anticipated her turning that question around on me? But since I asked it, I had to answer. “No,” I said. Because even though I had seen a therapist twice now, it didn’t count. It turned out that couples therapy with someone you weren’t really a couple with did very little for your mental health.
I arranged her plate of food on the television tray in front of her. Then I dished up a plate for myself and poured a glass of wine.
“It’s rude to drink in front of someone who can’t drink,” Mom said. Her medication made alcohol off-limits.
“I know,” I said, and sat at the table in the kitchen instead of joining her on the couch in the living room. My shoulders were stiff, and I had a kink in my neck that I tried to work out as I sat. I was sure both were from lifting my mom into her various places throughout the day.
“Can you turn the TV on?” she asked.
