When I finally stop, the room goes quiet… so quiet I can hear the ticking of a small clock behind me.
Dr. Pembrooke sits across from me, her expression unreadable but soft. I realize my hands are clenched, my throat dry, and I’ve just told more to this woman than I’ve said to anyone in years.
The thought hits me hard.
I just opened up to a stranger.
She notices the look on my face and offers a small, knowing smile.
“There’s a lot to unpack there, Nathan,” she says gently. “But that’s a good start. Thank you for sharing.”
I nod, still a little stunned.
She leans over to her side table and picks up a small paperback journal…
“I give one of these to all my clients,” she says, sliding it across the desk. “If you ever feel like the noise in your head is too loud, write it down. Don’t worry about it making sense. Just… get it out. You might be surprised what comes through the page.”
She pauses, eyes kind but steady. “I hope you come back. There’s more here than what you’re letting yourself see. Until next time.”
Chapter 12
Ella
I’ve changed for what feels like the millionth time and finally stare at myself in the mirror. I’m wearing a simple long-sleeved black dress that wraps around my body and nude heels. I grimace at my reflection and immediately FaceTime Ashton.
As soon as her face fills the screen, Ashton says, “What’s up? Sorry, I’m in a heated argument with ChatGPT about a legal opinion.”
I blink. “That AI thing?”
“Yes,” she says, completely serious.
I roll my eyes and check the clock on the wall. “Okay, I have exactly five minutes before I need to leave. Does this outfit say, ‘oh, how classy’ or does it look like?—”
“Like you’re going to a funeral and borrowed your grandma’s shoes? Yeah, that’s exactly what it looks like.” She sighs. “Wear a color so you look alive, and so he spots you right away. Your makeup’s on point, and I like the straightened hair. What about your wide-legged white pants and that cute, tight gold tank. Tuck it in, grab a blazer, you know the drill. Very classy, very trendy, not trying too hard, kind of says, I’m ready for more, but I can wear pants too.”
“Huh?”
“Hurry!”
I snap out of it and hang up on her, then grab the exact outfit she suggested, put it on, grab my keys, purse, and phone, and set off for the date I technically invited myself to.
I chew my lip when I get on the elevator. I mean, if he didn’t want to go, he would have said so. But he actually went with the idea and, dare I say, smiled? Maybe there’s more to him than what I’ve seen. Maybe he has favorite movies, laughs at jokes, and sometimes trips over his own feet.
I’m so nervous that by the time I get to the restaurant, I want nothing more than to order a tequila shot and down it. My stomach flutters a bit when I’m led to a table—the only empty one in the place.
The restaurant is one of my favorite new Italian joints, but I’ve never actually eaten inside. I hate eating by myself or being the only person at the table. Classical music plays in the background, the soft hum of conversation filling the air around me.
I’m glad I thought to get here a bit early. In hindsight, I should have gotten reservations, but that would make it feel so much more like a date—a presumptuous one at that. Then again, normal people make reservations even with coworkers. Okay, I’m officially overthinking it.
“Ma’am, my name’s Peter.” Peter gives off silver fox vibes—either that or mafia vibes, I can’t decide. He’s tall, tan, and has a blinding smile. “I’ll be your server today. Would you like to start with something to drink?”
I check my phone. He’s about five minutes late. “I’ll just have water.”
“Are you waiting for someone?”
I beam. “Yes, he should be here soon.”
He returns my smile. “Lovely. I’ll be right back with your water then. Let me know if you need anything else.”
