Page 93 of Interpreter

I go to interrupt him, but he holds up a finger, silently telling me “not now.”

“And now, after finding a job and playing again, you’re ready to throw it all away based on the actions of someone else. Look, I know you love her, and I hope somehow things work out for you guys, but should they not, you still have to look out for you. This is your life, Tim. You’ve wasted the last four years by not living it. You don’t get another shot at this. Live for your mother. Prove your father wrong. Show the world that being deaf doesn’t define you.”

His chest expands as if his words are so full of passion that he’s winded.

“You have so much potential, and you piss it away because she didn’t come to you. That was Penelope’s decision, not yours. You are entitled to a life. A good one. You have a good life, Tim. One that many people would die for, and you what? Want to flip it off and walk away because it didn’t go exactly how you wanted it? Join the club! No one’s life is perfect. Everyone struggles and has challenges. You aren’t that fucking special.”

I snicker at the last comment, and it breaks his rant.

“Look,” he says, running a hand through his hair, “you’ve nearly turned me into a smoker dealing with your ass. I’ve been patient. I’ve waited to see if you would figure out all of this on your own. And you did.”

I raise a brow.

“With a little nudge in the right direction,” he adds. “The point is, life is hard. If it were easy, we’d have no failed marriages, no tears, and no need for chocolate and tissues. But it’s not. Life is messy and unpredictable. You were given a bad hand, but that doesn’t mean all the cards in your deck are bad. Don’t let one complication destroy what you’ve built with Milah. You owe it to yourself—to your mother—to try and make the best out of the life you were given.”

Exhaling, I soak up all Dr. Parker’s words. He’s right. I do take the coward’s way out. It terrified me to try and fail. It terrified me that I would lose hope like she did and turn out the same way.

“You’re right,” I tell him.

“I know I am. I’ve been telling you this for years.” Always a smart-ass. But I grin, knowing exactly what I’m going to do.

“Thank you for forgoing the strip club tonight,” I tease. “I needed another headache and a guilt trip to perk me back up.”

“I didn’t guilt trip you,” he says honestly. “I told you what I needed to say years ago.”

“I wouldn’t have listened to you years ago.”

It’s the truth. I probably would have left his office and never came back with the rant he just gave me. “But I hear you now.”

Dr. Parker, armed with a victorious smile, exits my car.

“And, Phillip” —his first name—“tell Dr. Callahan I’m ready.”

Because I am.

I’m finally ready.

Magic Michelle’s is in full swing by the time I arrive and spot Felipe at the bar.

“Is she upstairs?” I ask him, sliding onto a barstool.

He wavers a minute before giving me a stern look. “It depends. Are you going to make her cry again?”

Exhaling, I look at Milah’s bestie, a man that hasn’t judged me at all since meeting his roommate. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I was angry. Cal asking her to—” I can’t even say the words without going into another rage. “I was wrong to blame her.”

Felipe’s face scrunches. “Fuck no you weren’t. I would’ve bent that girl over my knee. She should have told you. I’m not saying you weren’t a dick. You were.” I nod. I deserve that. “I’m just saying, you both need to talk, but I can’t allow you to make her cry.” He rubs a spot on his crop top. “It does this weird thing to my heart.” I chuckle because Felipe is just that ridiculous.

“I promise, I won’t make her cry.” I even do a cross over my heart, so he knows I’m serious.

“Okay,” he concedes. “She’s in her room with José. When she’s done with him, you can go up.”

“José?” I slide the belt out of the belt loops of my pants. “I think I will take your advice and put her over my knee.” I’m already two steps away from the bar when Felipe throws his head back, his body shaking with unfiltered laughter.

“Tell her she owes me.”

I’ll tell her all right. Right after I fuck her senseless.

I reach her door in record time. “Open the fucking door, Milah!” Banging as hard as I fucking can, I try the handle too. “One!” I count. “Two!”

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