Page 59 of Bittersweet Addiction

“Never,” she whispers.

“Dr. Montgomery,” I hear a voice booming into the lobby and the three of us are ushered into a room with a long conference table and seven people sitting on one side of the brown polished wood.

Well, this is intense.I squeeze Charley’s hand, seeking her comfort and she squeezes it back.

The three of us sit, myself in the middle, with J.R. and Charley on either side of me.

“You called this meeting, Dr. Montgomery. What can we help you with?” the man seated in the middle says. Dr. Preston Marks, the head of the board of Directors of the AMA in Georgia. He’s bald, with a handlebar mustache, one I’d only seen in movies and I can’t help but feel like I am in a movie.How did this become my life?

“Yes,” I clear my throat and shift in my chair nervously. “There are some things I believe you need to be made aware of. Everything is under control but—in case things come to light in the future, I think it would be best that you know now.”

A few of the members lean back in their chairs, judgment evident on their faces. “Go on, Dr. Montgomery.”

“Dr. Marks,” I address the Director before looking at the rest of the members, “members of the Board of Doctors for the State of Georgia, I’m asking that you keep an open mind in what I’m about to divulge.” I try to hide my feelings of unease as I do my best to sound confident and strong. “There’s been a…situation in which I’ve become involved with…a patient.” There’s some whispering amongst a few of the members. Although I can’t make out what’s being said, I can only imagine.

“Is that so? Is this the patient in question?” Dr. Marks says as he looks at Charlotte over thick rimmed glasses.

“Yes sir, this is Charlotte Pierce.” I shoot her a small smile, trying to calm her nerves. “My fiancée.”

J.R. had suggested it may play in our favor if we mention how serious we are already. Although she doesn’t have a ring, we are technically still engaged and plan to be married sometime before the end of next year.

“You’re engaged?” Someone chimes in.

“How long ago did you stop counseling her? You know the wait period after you’re finished counseling a patient is two years, although a lot of boards are doing away with that in certain situations…so if you haven’t been counseling her for some time now…” one interjects, as he strokes his chin.

“Two months ago,” I say before they can go on a tangent that would end with stating that this may not be a huge indiscretion. I let out a breath, preparing to drop the bomb that may seal my fate. “We were involved while I was counseling her.”

“I see. Well, that changes things,” Dr. Marks says. “And based on your field I take it to mean you were a counselor for both her and her husband?”

“Yes, sir,” I nod.

“So, you were sleeping with yourmarriedpatient.”

“Yes.”

“Is she still married?” I hate that they’re talking about her like she’s not in the room. I look at her, and I can tell she’s fighting the tears in her eyes.It’s going to be okay, baby.I squeeze her hand hoping she hears my thoughts.

“She’s recently divorced.”

“So, then she left her husband…for you.”

“There’s more to the story—” I start, because there is. But something tells me there’s no room for gray here. They are only going to see it in black and white.

She was married.

We started having an affair.

She got divorced.

“Simple question, Dr. Montgomery. Yes or no?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Yes. Or. No?” Dr. Marks spits out. I hadn’t had too many interactions with him, but enough to know that he didn’t take any bullshit.

“I think what my client is trying to—” J.R. starts when Dr. Marks interrupts him.

“I asked a question. Yourclientneeds to answer it.”

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