She nodded. “Yeah. Parents tend to forget that kids can be affected by stress just like adults can. Moving, leaving his friends, puberty—it’s a lot for a young boy to take on. He’s just confused and acting out.”
“That’s what I kept telling myself, but I was so worried—”
“That you weren’t enough?”
“He told you?” I asked.
She smiled warmly. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that his mom has been out of the picture for a while. He didn’t mention her once.”
“She left when he was a newborn, and she hasn’t been back since.”
Rather than saying I’m sorry or giving me those eyes that most people do—the sad ones that people always thought passed for empathy, but they were really just more pathetic than anything—she just leaned back in her chair.
“Don’t ever think you’re not enough. He’s doing great.”
“So, are you saying he doesn’t need therapy?” I asked.
She laughed. “I’m telling you that Noah is simply stressed, and like all stress, it will pass. He needs to learn how to work through it. Whether you choose to let me help with that or not is your decision, but I would never pressure you into therapy.”
I gave her a dubious look. “You’re not a very good saleswoman, Miss Prescott.”
“If I were in this for the money, I would have become a psychiatrist. But then, I wouldn’t have this garden, would I?” She raised her arms and tilted her head toward the rays of sun filtering down between the buildings.
This New Age counselor looked like a Greek goddess, and she’d planted a garden behind her office.
What else would this woman surprise me with today?
Liv
Considering my last patient had gone late, I wasn’t at all surprised when my phone started buzzing seconds after I’d walked through my front door that night.
“Hi, Mia,” I answered, shuffling around the bags of groceries in my arms.
“You didn’t even bother checking caller ID, did you?” she pressed.
I could hear the slight edge of laughter in her voice.
“Nope.” I set the cloth grocery bags down on the counter before rubbing my wrists where the straps had dug into my skin.
“Am I really that predictable?” she asked.
I stared at the bags boasting the words, I recycle. I’m awesome, in bright, bold green font.
“Mmm…yes,” I answered. “But I still love you.”
“Well, if I’m that predictable, why did I call?”
“The hot dad,” I said in a deadpan voice.
“Damn it!” she shouted, causing me to laugh. “I really am predictable. Oh well, I can live with it.”
“Live with what?” a deep male voice asked in the background.
“I’m predictable,” she said, answering Garrett’s question.
“That thing you did last night wasn’t predictable,” I heard him say in the background, his voice taking on a rough tone.
Mia’s shrill laughter came blaring through the speaker, and I briefly pulled my phone away from my ear.
“Ew-uh…come on! I’m, like, right here!” I begged as a growl echoed through the phone.
Seriously? A growl?
“Down, boy.” She laughed. “Let me talk to Liv. I’ll be off the phone in a few minutes, Garrett!”
“Five minutes.”
Those two words were so heated that I almost had to fan myself.
Lucky bitch.
“Okay, and then I’m all yours,” Mia finally said breathlessly.
I laughed. “You called me, remember?”
“What? Oh, right! The hot dad!”
“Yeah. What about him?” I said, playing it off with a bit of nonchalance.
“What about him? He was gorgeous, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.”
Really?
“He was probably staring at me like a person would look at a rare bird in the zoo. I was just something exotic and different.”
“There was that definitely. I’m used to seeing people look at you in that way, but no, this was different. He was into you—or at least, he was attracted to you.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?” I asked.
“No, absolutely not. You can be attracted to someone but not be into that person. The sexy celebrity on the cover of this weeks’ People Magazine? Yeah, he’s attractive, but I’m not into him.”
Note to self: Go back to store and buy People Magazine.
I found myself nodding even though she wasn’t around to see it. “Okay, I get that. But none of this matters. I don’t date my clients.”
“Most of your clients are under the age of eighteen,” she scoffed.
“You know what I mean—no entanglements. It’s unethical.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she answered. “But you have to agree, he was hot.”
A wicked grin escaped my lips. “He was the sexiest damn thing to ever walk through my door,” I admitted.
“Good. Well, at least he’ll make good eye-candy for a while.”
Other than a noncommittal, “Mmm,” I didn’t answer.