Page 142 of Rather: The Therapist

I followed her home and parked my car in the garage alongside hers. After a shower, we climbed in bed and both drifted to sleep.

I woke up tangled in unfamiliar sheets. However, the body beside me, bare and wrapped in the same covers, quickly dismissed my discomfort. I tapped the screen on my phone to discover it was near noon.

Princeton.

It wasn’t often that I woke up in a different dwelling from my son. Each time, there was a pang of guilt that stuck with me until I saw his face again. Rather stirred in her sleep, immediately easing the internal battle I began fighting.

She was a sight I could wake up to ninety thousand times and still wouldn’t grow tired. The ivory sheets against her dark skin was pure art. Images of her belonged in a gallery, one for the public to fall for just as I had.

“Sleeping beauty,” I whispered in Rather’s ear.

There were hardly any days off in my line of work. If I wanted to get anything done, I had to force myself out of bed and from between Rather’s legs. It would be difficult, but it wasn’t impossible. I was already rocking up by observing her as she slept.

“Rose.”

Her features rushed to the center of her face and then relaxed again.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t let the day get away from you, my dear. You should get up or you’ll destroy your sleep pattern.”

“Do I really have to?”

No. The word was at the tip of my tongue.

“Yes. To see me out at least. I have an appointment at three.”

“Where?”

She didn’t give a fuck where or why. She was prolonging the moment. I wasn’t opposed, but neither did I want to tell her where I was supposed to be at three.

“My tuxedo fitting.”

Her eyes popped open at once. Her upper body sprung from the bed. Frazzled and fucked well, she searched the room with her eyes.

“What time is it?”

“Almost twelve.”

“God. I’m going to be late!”

“Late?”

“For my dress fitting. I’m supposed to be there at twelve-thirty. It’s thirty minutes away.”

“Unless you can be out of the house in five minutes, then you’re already late, Rather. There’s no need to rush. How about you call and see if it’s possible to push your appointment back thirty minutes or so.”

“She squeezed me in. She doesn’t have much time to make sure the dress is perfect. I’ll have at least another fitting or two to finalize things before the wedding. This is the first one. It’s important.”

“So is your life and your safety and the safety of everyone in your way as you try to make it on time. Call her.”

“Prie–”

“Call her!” I demanded, grabbing her cell and handing it to her.

She quieted and unlocked her phone. After dialing the number, she passed it to me. There was an answer on the fourth ring.

“Cami’s Bridal. How can I help you?”

---