Page 83 of Gifts

I pull in a big breath. “Nope. That’s pretty much it.”

He scribbles more notes. I’m giving him plenty of material should he ever want to write a book about his career in therapy.

He looks back up. “Where do you want to start?”

My eyes glide back to the window. “Everything is sort of haywire right now.”

“Why don’t you start by telling me about this man who’s living in your home and whom you’re having sex with. I assume it’s the same person.”

I nod and start at the beginning, telling him about my last couple weeks and answering his questions as we go. I’m never quite sure how I feel about Dr. Graystone besides disliking him solely for the reason that brought me to him to begin with. I guess my last year and a half with him has helped. I can see where I am now compared to where I started. But he asks me questions I don’t like answering—it makes these appointments a chore and something I dread. I should consider not coming anymore.

He continues to scribble notes as I continue to blather about my life.

When I come to the end, I pick up my water and take a big drink as he asks, “Aside from the shoot-outs, stitches, and teenager school drama, are you happy with this man?”

“Happy?” I twist the lid to my water bottle between my fingers. There’s been so much going on, Asa and I just happened in the middle of it. I’ve never bothered to think if I was happy. “I suppose.”

“You suppose? I think it’s important for you not only to know, but to allow yourself those feelings. When you first started coming to me your anger and frustration about David were very strong—”

I frown and cut him off quickly. “They don’t even compare.”

He sits his notebook down on the coffee table in front of him and leans back in his chair. “Maybe we should compare them.”

“David and I were well on the road to divorce, so, yes, my feelings about him were strong. He lied repeatedly and all but bankrupted us. I know it’s ironic the only way I got out of that mess was because of his insurance policies after he was killed. You know this. But Asa is nothing like David. If you want me to say I’m happy—I am. You just caught me off guard. Events have moved things along quickly and I’m adjusting.”

“It’s a lot, Keelie. My job is to make sure you’re healthy going forward, especially in a new relationship. You’ve not only had trust issues, but suffered deeply from a fear of loss—of losing others and for your children losing you. Does this Asa know that about you?”

I divert my eyes again, because it’s questions like these I hate. Asa knows I’m a mess, but I’m not quite sure he grasps my unrealistic fears. I can tell myself they’re senseless and improbable all day long, but in the end, they’ve been crippling me for a long time. It doesn’t matter how hard I’ve tried to let them go.

“Keelie?”

I lie. “He knows.”

“As long as he understands what you went through with David, before and after his death. If this new man is going to fill any type of role in your life—"

“Stop right there,” I interrupt. “I’m not auditioning anyone to fill any roles in my life. He’s different. He’s better—better than anyone I’ve ever been with.” I look at the clock strategically placed on the wall behind me. Standing because our time is almost up, I go to the door. I’m sick of being here. But before I open it, I turn to him and find him standing as well. “I’m good, Dr. Graystone. I mean, aside from being shot, I’m good. The mention of Asa Hollingsworth shouldn’t be uttered in the same sentence as my lying dead husband. I won’t stand for it.”

*****

Asa

I run my hand through my hair and toss the magazine I haven’t been reading to the coffee table. This has been the longest fucking hour I’ve ever sat through.

Especially since I know my name is probably being mentioned in there. If she hasn’t talked about me, I’m sure she’s talked about getting shot while sitting in my fucking driveway. I’ll never get over that. I have no idea who this therapist is, but this whole thing makes me edgy. She’s had a lot to deal with in the last week. She explained that she has this standing monthly appointment and told me it was nothing to worry about.

The kids and I have been living in her house for almost a week. Unless everyone’s at school or practice, they’re with me because I’m not any closer to finding out who shot up my house or what the fuck’s going on with Emma. She’s as closed off as ever and I’m so desperate, I’m thinking about getting her a damn puppy since nothing else I’m doing seems to work. Levi and Emma fly out to see Danielle tomorrow and I’m only letting them go because they’ll be across the country. Whatever threat is lurking won’t reach them there.

Which is why Danielle brought it up again that she wants them in California. When she mentioned it to the kids while she was here, Levi had a come-apart and Emma reverted further. Danielle and I had words after that—she needs to keep that shit between us and not stress out the kids. There’s no fucking way I’m letting them go now. Spending time with Knox and Saylor makes me realize what I missed out on with my own kids all those years. Knox is smarter than he realizes and Saylor has such a strong will and a big heart, I feel an attachment already. I might have made an effort with them in the beginning because of their mom, but now it’s about them.

But their mom is a different story. I’m living in her house, sleeping in her bed, and we’re fucking the hell out of each other every night and some mornings. Even though she hasn’t given me the go ahead, I’ve kissed her in front of her kids, making no bones about the fact we’re more than friends. Keelie was hesitant but didn’t argue and we’ve never discussed it. We plan our days around one another, get ready in the mornings together, eat together, and spend time with all the kids together.

When it comes right down to it—she’s mine, but she’s not.

I don’t know what to do about that.

Just when I was about to look at my watch again, the door opens and there she is. I stand instantly and when her eyes find mine, she exhales as if she’s been holding her breath the whole time we were separated.

Not knowing what to expect, I lift my chin and hold my hand out for her. Thank fuck, she comes straight to me, takes my hand, and doesn’t stop. Pressing her front to my side, she leans up and, since we’ve done it enough over the past week, I know what she wants. Meeting her halfway, I take her mouth for a chaste kiss and ask, “You okay?”

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