“Okay,” I say nervously.
He sighs, placing the wooden spoon on a dish by the stove and taking my hand in his. “When I was a postdoc and newly qualified, I had a girlfriend. We’d dated on and off, but in hindsight it was a pretty volatile relationship. She wanted to be loved in a way that I just couldn’t give her at the time. Her friends were getting engaged, getting married and having babies, even buying houses. I was…snowed under with work, working to build a career. The pay was okay, but I was new, and I was working every hour under the sun. It was grueling, but it’s not just that I had to do it; I wanted to. We had been fighting pretty badly one week, and I had a session with a patient. I could feel my phone buzzing in my pocket, and all I could think about was responding quickly enough that it didn’t escalate into a full-blown shitstorm by the time I got home. My patient was quiet that day, but I didn't think too much of it.”
He swallows hard, turning away to put away some spices in the cupboard above the stove. I put one hand on his arm, with the other, I rub smooth circles on his back. I can sense where this admission is going, and it’s every psychologist's worst nightmare.
“She tried to kill herself a few days after our session. She ended up going to a mental health facility, but due to the damage she’d done to her brain from the lack of oxygen, she’ll never quite be the same again. Her family has told me she’s happier now, but it doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t catch it. I was too ashamed to continue treating her and asked my boss to take over the sessions.”
“Alfie, we work with very sick people, and we can only do what we can do during our one hour a week with them. You’re not responsible for every single person that walks through those doors. They have to be the ones to enact change. You can only guide them.”
Now him stalking patients makes so much more sense. This man—I want to scream at him sometimes—he’s the most caring man I’ve ever met. And even after experiencing that so early in his career, he still wanted to try to have a relationship with me, and I shot him down.
A kernel of guilt lodges itself in my throat. After my conversation with Lana, I wanted to try and speak to Alfie about how I feel. I still want that, and now that he’s helped me understand him better, it’s only reinforced that he’s nothing like Carter. He’s caring so much, he’s spreading himself so thin to keep everyone safe.
He bends his head down to rest on my shoulder, and I continue to rub his back.
“My father found out what happened. And he took me to one side and told me this is what happens when I play games with people’s lives. He told me to cut the girl loose like he should have done my mother. He told me to give one hundred percent to the patients.” He steps away, stirring the sauce again before draining the pasta and preparing the plates.
“Your father is a great psychologist, Alfie. There’s no doubt about it. But you’re a great man. You can have both worlds if you choose them. Life is not black and white. You can be a good psychologist and a good partner.”
“I know. The way I feel for you, Mia, it’s not like anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s like we’re working together as a team. We’re not fighting against each other all the time. I had no idea I could have a relationship like this. I assumed I would only becapable of what my father did. And he wasn’t a good husband or father.”
“Alfie, I’ve never once thought that you didn’t give a hundred percent to your patients. But even if you have an off day, that’s okay.”
He nods, breathing deeply through his nose, his eyes closed, just for a moment.
“With that being said, there is something you should know. It’s about Nate.”
My heart thuds against my chest like it’s trying to break out. Like I’ve run a marathon. Because even though I don’t know exactly what he’s about to tell me, I know it pertains to me.
“Nate had made some comments about you over the last few weeks. It concerned me, but not enough to think he would act on it.”
His admission has my stomach bottoming out. He hadn’t told me something that had concerned me. He thinks he knows better than me. He thinks he can control my life and keep me in the dark about things.
No.
That’s not what’s happening here. Alfie is kind and considerate and cares about me deeply. If he had thought there was a genuine threat, he would have told me. He did tell me. Today, he told me about the notes.
“I’m so sorry. I should have told you sooner,” he winces.
I take a steadying breath, letting what I know about Alfie wash over me before I respond. I’m not happy that he kept this from me, but I can’t really expect him to tell me everything patients say. “You did what you thought was best for your patient, Alfie. I can’t fault you for that.”
We’re silent for a moment, what was previously the comforting smell of bolognese, curdles in my lungs, my stomach threatening to revolt in protest. I push down the nausea,calculating who could have left them if not for Alfie. If I receive the notes on Thursday, it would have to be someone who comes in on a Wednesday and leaves them in my drawer whilst I’m teaching classes. The logical person is Nate, given that I have usually left by the time he finishes his session. Also, I’ve never met the other Wednesday afternoon patients, so it wouldn’t make sense to be one of them.
“You think Nate is the one leaving the notes? That’s why you’re telling me about his comments now,” I say. It’s not really a question but Alfie answers first with his downturned smile and the lines between his brows, then finally with his words.
“It’s the only person who makes sense.”
“I agree.”
His fingers slip through my hair, holding onto me as he stirs the bolognese.
“What a mess.”
“I should have been paying closer attention. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you,” he murmurs.
His pained expression makes me feel uneasy. Whatever Alfie decides to do about Nate, he’ll need to talk to me about it. I know this, but I’m not sure Alfie does. He’s made sure he hasn’t had to answer to anyone for most of his career. When I think back to my interactions with Nate, I always see Alfie. Alfie standing at the doorway, ushering him out the door, asking me to join him in his office. He was looking out for me. Whether he told me or not.
I pull him in for a tight hug, nuzzling my nose into his neck. “I trust you, and I trust your judgment. But I’m not sure I trust that you haven’t burned this bolognese.”
