Page 3 of Rather: The Therapist

At one point, she was destined to be my wife. I was certain we’d wed. Our union would be the first of the family. I was the oldest of my siblings. It was fitting. But, Princeton changed it all.

His diagnosis didn’t align with Lola’s vision. Perfect life. Perfect home. Perfect husband. Perfect children. Perfect–

“Baby,” her date voiced, clearing his throat in confusion. “Do you know this kid?”

Tension grew as I approached the table, carefully scooping Princeton into my arms. His resistance pierced the center of my chest, aiming straight for the heart he owned every inch of.

“Mm Mmm! Mmmmm!”

“I– I– uh,” Lola stuttered.

She was as stunning as I remembered. But, those pretty layers were concealing so many ugly characteristics. Honey colored eyes refused to hold my gaze. Shame filled her to the brim, splitting her nerve endings and making it difficult to sit still.

For six months I’d been trying to catch up with her. The round belly and incredibly offensive engagement ring on her finger helped me connect the dots and understand why I hadn’t bumped into her. She was busy nailing the coffin of her next victim.

My eyes grew tired of trying to locate the beauty of the diamond on her finger. It was dull. It was embarrassingly small. It was, in fact, a carat or less. And, I could almost guarantee it was on a payment plan. Satisfaction lulled my aching heart. Lola had gotten exactly what she deserved. A fucking downgrade.

“She carried him for nine months and spent the first year of his life by his side. I’d assume she knows him.”

“He’s– he’s yours?”

Disgust lined her frame. With her nose stuck in the air, she began to explain.

“Howard, I–”

“He was,” I interrupted, not interested in the filth she was preparing to spew.

I unlocked my personal cell phone and accessed the files. I didn’t have to scroll far, because there were only a handful of documents saved. They were all pertaining to Princeton. The final one, however, was the only one I was interested in at the moment.

It was a court-ordered document that had been stored after several attempts to have the papers signed in a legal setting where lawyers and a judge were both present. Lola’s absence at the custody hearings made the completion of the paperwork impossible.

“The paperwork you requested,” I reminded her, placing the phone on the table in front of her.

“I– Priest. Wait.”

“Sign those for me, Lola.”

I lowered Princeton onto the floor. He clung to my leg, hiding his face behind my pants. When I unlocked the second phone to document the signature process, which my lawyer had suggested as proof of authenticity, hazel orbs glared at me through the lens of the iPhone.

“Lola.”

“Can we do this another time? I am having dinner with my fiancé,” she sassed, rediscovering her power, suddenly.

As much as a cordial meeting and simple signing was my desire, I didn’t mind matching the hell she was ready to indulge in. The difference between us was that she ran when the heat was increased. I planted my feet and waited patiently to be engulfed in flames. I didn’t mind burning, especially for Princeton.

With my free hand, I removed my piece from my waist and aimed it in her fiancé's direction. My arm extended until his temple met the coolness of my Beretta.

“Hey. Hey. Man, wh–” he gasped, hands in the air as if they would stop his ending.

“When he’s eating dirt, those papers will still need to be signed.”

I nodded toward the phone. Her hesitation curled my lips upward.

“Suits me–”

My finger pressured the trigger, ready to witness her squeal while begging for the same attention and love from a corpse as my son did whenever they crossed paths. She, too, was dead to me, so the score would be even in my opinion.

As if she was waving a magic wand, her finger began twirling across the screen.

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