She sighs. ‘It’s not really the job itself. Though that is boring as hell most of the time.’ She sighs again. ‘It’s just the director. Team morale is so much better when he’s off on another one of his little skiing or golfing jaunts.’ She rolls over on the sofa, so we’re almost nose to nose. ‘It only seems to take one person to poison an entire office, doesn’t it? And thereisalways one dick, ruining everyone’s work life.’
‘Do you think that one person is me at my office?’ I whisper. ‘At the therapy collective?’
‘God no.’ She sits up straight. ‘Of course not, why would you say that?’
‘All this shit.’ I wave my hands in the air to indicate the universe and all the horribleness it contains. ‘It has to be impacting my workmates, doesn’t it? Do you think they’ve had any clients cancel on them? Ruined by association with Tiramisu Girl?’ I gulp. ‘It’s probably why they want to have dinner on Friday, to tell me I’m out.’
‘Dinner?’ Sam frowns. ‘Don’t you have a regular dinner now and again together anyway?’
I nod. ‘Yes, but surely they must know I wouldn’t want to be involved in this one. Not with everything going on. But, no, they even want me tohostit!’
‘Oh, you should!’ Sam’s face breaks out in a huge smile. ‘I missed the last time you did it here, and I’m so keen to meet Jamal and Fran.’
I regard her with horror. ‘Youcan’t be here! It’s not right. It wouldn’t be professional for you to have dinner with yourtherapist, Arshiya! There are ethical guidelines around stuff like that!’
‘Professional schmofessional! Ethical schmethical!’ she says happily. ‘I’mdyingto see what she’s like when she’s not being a therapist. I want you to ply her with booze, get her drunk. I would love to see the human side of her.’
‘Arshiya doesn’t drink and that wouldn’t be appropriate,’ I try weakly. ‘And it wouldn’t be right for me to socialise with Edward either, not while we’re mid sessions.’
‘Don’t be boring!’ Sam cries. ‘It’ll be fun. You can put Edward and Arshiya up one end of the table. You and I can be way up at the other end, if it helps. I’ll just watch Arshiya from afar and take notes.’
‘We really shouldn’t,’ I try again and Sam pouts.
‘Please let me have this,’ she says. ‘My job is so boring and my boss is so hateful. You are my favourite drama and I need this in my life.’
I laugh. ‘Ugh, fine!’ I tell her, picking up my phone and replying to Jamal, confirming the time and details. ‘But you, missy, are going in the anger journal.’
Sam cocks an eyebrow. ‘You’re doing it again this week?’
I nod. ‘I didn’t exactly take it seriously last time, and I promised Edward I’d give it a proper go. So, I am.’
‘I’m glad,’ Sam says seriously. ‘I think it’ll be good for you.’ She narrows her eyes then smirks. ‘Sorry again for interrupting Monday’s session.’
I automatically reach up to touch my new fringe. It wasn’t too bad when I left the hairdresser’s, but it quickly bentover into odd angles that won’t be tamed. I tried to wash it this morning and it has dried into a poufy, gigantic thing that looks like a clip-in hair piece. And very much not in a good way.
Sam’s new fringe, meanwhile, looks phenomenal.
She smiles nicely. ‘How was the session anyway?’
‘It was kind of…’ I trail off, searching for the right word, ‘… it was surprising.’ Sam waits for me to continue, so I do. ‘It was actually a bit enlightening. Some of the things Edward was saying were really interesting.’ I clear my throat. ‘I’m not saying Ineedtherapy or anything, but some of the stuff he said made a lot of sense.’ I pause. ‘I have to admit, Edward’s pretty smart.’
‘Not to mention super sexy,’ Sam adds, grinning. ‘Do you think he’ll wear his three-piece suit to dinner on Friday?’
I try to picture Edward at any of our previous dinners. I can’t. It’s funny how he’s come so much more into focus for me these last few weeks.
My phone vibrates with a message from Justin. Oof. The sight of his name still hits me square in the chest.
‘Justin’s dropping off the last of my stuff in half an hour,’ I tell Sam, and she makes a face.
‘Yuck,’ she says loyally. ‘Let’s release some daddy long-legseseses on him when he knocks on the door.’
‘You’ll have to be in charge of that, I’d need to be locked in the bathroom,’ I tell her, and she snorts, getting up and wandering out into the kitchen.
‘God, did you see Orla’s latest post?’ she calls from theother room. I hear the clinking of glasses and the click of our oven being turned on.
I sit up straight. ‘A new post?’ I call out, frantically pulling up Instagram on my phone. My heart thumps at what I might’ve missed in the three hours I’ve been offline – what was I thinking! Sam always says I should have Google alerts set up for every single person we’ve ever dated, but I’m not sure that would work for new Instagram posts anyway.
I find Orla’s profile and there she is. I scan her gorgeous, clear-eyed face, her wide guileless smile. And there’s Justin, beside her. She’s done it, she’s posted about him.
