I try again. ‘But I am waiting for an important phone call!’ I glare down at my mobile, willing Fabian to ring me back.
I cannot handle being told off right now. I really can’t. Not by Edward of all people! I’ll lose my mind. And I’m definitely not up for a supervisory session. Imagine having to tell him what just happened with Wendy! No way.
‘That’s fine,’ he says. ‘I’ll be quick. I just want to talk to you about—’
Like an Avenger swooping to the rescue, my phone starts ringing on my desk. I suppress a cheer. ‘Sorry!’ I yell at him cheerfully. ‘I have to take this!’
He nods, but – surprisingly – still doesn’t move. Can’t this man take a hint? Or are his suit trousers so tight that he literally can’t stand up? We’ll need to have him craned out the window. Actually, I would pay good money to see that happen.
My phone continues to ring and Edward continues to sit, apparently unfazed.
Sighing, I answer at last, and Fabian immediately starts garbling in my ear.
‘Sorry, cherry pie, you wouldn’t believe the shit coffee machine Michael is trying to palm off on us. And after I delayed my summer vacation this year! I threatened to quit and he’s given in, but then told me I’m only allowed to use the quitting thing a maximum of once a month.’ He pauses to inhale. ‘So, I threatened to quit again and he’s upped that allowance to twice a month.’
Usually I find all of Fabian’s chatter delightful but today I’m not in the mood. Especially not with Edward sat across my desk, eyeballing me, with his tight trousers and uptight expression. I wonder what he’d say if I told him he had a resting bitch face? I wonder if anyone’s ever told him?
‘Right, so, anyway,’ Fabian breathes, ‘this therapy thing, my darling…’
‘No.’
‘Yes, Liv,’ he says calmly. ‘Thishasto happen, my little scrumpy dumpy doodle.’
‘It’s ridiculous!’ I say, feeling the heat of Edward’s eyes on me. ‘I don’t need it. You don’t understand, I had a whole story I tried to tell you earlier, about going to the cinema yesterday and teenagers wanking…’ I make eye contact with Edward, who frowns. But his presence in my office gives me an idea. ‘Oh, and I’m basically alreadyintherapy, Fabian! I have regular therapy supervision sessions with Ed, here at theoffice.’ I wave a hand in his direction, though Fabian can’t see us. Edward raises an eyebrow. ‘In fact, we’re actually in a session right now. So, if you’ll excuse us, Fabes…’
I pause hopefully, wondering if my agent will buy this.
‘Right now?’ Fabian sounds intrigued. ‘This minute?’
‘Yes.’ I swallow, nodding at Edward who is watching me, eyebrows knitted together with interest.
‘Perfect.’ His reply down the phone is confident. ‘Put me on speakerphone. I want to talk to him.’
‘What?’ Horror tap dances across my stomach. ‘No! God no, why would you need to—’
‘Now, Tinkerbell,’ he instructs. I swallow hard, then I do as I’m told in slow motion. Fabian’s distinctive voice fills the room. ‘Hi, Ed?
‘Edward,’ he corrects crisply.
‘Edward then,’ Fabian calls out in a sing-song voice. ‘I’m Liv’s divine agent, Fabian, I’m sure you’ve heard all about me. I hear the two of you enjoy a spot of therapy here and there?’
Edward shifts uncomfortably. ‘Well, I am the clinical supervisor here at the therapy collective, but—’
‘Perf!’ Fabian crows with delight and I want to scream as he continues, ‘So, we’ll just formalise that arrangement. Six weeks of sessions with Edward. That’ll be easy peasy. You can do it at your own office, once a week.’
‘No!’ I stand up at my desk now, horror dawning. ‘Absolutelynot! Not Edward! He’s… Edward is…absolutely not.’ Edward raises his eyebrows at me. The animositybetween us isn’t exactly a secret but I’ve never been quite so brazen about it. I bring the hostility down a notch. ‘What I mean is… erm, let’s not agree to anything right now. I’ll just have a tiny little think and come back to you both.’
‘Liv.’ Fabian says my name slowly down the phone and I try to listen. ‘It’s this or nothing, piglet. I’m serious, are you hearing me?Morning Teaare ready to let you go right now. And I’d bet all my bitcoin that you have patients cancelling on you—’
‘We call them clients at the therapy collective,’ I murmur, feeling the need to be right about at least one small thing.
Fabian ignores me. ‘Edward, are you still there, honeybee? Are you happy to do six therapy sessions with Liv? The studio will pay you, just let us know your hourly rate.’
Edward shifts in his seat again, clearly blindsided. ‘Well… look, I have quite a full roster of clients already and the next couple of weeks are fairly booked up—’
Fabian interrupts. ‘Edward, sweetums, I’m going to call you directly to work out all of these lovely details. But just so you know – just so youbothunderstand – this will save Liv’s job. She doesn’t have many other options right now.’
Edward and I lock eyes and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen this man look uncertain. He’s always had this innate confidence; this surety about him. It’s infuriating, honestly. Who lives their life knowing all the right answers? Only sociopaths, surely.
