Page 130 of Unhinged

“Good morning, Simone. How…are you today?” she asks but doesn’t look at me. Did Heifer One get to her too? I fucking hate that bitch even more.

“I’m fine. And you?”

“I’m well, thank you. I didn’t think you’d be in today, honestly.”

“Why is that?”

“You and Greg were…up late.” Oh, holy fuck.

“We went miniature golfing and had dinner. He wanted me to stay with him.”

“I’m aware. I heard voices, so I went to the kitchen and saw him…convincing you. I didn’t want to interrupt. Newlyweds and all.” This is so fucking excruciating.

“I’m sorry we bothered you, Dr. Abramson.”

She scoffs, “I think you can call me Lizette now. I mean, you married my son.”

I cringe as I toy with a blouse button. “Again. I’m really sorry we woke you.”

“I wasn’t asleep.”

I frown but nod. “Right.”

“Greg seems to make you happy.” This can’t be happening.

Thankfully, I don’t have to lie. “Immensely.”

She riffles through her paperwork. “Despite the bumps in the road a couple of weeks ago, with the abrupt elopement, it’s apparent you make Greg happy too. I’ve never seen either of my kids in love. Seeing Greg in love, I’m grateful for you.”

“You see that?”

She finally looks at me with a dubious smile that resembles Greg’s. “Of course. He told me.” Right. Our sham. I nod, but she adds, “He didn’t have to, though. I know my son. And his angry reaction to you was his fear of acknowledging his true feelings. I suspected as much but didn’t want to push him. It appears he’s been harboring them for a while. You said you were only friends in Richmond?”

I try to digest that while focusing on her question. “Um, yes. Friends.”

“Well, a passing infatuation would not have triggered his visceral anger, Simone.”

Dr. Abramson’s desk phone rings, and I back out of the room, stunned.

She has to be wrong, but she’s a fucking professional. She analyzes people’s feelings for a living. This complicates things. Besides, it’s not like she knows him better than most people.

Greg isn’t in love with me. At least, not like a husband typically loves his wife. Why would he love a dumb college student? We’re friends, and I know he cares about me, but it’s not enough. I’m selfish. I need to be the center of his universe, which is laughable that he’d consider me. There’s no chance he loves me. We’re friends. Lovers. Spouses.

Jesus. Greg is my husband.

But I refuse to settle for fucking less. I want it all. I want my damn prince.

As for me being in love with Greg? No. Didn’t I learn my lesson yet? None of the guys I dated were the one, and neither is the guy I married. I’d be setting myself up for heartbreak when our two weeks and marriage are over.

God, I need to believe this shit.

I hurry to the storage room and lock the door. Seeing papers stacked everywhere, I shove them, and as they flutter to the floor, I fall with them, crying my damn eyes out.

I fucking fell in love with Greg again when I promised myself I wouldn’t.

I stay in the storage room all day, even skipping lunch. I use the time to not concentrate on my class assignment, cleaning up my mess, and bawling over my stupid heart doing whatever the fuck it wants.

Arriving at the bar, I go to the locker room since I don’t take my phone onto the floor. I check it before putting my purse in the locker I share with Amos. I see a text from Greg.

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