May god let this be the fastest forty-eight hours of my life.
25
HANNA
The past forty-eight hours have been the most excruciating hours of my life.
Since it’s the weekend, I have hardly anything to distract me from the millions of thoughts I have swirling around my mind. As someone who prides herself on being level-headed and logical, Miles has me feeling anything but that. He has me all twisted up and turned upside down that I’m not sure where I’m supposed to go from here.
I like him.
Not just like butlikelike and I haven’t felt like that for another person in a very long time.
He has this steady stability to him that I can’t get enough of. When he’s around, I want to listen to him talk but also be the one to talk for once. I’ve been trained to be a professional listener but for the first time, I feel like someone wants to listen tome.He likes hearing about my parents and my little crochet hobby and he doesn’t make me feel silly or stupid for the fruity pajama bottoms I wear. He asks questions and seems to actually pay attention to theanswers I give him. He makes me feel interesting when for the better part of my life, I’ve felt nothing other than plain.
I asked him to come over after his shift was done so we could talk. I know I’m at my breaking point with my feelings for him and while I think I know how he feels about me, I’m not going to assume. Acting on our feelings any more than we already have this past weekend would be unprofessional, but not acting on them will be an easy way for me to slowly lose my mind. The plan is to have him come by, have a casual conversation, and tell him that I’m breaking up with him as his therapist.
What happens from there is up to him.
I’m thankful today is Monday because that means I have a full day of clients to distract me from myself. He texted me a few hours ago letting me know he was heading home to sleep after a late night call and that he’d text me when he’s coming over. His need for rest worked out perfectly because it allowed me to be present with my patients while still getting some work done. By the time I’m closing my laptop for the day and heading home in the early afternoon, I get another text.
I’m about to head your way but wanted to make sure you were done with patients and work? I don’t want to get in the way if you still have things to do.
I smile at how considerate he is and type a message back.
I’m just closing up shop for the day. Meet at my place in 30?
You got it.
Sure enough, thirty minutes later, there’s a knock on my door. I have to hold myself back from running to open it because I can’t seem to get my heart under control. It’s already starting to speed out of a healthy range and I haven’t even opened the door yet. I smooth my hair down, press my glasses up onto my nose, and open it. When I do, he extends his hand towards me and offers me a paper cup.
“One honey vanilla latte for the lady,” he says with a smile. “Withalmond milk, like you prefer.”
I laugh and take the cup from him. “Coffee? This late in the day?”
“I got decaf.” He shrugs, holding his cup with two hands now. He looks like he just ran his hands through his hair and is wearing a pair of dark gray joggers and a fresh Firehouse Nine shirt. He either works out enough to where his shirts are always too tight on him or he intentionally orders them a size small to show off. Either way, I’m not complaining.
“I can’t believe you remembered my order,” I say, taking a sip of the drink and doing a little shimmy when it hits my tongue. He laughs at my dance and takes a step closer.
“Anything to get to see you being so cute. Can I come in?”
“Of course, come on in.”
He follows me inside and waits for me to turn and face him after locking the door behind us.
“So, you said you wanted to talk.”
I see we aren’t beating around the bush.
“I do want to talk, yes. Wanna play while we do?” I nod towards the checkers box that I intentionally left sitting out. This earns me another throaty chuckle.
“You be black, I’ll be red?”
“Always.”
We set up the board and pieces with him sitting on the couch and me sitting on the floor opposite the coffee table, just like last time. He lets me go first like always and after a few turns, I find my voice and speak.
“So this past weekend was a lot of fun,” I say, treading lightly at first. He jumps one of my pieces and removes it from the board.
