Yeah me too.
“No,” I replied. “Postponing for a year.”
Or longer.
“Ah. Okay. I thought you were all set but at least you get more time together without being woken up in the night or at the crack of dawn.”
I smiled tightly. “Yeah.”
She could see right through me. Her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit.
“This wasn’t your decision, was it? I thought it was odd; you’ve been so excited.”
“Abby wants a career.”
“That’s understandable. Believe me, everything is harder with a baby.”
“I’m ready for harder. I want harder. This fu–”
I stopped myself as Oakley’s eyes widened. We both looked over at Everleigh, who was too absorbed in Beauty and the Beast to have heard my near slip up.
“This sucks,” I said quieter. “I hate that she just decided on her own. We were ready. She said she was ready. Christ we’d even picked out the soft lime paint for the damn nursery.” I scratched my forehead.
Why couldn’t I let it go? I was stuck on having a baby. It was on my mind most of the time, driving me crazy.
“Jasper, why are you so desperate for a family? It’s not like either of you are pushing fifty. There’s plenty of time to have children. Trust me, enjoy the peace while you still can!”
My grip on the mug tightened. “I’m not desperate.”
My once sweet little sister raised her eyebrow. “Sure you’re not.”
“I’m not.”
She looked up, pained. What was going through her head?
“Our family was ripped apart in the worst possible way.”
“Oh, fuck that.” I stood up, raising my hands. “I’m not trying to recreate a family because I feel like I’ve lost out on something.”
“If that’s not it then why are you reacting so badly?”
“Because I don’t want to talk about that arsehole,” I hissed and spun around, ready to make a quick exit. But I couldn’t leave. No one else was here, and I didn’t want to leave her alone if she was thinking about what our sorry excuse of a father did to her.
I turned around and sat down. She smiled half-heartedly, eyes watching Everleigh, who was still too into her film to notice us.
“Do you want to talk about him?” I asked, praying she’d say no.
“Not him. I want to talk about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not but you’re too stubborn to admit it. Come to therapy with me.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I’ll pass, but thanks.”
“Please? I think it’d be good for you. For both of us. Since the trial that subject’s been pretty closed–”
“And it still is.”
She sighed and her eyebrows knitted together.
“Whatever you say and however much you try to be the strong one that’s not affected by anything, I know how badly it’s hurt you. Jasper, you don’t go through something like that and get to walk away without scars. He was your dad–”
“Shut up, Oakley!” I clenched my fists and took a deep breath. My world turned red, and I wanted nothing more than to smash something up and go get wasted.
“Please come with me. I hate seeing you like this. Just go for a couple times and if it does nothing for you I’ll never mention it again.”
She gave me her pleading look, and I groaned.
“Fine, I’ll give you two sessions and then I’m outta there.”
“Thank you. You’re not going to regret it.”
Carol wasn’t what I expected. I thought she’d be in a black suit, notebook and pen in hand and instruct me to sit back on a reclining chair. Her office was relaxed, warm and welcoming with cushions, pictures on the walls and crystal figurines on a bookshelf.
Carol herself was a welcoming person too. She had her long wispy hair pulled back in a bun. She looked as if she was about to bake for us, not tell me where I was going wrong and how to fix my life.
Oakley sat bedside me, leaning back on the sofa with her legs crossed at the knee. She looked the picture of ease while all I could think about was getting the hell out of there.
“So, Oakley tells me she practically had to drag you here,” Carol said, smiling.
I glared at my sister out of the corner of my eye. She wasn’t supposed to tell her that! “I don’t need therapy.”
“What do you need?”
“A drink.”
Carol laughed. “I’ve heard that one before. In our sessions, Oakley has expressed concern for how you’re coping with what happened.”
“I cope fine.”
“He doesn’t,” Oakley said. “He’s too stubborn and selfless to think about what he’s feeling or what he needs. Drives me crazy.”
“Sorry, should I be a selfish prick?”
She frowned and elbowed me in the ribs. “You should be more selfish, yes. I don’t want you to hold it all in because you’re scared of what it’ll do to me and mum. You can talk about him.”
“Why would I want to?” What possible reason could I ever have to think about that man ever again? After everything, I didn’t get why Oakley would want to keep on going over it.