“Pull back? What the hell are you talking about?” My chest tightens as nervous cold surrounds me. I can’t visit a shrink. I can’t even imagine what she’ll uncover from within me. “Just because I decided to not celebrate my daughter’s birthday, you’re sending me to a shrink?” I throw my hands up in the air.
“No, Keith, that’s not what happened yesterday. You threw an angry fit toward a woman who just threw a birthday party for your daughter among your friends.”
When I don’t reply, he says, “I’m not the only one who thinks your behavior yesterday wasn’t you, Keith.”
My mouth dries up. “So what now? You’re having secret meetings behind my back?”
I regret it as soon as the words are out of my mouth. There’s clear hurt written on Connor’s face.
“Don’t talk nonsense. You know I’d never do that. I talked to Lukas and Gavin and they feel the same.” I’m about to argue further that their over-the-top concern for my mental well-being is not needed, when he interrupts, “You have no choice here. Visit Emily or drop out of Mikhail Lebedev’s case.”
My fists clench by my sides as I lock my gaze with Connor one last time before picking up the card from the table.
Bastard left me no choice.
30
KEITH
“You are in next.” The receptionist points toward a door with the name plate Emily Chard shining in gold.
I knock once before stepping into the swanky office.
“Mr. Adams, so nice to finally meet you.” The woman who appears to be in mid-fifties shakes my hand and leads me to a couch. “Please take a seat.”
“Jesus. I can’t believe I’m in a shrink’s office,” I mumble.
Emily perches on a chair opposite to me and chuckles. “This is the first line of more than half my clients.”
“I am not your client. I was tricked into coming here,” I state when I notice her opening a notebook and scribbling something in it.
Her hands halt before her gaze rivets to me from the notebook. “Mr. Adams, I have clear instructions from Mr. King that you must attend the entire session. If not, I don’t get my full payment.”
That bastard.
“So, you’ll have to stay for an hour. If you’d like, we can talk—”
“I have nothing to say.”
She closes her notebook and slides it on the small side table. “You still can’t go.” A strange silence stretches between us until she asks, “Would you like some coffee? Coffee and cookies often reduce the awkwardness.”
I nod halfheartedly. What else can I do? Connor has made it perfectly clear there’s no escaping this.
Five minutes later, we both have a cup of coffee in our hands and a plate with cookies between us.
“It was my daughter’s birthday yesterday. There’s still an untouched cake in my fridge,” I blurt.
“How old is your daughter?” Emily asks.
Has she put something in this coffee that tricked my brain? I sniff and she chuckles.
“Coffee is safe, Mr. Adams.”
I take another sip. This time testing the hot liquid in my mouth before answering her question. “Merida is fourteen.”
“Ah. Golden teen years. They are stepping into the world for the first time. Everything is new for them.” When I glance up at her in surprise, she smiles. “I have three daughters. My youngest turned fifteen last month. How many bakeries we circled before she picked her perfect birthday cake…”
I clear my throat, realizing Mere never got to do any of that, not even once. “We don’t celebrate. My wife died on the same day eleven years ago.” When I finally meet Emily’s eyes, she nods in understanding. She doesn’t sound like a shrink, but a concerned parent. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Your daughter must be real upset on this day, especially as she grows.”