Do I tell him how he makes me feel? Is this where I let all my feelings out on the table and he dissects them for me and tells me what I need to do?
“Harrison and I…” I shake my head and bite my tongue from speaking out. “We’ve agreed to keep things professional.”
He nods and writes something else down. I wonder if I get a copy of these notes when we’re all said and done. You know like a parting gift of some sort.
“Harrison and Elle get along?”
I nod.
“What about him and Peyton. It’s important that he likes both girls.”
“Were not together,” I reply, correcting his assumption.
“Okay,” he says with more scribbling.
“He’s good with Peyton, but she prefers Liam.”
“Have you thought about an after school program or something at the community center that she can be involved with?”
“No, I haven’t. Will that help?” My voice is full of desperation. He looks up briefly before returning his focus to the paper.
“It might, but I’d also like to see the girls too, individually and the three of you together. We can figure out what’s going to work and get you all talking.”
“Okay.”
“Now tell me about you.”
“What about me?”
“It’s been a year, have you thought about dating?”
I glare at him. How does he know that dating is even an option? Small town gossip is going to be the death of me, I swear. “Is a year some predetermined mourning period?”
“No, but your hostility tells me that you’re interested in someone.”
“I am not.” I break my gaze from him and look down at my hands. They’re clutched, my nails digging into my palms. “I can’t…”
“Why not?”
I roll my eyes. “It wouldn’t work. He’s not my type.”
“There is no type when it comes to love, Katelyn.”
“Sure there is. I love Mason and this man, he’s nothing like Mason.”
Dr. Brooks leans forward. “Are you trying to replace Mason?”
“What?” I scoff. “No, that’s absurd. No one can replace him. Why would you ask me something like that?”
His hand moves his pen across the paper. It sounds like a bird walking across the desk. I sit up and try to make out what he’s writing down, but his arm moves to cover my angle.
“Finding someone to spend time with doesn’t mean you have to fall in love. It means you have companionship. Someone you can lean on and who understands and accepts what you’re going through. This person can be a friend or a lover. The important thing is to not let the passing of Mason close you off from what you need. Everyone needs someone, Katelyn.”
He pushes his chair and walks over with a tissue extended to me. I didn’t even know tears had fallen. What if he’s right? What if I can let someone in and still love Mason?
"I’ll see you next week.” He sets his hand on my shoulder. “It gets better, if you allow it.”
My heart starts beating rapidly as soon as I hear the mower start. I don’t know why he’s here. After last night – the way he acted – I thought he’d bail on me. I close the photo album and slide it under the couch. I don’t know why, it’s not like I plan to invite him in. I never do. I’m not even sure he’d come in after yesterday. But if he did, and I’m not saying he would but maybe he needs to use the bathroom, I don’t want him seeing me sitting here pining over my dead husband.
I lean forward a bit to peer out the sliding glass door, but don’t see him. Each time he starts in a different place. Mason always started in the back. He’d mow in a square, moving the girls’ toys out of the way each time. My yard is no longer mowed in a square, but straight lines. I know this because I’ve spied on him, even though I tell myself I need to stop. I need to focus on the girls and not the man who is mowing my lawn in place of my husband.
Luck is not on my side today because he’s starting in the front and my curtains are closed. If I had any nerve I’d go throw them open and see what he’s wearing, not that I’ve seen him in anything except shorts, t-shirts and a stupid beanie. If I had an ounce of courage, I’d rip the thing from his head before he could stop me so I could see what he’s hiding. And why, why is he hiding under those stupid things?
“There is no type when it comes to love.” The words replay over and over in my head. What if Dr. Brooks is right? Can I be strong enough to let Harrison into my life without reservation? I don’t know if I can. I also worry about what Mr. Powell would think. I know that my mother would never accept Harrison. He doesn’t fit her stereotypical poster boy for her daughter, but my daddy, he wouldn’t care, as long as I’m happy.