“They are. But they agreed to sell me the house instead. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to go on for this long; I was going to tell you about it.”
“Katie, Jonesy, could you just help me with something in the kitchen for a minute?” Lottie says, spinning herself over the bench so she can get out of this conversation.
“So you bought a second house, and what? I was just going to live there forever?”
“Technically, I don’t own the house. You do.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, huffing. “Alfie, stop speaking in riddles because I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.”
He flinches, his hand drawing back like I might grab a fork and stab him with it. Jury’s out on that one.
“When you mentioned you needed somewhere to live, I bought the property a few houses down from mine. I thought it would be good for your commute, and you would be close to the office. You would be in a safe neighborhood. But the deed is in your name. It’s in the safe at home. I’ll give it to you later.”
“Why is it in my name?”
What is wrong with this man? He’s so infuriatingly dense, it’s astounding. How many lies has he told me since he promised to be honest? How many more lies is it going to take until he trusts me with the truth? Why can no man ever trust me with the truth?
“I didn’t want you to think I had control over your living situation on top of everything else.”
“So you let me believe that you were my only access to the people I was house-sitting for. I had to talk to them through you.”
His face turns sheepish. “I thought that was better. I knew you wouldn’t have accepted the house.”
“For good reason! It’s a fucking house, Alfie. My life is my own, and I will reach milestones in my own time. It’s not for you to just hand them to me.” I take a deep breath. “I—I need a minute.”
I slip off the bench and make my way upstairs. I need a minute to cool off because of the idiot sat down there. I need to work out how I really feel about this.
Alfie bought that house months ago. Months. Who buys their office manager a house? Who buys them a house but then won’t tell them they love them? It’s insane. It's goddamn certifiable.
I reach the library and I flump down into the wingback tan leather chair, avoiding the couch from the last time I was up here. I close my eyes for a moment, regulating my breathing. I know this isn’t the same as before. Carter, my teacher, he would hide things from me, manipulate me in ways I didn’t even understand. And it was always done to make me pliable. The irritation snakes up my spine. Alfie’s nothing like him; I know that. Yet he still has these control issues where he’ll do anything to get what he wants, and he does it in a way that he thinks he knows better than me.
I just want to make my own decisions. I want to feel in control of my own choices and not maneuvered for someone else's benefit.
I sit for a few minutes, the smell of the books settling me. We’d need to talk about this for sure. This can’t be a pattern of my life. As I start to rise from the comfiest armchair I’ve ever parked my ass in, Lottie waltzes into the room, the ruffles of her floor-length dress billowing at her bare feet.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, just a little overwhelmed. I’m coming back down now.”
She bites her lip awkwardly, her fingers wringing in front of her stomach. “What is it?”
“Alfie had to leave. Caleb called; a patient of his has been admitted to hospital. They think she tried to hurt herself.”
I wrack my brain. We haven’t had anybody on our watchlist for a while now. Most of our patients have been quite settled and not prone to suicidal thoughts.
“He mentioned the name Helen if that helps?” she adds softly.
“Helen? No, that can’t be right. Helen is finishing up her sessions with us. She’s improved so much and…no, I don’t believe it.”
I pull out my phone to call Alfie, but it goes straight to voicemail.
“Is he going to freak out? Because of what happened when he was newly qualified?”
Her eyebrows raise, her eyes wide. “He told you about that?”
“Yeah.”
She worries her lip before continuing. “It’s possible. Alfie has a sort of code he lives by. For so long, our monthly Dinner Club was the only thing he would allow himself as a reprieve from work. Until you, of course.”
