Page 76 of Rather: The Therapist

Sleep well, Rose.

FIVE

“Tuesday, you’ve been good to me,” I yawned.

It had taken two full days for my body to regulate and rebuild its nervous system. Anxiety kept me up later than I’d like for the past two nights. Even as I closed my eyes in the dead of the dark in my bedroom, sleep evaded me. For hours and hours, I rested my head on the pillow with my eyes peering into the abyss my obsessive thoughts were digging.

His brother? It was the question I’d asked a hundred times or more.

My God, Rather. The fact my center still throbbed at the thought of him was even more damning. The two nights I’d spent with him at The Mansion had left a lasting impression on me. Hadn’t I gone to St. Catana with my family and things gone horribly wrong with Chem, one would need pliers to pry me out of the room and off him.

That’s how good he was. That’s how passionate he was. That’s how impressive his performance was. That’s how quickly our connection had formed.

For six months after my departure, I still parted my legs at night with him behind my lids. Licking me. Kissing me. Fucking me. So beautifully.

Without haste. Without hesitation. Without fault. He was perfect. He was ideal. But, his new position in my life wasn’t.

Forget about him. I’d been telling myself for the last two days. And, today was the first day I believed it could happen. Kofi was to be my husband soon. The quicker I established that in my head and heart, the better I’d be.

But, my pussy. My, was she giving me a hard time.

The mid-day nap left me with an appetite. I flipped the covers and slipped into my fuzzy slippers, heading downstairs. A large Cesar salad with extra crouton crumbles was heavy on my mind. My stomach growled at the thought of my oversized salad bowl filled to the brim with leafy greens.

The sun had begun to settle, casting the most enchanting purplish glow across the sky. Its beauty was such a delight to witness. I rounded the counter and opened the fridge, prepared to take advantage of the sun room or built-in breakfast nook. Both had immaculate views of the sun.

“Alexa, shuffle my playlist.”

“Shuffling Rather’s playlist,” Alexa responded.

Immediately, Toni Braxton’s voice dressed the beat. The song of choice sent a sharp pain through my chest, causing me to halt all motion. The third and lines forced my eyes close as those visions I was desperately trying to suppress began playing.

“I love me some you,” she sang. “Another man will never do.”

Ding Dong.

The sound of the doorbell rescued me from the depths of hell. I pulled my robe tighter around my body and retrieved the closest firearm without disturbing my small arsenal. The coat closet was my first stop. Opening the door, mid-day, dressed in a robe and an extra long hair roller was unacceptable. I’d never hear the end of my mother’s mouth in my head.

I removed the roller and traded my gown for a long, flowy dress that I was tasked with keeping near the door since I’d gotten my first home. According to my mother, my comfort was top priority but decorum was second place. Greeting houseguests morning, noon, and evenings required proper attire. After nightfall, they were subject to my nightly threads and I shouldn’t be sorry for it.

Because, unless it was an emergency, they shouldn’t be at my doorstep. All else could wait for sunrise. My sisters and I had lived by those words since we were gifted homes of our own. This was my second and nothing had changed.

I tucked the robe and gown away, promising to revisit as soon as I was alone again. One foot in front of the other, I moseyed my way toward the door. I opened it to find a gentleman on the other side with a parcel in his hands, extending it for me to take.

“Good day, Ma’am.”

“Thank y– you?” I questioned, genuinely confused by the box in my hand.

Kleigh and I had done a number online, shopping without limits and charging everything to a card that belonged to her family. She’d remembered the number by heart. The shipping had been expedited for every delivery and they’d all been made. I’d spent the last two days sulking and organizing the closet. Everything was accounted for.

Without another word, he was off to his car. I stepped away from the door after locking up. As if it was contaminated, I held the box a few inches away from my body and led it straight to the mailroom. It was small and just off the study, but the perfect place to sort through mail and packages so they weren’t sitting in the foyer collecting dust before I actually decided to deal with them.

I split the lone strip of tape holding the package together. Easily, the top lifted, revealing a vaguely familiar lingerie set with an envelope settled in on top of the threads. Out of pure curiosity, I removed the envelope and pulled the slip of thick paper from it. The message was short but it packed a punch. Long after they’d been read and reviewed a hundred times, they’d still haunt me.

Rose,

PS102.

9pm.

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