Page 37 of The Close-Up
Anna aims a satisfied look at Paul, who lets out a flustered chuckle.
“Y-you’re right.” He turns to Simon. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean any disrespect.”
“No worries,” Simon says.
When they leave, Simon turns to me. “That was...”
“Sorry. I’m just now realizing how rabid I sounded.” I stand up to throw away my wrappers and napkins in a nearby trash can. “I can get really worked up about stuff like that. To question you, a qualified therapist, is pretty obnoxious. Like anyone has the right to comment on your relationship status and how it informs your work as a therapist when you’ve already proven just how competent you are.”
I turn back around to face Simon, whose expression is a mix of shocked and bewildered. Then his face splits into the biggest smile.
“Nope. Don’t you dare apologize. That was...” He shakes his head, like he’s searching for the right words. “Thanks for defending me. It means a lot.”
We walk toward Harper’s apartment in Nob Hill. I take a breath, relishing the feel of the air as it coats my lungs. It’s both cold and wet—a weird combo, but I’ve always loved the way the air feels at night in San Francisco.
“So that’s you rabid, huh?”
“Ha. Not really. I’m way worse when I lose my cool.”
“What exactly are you like when you lose your cool?”
I pause, wondering if there’s a way to word this to not sound completely unhinged.
When I look over at Simon, amusement takes over his expression as he zips up his jacket. “Tell me.”
“Promise you won’t hold it against me? Or think I’m a maniac?”
There’s a gleam in his eyes. “When you put it that way...”
I elbow him gently and he laughs.
“Okay, okay. Promise.”
I explain the disaster ending with Brody.
“Oh and the best part? I told him to rename his dick from ‘General Monster Dong’ to ‘Private Average Sized At Best.’ I shouted it. I’m sure the neighbors on the other side of wall heard my very vulgar suggestion.”
Simon bursts out laughing and starts to tear up. Soon we’re both cackling so hard, we have to stop walking and brace ourselves against a nearby brick building. A few people walking by glance at us like we’ve lost our minds.
“Christ, that’s hilarious,” he says after catching his breath.
We start walking again.
“I swear, I’m like a douchebag magnet. Every guy I’ve dated has been a piece of work. I wonder what that says about me.”
I bite my tongue, wondering if Simon’s therapist brain is quietly analyzing the insecurity that emanates from me in that single statement.
“Is that why we get along so well?” The corner of his mouth tugs up.
“Of course not. You’re one of the most emotionally aware people I’ve met. I don’t get any of the douche vibes I got from my exes.”
He shakes his head, smiling slightly. “Yeah, but I’m no angel. Maybe I wasn’t Brody level, but I’ve definitely been dismissive and hurtful to an ex before.”
“Really?” My mind is blown. I probably shouldn’t be this shocked. Simon is human. He wasn’t always the emotionally aware, nonjudgmental therapist he is now.
“I was a young and arrogant jerk who thought I knew everything,” he says, glancing at the ground. “Thankfully going to therapy and studying it in school helped me realize how wrong it was to act that way—and working with my therapist helped me put a stop to that behavior. But I still feel bad about how I hurt my ex Tessa when we were together.”
“What did you do? If you don’t mind my asking.”
