Page 46 of Trial Run

“Yes. Saturday.” He waved to them and shut the door with a gentle click.

Chapter 13

The next afternoon, Ben sat cross-legged on a crimson velour cushion in The Well Space’s relaxation room, trying to focus on his breath. Vanessa had filled the room with soft chairs, colorful lamps, and candles, and patients often used the space as a quiet refuge before or after therapy. He’d never spent much time here.

On a break between patients, he’d come down here—to do what? Try to learn to relax? The room had the opposite of a relaxing effect. The longer he sat here, the more his brain turned to all the things he should be doing upstairs, and also all the ways he’d failed in his progress so far. He’d been at the office for half days, but they needed to be full days. He still wasn’t back to normal.

Nell’s visit to his house yesterday had made that much painfully clear. He’d gone backwards in his progress during their conversation, and almost had another panic attack. Just when everything seemed like it was back under control, it wasn’t. So he’d have to buckle down and try harder, because going back to how he’d been two weeks ago was unacceptable.

Shoulders tense and spine rigid, he gave up and checked his watch. It’d been ten whole minutes—long enough. He unfolded himself from the cushion just as Vanessa walked past the open door. She stopped in her tracks and poked her head inside.

“I don’t believe it.” A smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Were you meditating?”

“No. I was trying out a breathing exercise.”

She raised an eyebrow. “In here?”

“I thought it might be useful. For research purposes. So I’d know what it’s like for clients. But I’ve got an appointment, so I’m heading back up to the office.”

Ben never over-explained himself, and Vanessa was onto him in an instant. She arched a brow and blocked his path out the door. Today she wore maroon velvet pants, a pink silk blouse, and her usual sky-high heels.

“Anything else going on?” she asked, scanning him up and down.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You never do.” She shook her head. “Hey, while you’re down here, do you have a minute to stop by my office? I’ve got some numbers to show you. And maybe I’ll get you to spill all your secrets there. Oops, did I say that part out loud?”

“You did. And I won’t.”

Vanessa excelled at getting secrets out of people. As the senior couples’ counselor on staff, she worked with clients through some of the worst relationship problems he’d ever heard of. He was grateful for her expertise in the area—he could never do couples therapy. He just had to stay clear of her prying into his own personal life.

“Come on, Ben. I’ll even make you a cup of tea,” she offered.

“All right. I’ve got ten minutes.” He shook his head and followed her down the hallway to her office.

Where Ben’s office had heavy cherrywood furniture and cream carpeting, Vanessa’s office was a riot of pink, red, and floral prints. Along one wall stood a dark pink couch with white and rose-patterned pillows. The windows boasted red silk curtains with beaded ties, and she’d strewn heart-shaped accessories all over the desk.

She boiled water in her kettle, poured it over a tea bag in a mug shaped like cherries, and handed it to him.

“Thank you.” He set down the cup on the edge of her desk without drinking. “You’ve added some new decorations. If Valentine’s Day was a room, it would look like this.”

A frown creased her brow. “Normally, I’d say good, because that’s my favorite holiday. But it’s not my favorite anymore. I should re-do this room. Maybe in shades of gray,” she huffed as she flopped into her pink desk chair.

“Any particular reason why?”

“My boyfriend broke up with me. I think he was cheating, but I guess I’ll never find out for sure.” She stirred her own tea too vigorously with the tiny silver spoon.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Well, it’s better I find out now, rather than later, that he’s a cheating cheater who cheats.”

“Definitely. But I remember you saying this guy was special. You were sure he was the one.”

“Well, he wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben repeated. It was a really good thing he wasn’t a couples counselor.

“Well. Enough about my love life. Let’s talk about your problems.”

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