“About your feelings? They’re normal feelings, Bishop.”
“No. The women.”
“Whom you’ve slept with?”
I nodded.
“You were divorced and not with Abby at the time, so why do you feel guilty?”
I sank down onto the sofa and buried my face in my hands. “Fuck! Because I still loved her, but I slept with them anyway—that’s fucking why!”
“Talk to me about why that angers you, Bishop. Sleeping with the other women?”
“They didn’t mean anything. None of them. She told me she hasn’t been with anyone.” I looked over at Callie. “How do I tell her about them?”
Her brows rose. “Why would you tell her? If Abby doesn’t ask, I wouldn’t offer up the information. She probably already knows anyway, or at least suspects.”
I rubbed at the ache in the back of my neck and shoulder. “Probably.”
“What you need to focus on now is talking with her on Thursday. Listen, be patient, and take it all in.”
“I will.”
Callie set her notepad and pen down and leaned forward. “Bishop, I’m taking off my therapist hat and putting on my friend hat to give you a bit of advice.”
“Okay.”
She took in a breath and said, “No matter how things go on Thursday, do not sleep with Abby.”
I jerked my head back and let out a confused laugh. “Sleep with her? What makes you think I’d sleep with her?”
With a soft smile, Callie answered me. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see you’re still madly in love with her. And, from what you’ve told me, Abby is still in love with you. Your emotions will be high. Take things slow, Bishop. If you truly can forgive her, and you decide to move forward with Abby…go slow.”
I clenched my jaw as I tried to desperately push away thoughts of being with Abby. I finally spoke. “Thank you for your advice, Callie, but I highly doubt we’re going to end up in bed together.”
She flashed me a smirk. “If I thought it was ethical, I’d bet you on that.”
I laughed.
“I’m here if you need to talk,” she said.
We both stood. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”
As we headed to the door, she smiled up at me. “Good luck on opening day. I’ll be by with Manny and Lynn to pick out our tree.”
“See you then, Callie.”
“Bye, Bishop.”
Callie’s office was on the corner of Poplar Street and Main in a small office building that housed mostly medical doctors and such. After walking out of her office, I came to an abrupt halt when I saw Abby walking up the sidewalk to the front entrance. I turned down another hallway before she saw me, and silently prayed she wasn’t coming this way.
She walked by, and I peeked around the corner to see her walk past Callie’s office, down to the end of the hall. She reached for a door, then pulled back for a second before she finally entered the last door on the left.
After waiting a few moments, I made my way down the hall and stopped, staring at the name on the door.
Christina Nash
LPC-S, LMFT-A
Grief Counselor
“What in the fuck?” I whispered as I took a step back, then made a beeline back to Callie’s office. I knew she wasn’t scheduled with another patient today because she’d mentioned going to Lynn’s Thanksgiving Day party at school. Opening the door, I walked in.
Callie looked up and grinned. “You know I’m going to charge you double if you make me late for my kid’s party.”
“Christina Nash.”
“What about her?”
“Who is she, what does she do? I mean, I know she’s a grief counselor.”
Callie drew her brows in some. “She’s a licensed therapist like me, except her specialty is in grief. She moved to Boggy Creek from Boston about six months ago. Why do you ask?”
I ran my hand through my hair. “I saw Abby walk into her office a few moments ago. Do you think she’s a patient there or something?”
Callie put her laptop into a bag and swung it over her shoulder. “Let’s walk and talk.”
After stepping out into the hall, she locked her office and we headed for the exit. I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder.
“So?” I finally asked when we got outside. The snow had stopped falling and with the sun shining down, the ground looked as if someone has tossed tiny crystals all over it.
“I’m not sure what you want me to say, Bishop. Do I think she might be seeing Christina? Possibly. Some women struggle for months, sometimes years, after a miscarriage.”
I stopped walking. “You think it’s about the baby?”
Callie turned and looked at me. “Unless she’s suffered another loss, I would assume so. Again, I’m only guessing. If you really want to know, ask her.” We got to her Toyota 4Runner and she unlocked it, tossed her bag and purse in, and then turned to face me. “It’s not uncommon for some women to have certain…fears. After a miscarriage, you go through a gamut of emotions. I would know. I’ve had two.”