Page 60 of Broken Dreams
“Is there a difference?” I ask.
“No. I would never speak to anyone about what we talk about. No one.”
I may have already known that, but it’s still a relief to hear her say it. I can’t tell Devney about my fake dating Grady because she is already picking out China patterns. Plus, the agreement was to tell no one so there was zero chance of it getting out, but Brenna doesn’t feel like someone.
She’s a therapist. A trusted member of the community. She took an oath, or I think she did. Whatever. She won’t blab it. It’s...medical reasons.
Because I’m going off the rails at a speed I can’t control.
“I kissed Grady last night. Our first kiss. A real kiss.” I add that on because it’s the closest I can admit to having anything fake.
Okay, it’s out there now. Yeah, can’t take that back.
Brenna is good, she doesn’t even flinch. She just slowly nods her head. “A real kiss as opposed to a pretend one?”
“Yes, a real one—with tongue.”
She smiles at that. “Was it good?”
“Very.”
“And the issue is?”
“We kissed!”
Boy, for a very highly trained and respected therapist, I’m starting to doubt her skills.
Brenna leans back in her chair. “You said that, this is a good thing, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is, but it’s terrifying and all of it’s scary because I needed a boyfriend, but now that I have one . . .”—albeit a fake one—“. . . I’m not sure what I’m doing.”
Her face pinches. “Why did you need a boyfriend?”
Of course she’d pick up on that.
“It’s been three years. Three very long and exhausting years. Three years of going back to Rose Canyon and listening to how sad it is that I’m still alone, mourning Isaac. I can’t do it anymore. I have to go home this time on the arm of a man who adores me.”
Her posture and expression don’t change other than the slight narrowing of her eyes. “Does Grady adore you?”
“He kissed me like he liked me at least, but what if it’s not real? What if none of it is?” This is getting close to the confession I can’t make.
“I’m just going to ask this, but why would you even think it wasn’t real?”
I sigh, the weight of that question boring down on me. “Because a few days before we started this relationship, he said how he doesn’t want to be in one.”
“I’d say it’s clear he does.”
No, it’s not clear, but I’m not going to tell her that. “Maybe he changed his mind, but I don’t know that he wants what I do.”
“Do you know what you want?”
“No.” I answer much too quickly.
“But yet you asked me to stay here and stare at you for ten minutes because you...aren’t sure that the kiss you had is what you want?”
I’m starting to regret telling her. Maybe I should’ve told someone else, anyone else, because she has that eye that sees through the bullshit.
“I don’t know what I want.”
