“Sorry, what was that?” I lean back, my hand splayed across my chest in shock. “Did Dr. Adams just admit I was right, and he was wrong?”
He grips one hand around my arm, the other snaking around my middle, holding me close to him. “You’re a menace to society. I don’t know why the patients love you so much.”
“It’s the southern charm. What are you going to do without me?”
He grunts, letting go of my waist, moving his hand to rub the back of his neck again.
“How long until you leave again?”
I pick a piece of lint off his shirt, if only to find an excuse to touch him again.
“Three months, give or take.”
“What do you want, Mia? Do you want to move on and find something new?”
“Yeah, I mean, of course I want a proper psychologist job. I can’t run your practice forever.”
“Have you thought about where you want to work?”
“I want to work in a practice like yours. Somewhere where you can really help people long term. But I’d be open to doing other jobs in the meantime. Seeing what else is out there.”
I sense he has more to say, but he doesn’t. He gives me a brief nod, takes my hand in his, and weaves through the crowd of cowboys toward the exit.
Chapter Seven
Alfie
My mom’s new townhouse sits in the Queen Anne neighborhood overlooking Seattle’s iconic city skyline. She has a hanging basket outside her front door with petunias and fuchsias, further brightening up a doorway which is painted a shade of yellow similar to lemon. Inside is even more feminine. Long gone is the mahogany furniture that darkened every room alongside every psychology textbook and paper ever published. Mom has created a home that is bright and full of color, somewhere she is completely comfortable.
She bought it with the money she got from the divorce, with a little help from me and my brother Teddy. Both of us have done well in our respective careers, Teddy especially being one of the best defensemen in the NHL.
Penelope Adams, who has kept her married name, is a five-foot-four, auburn-haired woman in her early sixties. She raised me and my two brothers practically alone as my father was working twenty-four seven as a psychologist. I always think of her as a very unhappy woman, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth now. She lives well in her independence. Seeing friends, hosting dinner parties, enjoying her life as she should,without having to look after a seventy-year-old man-baby that can’t boil a kettle by himself.
“How is everything going, darling?” She places the teacup in front of me despite me only ever drinking coffee unless I’m here. We’re sitting in her kitchen, my favorite room of the house. A photo of Teddy, Miles, and I at a cousin's wedding a few years ago sits proudly next to her giant fruit bowl. Teddy is grinning ear to ear, pleased that he had already met one of the bridesmaids he would later take home that night. Miles looks sullen, and I look like I’m begging for the photoshoot to be over as soon as possible.
“Fine, fine.”
“Seeing anyone?” She starts to pour from a floral painted teapot before adding a dash of milk for me.
I wait for her to finish and promptly bring the teacup to my lips and sip, allowing the hot tea to scorch my tongue. “I presume you have seen the articles?”
She laughs. “Darling, I am on the Facebook and the Instagram, as you know.”
“It’s just Facebook and Instagram, nottheFacebook ortheInstagram, Mom.”
She smiles like she’s told a joke before waving her hand around as if to swish my words away.
“Mia works for me.”
“How scandalous. Good for you.”
“Mom!”
“What? As long as everyone is consenting. You forget I’ve met her a few times. She is wonderful. Perfect for you.”
“She’s completely unpredictable and, frankly, terrifying. I’m not sure how you think she’s perfect for me.”
My mom simply gives me a knowing smile and nods.
