“Isolde.” Her voice lowers since we’re in the middle of the gym. “When? Before all this or after he moved into your apartment?”
“After,” I admit, caving easily. My chest unloosens just a bit, like I’ve just gotten something off it.
“And?” Adeline asks, barely containing her excitement.
“Andthat’s it.”
She gives me a look.
“I’m not lying.” I move my arm, cradling the back of my head. The encounter appears to be a one-and-done thing.
“It was okay, though?” she asks, and I know what she’s asking.
“Yeah, it was consensual.”
“I’d hoped. I meant during the encounter. It was good, wasn’t it?”
I could do with Leon rolling out another one of those box fans he’s got.
“Yeah,” I admit with a soft smile.
“But you don’t want to talk about it?” she gleams.
Laughter further loosens my chest. “It’s not you, it’s me. I’m shit at talking about myself.”
It’s a fact I was dimly aware of but am now certain about after multiple people alluded to it within the span of a week.
“After the whole Leopold thing,” Adeline says his name with no hesitation, “my parents changed their opinion on therapists. Lennie had already started seeing Janis.”
At this point I think we’re all on a first-name basis with Len’s therapist, despite never interacting with her.
“My parents thought it might be a bit more difficult discussing my issues with someone not in the lifestyle. So they found someone who’s all in.”
My brow crinkles. “Seriously?”
“Oh, yeah,” she replies, blithely. “Super professional. Very strict with patient privacy. I sat in his office more intrigued with figuring out how he got to be where he is, helping the Bratva with their mental health, than anything else.”
“You really went?”
She rolls her head around. “A couple of times.”
“It didn’t help?”
Lennie talks about therapy like it’s this magical thing.
“I don’t know,” Adeline admits of her own experience. “It didn’t not help, but. . .”
Adeline is just as closed off as I am, but I think she knows how to play the game better. She gives those around her just enough to think she’s happy and healthy. They don’t see her looking off as she lifts weights. Or how her face will fall blank before she snaps back into smiling mode when someone speaks to her.
“I can be that annoying person and give you his number,” Adeline offers. “He could help you with coping strategies. You know, since you’ve got a serial killer after you.”
“That was Ren.”
Laughter rumbles from her. “Sorry, I’m not sure how we’re categorizing the guy who put a hit out on you.”
I ignore her gaze, understanding the prying.
She doesn’t drag it out, though. “Seriously, I’ll give you the number just in case.”
