“I don’t know. Maybe because I let our marriage go lately...this year. I was so focused on working, on trying to build our life, that I forgot we already have one.”
I feel helpless and restless, and Dr. Phillips shoots me a sympathetic look. He rarely shows warmth, so it surprises me.
“You do know that a marriage is comprised of two people, right?” he asks me simply. “You weren’t...aren’t...the only one in it, Corinne.”
“I know.” I rush to defend my husband. “Jude was always wanting me to come home early for dinner, though, and it seemed like I always had to work second shift. I never wanted to tell the hospital no. But I ended up telling my husband no all the time. My priorities had gotten skewed.”
“Did Jude talk to you about this?”
“Frequently,” I answer. “Maybe not ‘talked,’ but definitely mentioned. It upset him, and I guess I never really understood how much. I feel awful, because I remember my father...”
I trail off and I’m lost in memories, and Dr. Phillips waits patiently. Finally, he prompts me.
“Your father?”
I look at him. “My father used to mention to my mother that she spent so much time on our stuff—me and Jackie—that he felt like he didn’t have a wife anymore. And then...”
I can’t finish the sentence.
“And then he was unfaithful and became a murderer?” Dr. Phillips lifts an eyebrow. “Are you under the assumption that those were causal factors? Are you saying you’re worried that would happen to Jude?”
He’s in disbelief, and I guess it does sound dumb out loud. I smile a little.
“I guess not. I just... I neglected him. A lot. More than I realized. I was always so busy at the hospital that I sometimes forgot to answer his texts and whatnot.”
“Do you feel that your marriage with Jude was beginning to mirror your mother and father’s marriage?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. All I know is that I took Jude for granted for so long. I’d give everything I have to be able to call him right now.”
My kingdom for a simple phone call.
15
Ten days, three hours until Halloween
Jude
My phone rings and I glance at it.
It’s Corinne. A surge of resentment wells up in me. She already told me she couldn’t meet me. There’s no reason to rub it in or apologize further. Actions speak louder than words.
I let it go to voice mail and return my attention to the girl in front of me.
She’s fluttering her fingers as she speaks, playing with a strand of hair and sipping at her drink.
“You want to hear about me?” She smiles. “I’m boring. Same ol’ thing you always hear, I’m sure. Trying to make ends meet so I can get a degree and make something of myself. Yada yada yada.”
“That’s commendable,” I tell her as a waitress comes to clear my dinner plate and check on our drinks. The waitress smirks down at Zoe, and Zoe rolls her eyes.
“That’s all, Beth,” she says, and I get a glimpse of her snotty side. As Beth walks away, Zoe leans toward me.
“The other girls hate me here. I don’t usually play well with women.”
“I can see how that would be,” I agree. “They must feel competitive with you.”
She shrugs again, unconcerned. “Maybe. But there’s no competition, really. Once I decide on something, that’s how it will go.”
“My, what modesty.” I grin. She giggles and leans over as if to wipe my mouth. It happens before I can even pull away. And then, instead of wiping her fingers off on her napkin when she’s finished, she slides them into her mouth, sucking them clean.
I’m mesmerized even though I try not to be.
“I do have one girlfriend,” she tells me, changing the subject. The air practically snaps with electricity, and I try to ignore it. “We’ve been friends forever. I admire her, honestly. She’s so pretty and stubborn, strong-willed. But she’s gone down sort of a wrong path. She’s a stripper now. I’m really a sexually open person, but God, I’d never be a stripper. You can’t choose what kind of men you have to deal with, y’know?”
I process the information about her friend.
“She’s gorgeous, though. This one time...” Zoe drifts away into her thoughts, staring into the distance. “We were talking all night and drinking...and I told her how beautiful I thought she was, and one thing led to another and we kissed.”
My groin immediately tightens because I’m a fucking man.
She shakes her head, like she’s shaking the memories away. “It’s the only time I’ve made out with a chick, but I have to say, I liked it. I’m not gay, though.”
She stares at me thoughtfully, then laughs nervously, her fingers fluttering to her hair.
“Oh my God. I can’t believe I just told you that! I’ve never told anyone before. It must be because you’re a therapist. You’re so easy to talk to.”
“Am I?” I’m wry now because I’m hard, so I adjust in my seat so my dick isn’t constrained by the seam of my pants.
“Yeah.” She plays with the straw in her glass. “I worry about Chelsie, though. Like I said, she makes bad choices, and right now, she’s staying with an abusive boyfriend. I keep trying to talk to her about it, but she gets mad at me. Any professional advice?”
I can’t turn the therapist in me off. “Well, if she’s a stripper and attracted to abusive men, I’d say that she has issues from her childhood. Maybe abandonment issues, maybe her father was abusive. It’s hard to say. All you can do is be loving and kind to her, and maybe encourage her to talk to a professional.”
God, I sound old.
But Zoe doesn’t seem to notice. She chews on her lip. “She doesn’t have any insurance. I think most doctors want insurance. Do you see patients without it?”
I nod. “Sure. I offer a discount to cash-paying patients.”
Again, I feel ancient. But she smiles beatifically. “Awesome. I’ll tell her to look you up.” She props her face back on her hands and turns toward me. “But back to us.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, us.” She smiles, and she grips my knee under the table. Her fingers are warm and firm, and she lets them linger on my leg. I glance around, and no one else notices, and I don’t know anyone in the café. Thank God.
“There’s an us?” I play dumb, because once again, this feels wrong.
But I’m not doing anything. It’s not like I’m going to fuck this girl. Right?
She nods. “Yes. I told you. Once I set my sights on something, it’s mine.”
“But I’m married,” I remind her.
She grins. “I know.”
She’s unconcerned. I pay the bill for both of us, and Zoe watches me with satisfaction.
“See? We just had our first date.”
I shake my head and roll my eyes, and Zoe wipes her mouth with her napkin.
“I wonder, though...” she muses. “If you can handle me.”
I snort and roll my eyes. “Whatever, little girl. I’ve got more years of experience than you’ve been alive. Not that this is going anywhere, because it’s not.”
She chuckles like the joke’s on me.
“I like it rough,” she announces, and she doesn’t even lower her voice. The old lady at the next table clears her voice, and I’m fascinated once again by Zoe’s directness. “I like choking and bondage and I like being spanked, because I’m a bad girl, Jude. A very bad girl.”
She looks so innocent as she says it, and she grabs my knee again, her fingertips biting into my leg, driving home her point. I like it rough.
God, that’s hot. I’ve never been turned on by rough before, but new is always exciting. However, we’re in a diner, in a place I regularly frequent, and I’m a married man.
Gently, I grasp her hand with my own and remove it from my leg. Pointedly, I set her hand on top of the table. Letting her touch me is wrong. Fantasy is fine, reality is not.
“Sorry,” she tells me, although she doesn’t sound sorry at all.
“It’s okay. Many get carried away by my wit and charm.” I joke it off. She laughs, and we get up and walk toward the door.
“Did I scare you away?” she asks as we step onto the sidewalk. “By telling you what I like, I mean.”
“Your sexual interests aren’t my business,” I tell her, but she smirks.