“Right, you see me every day.”
“Not out and about like this. You’re practically a hermit,” she ate a fry off my plate, “these are amazing.”
“They’re good.”
“You know what’s not good?”
“You’re going to say stalking aren’t you,” I asked flatly.
“No. I’m not. What’s not good is waiting around for her to make the first move. She won’t do it.”
“I made the move. I sent wings over to the table.”
“You sent wings. Whose brilliant romantic overture was that? My husband’s?” she laughed lightly. I nodded.
“I wouldn’t suggest he sell an online course in romance,” she said.
“What’s your advice?”
“Talk to her,” she said. “She’s scared.”
“I know.”
“Do you know why?”
“She doesn’t do relationships. Bad luck in the past,” I said. She shook her head.
“It’s not mine to tell. But she’s not going to be won over with chicken wings. I’m not saying a big romantic gesture—she’d hate that. Embarrasses easier than you’d think, for all her vibrator bravado,” Maggie said, “but you can’t leave her with any doubts. She’ll make monsters out of them.”
“Thank you,” I said, “it’s really decent of you. You could’ve just told me to back off.”
“I’m rooting for you, Tyler. Just don’t hurt her,” Maggie said.
“Or you’ll have my brother kick my ass?” I teased.
“Your brother? No, buddy, I’ll kick your ass myself and you’ll wish it had been Jeremiah,” she said with a scary grin.
“I knew I liked you.”
After a few minutes, I went over to their table. There were four of them, laughing and having fun. I cleared my throat.
“Layla, could I have a word?” I asked. She shut her eyes briefly. She didn’t want to go with me to talk, not for five minutes. But I stood my ground.
She nodded and slid out of the booth to follow me.
“Where can we talk?” I said.
“Your table.”
“Privately,” I said.
“It’s a restaurant. We can’t go in the kitchen, and I’m not going in the bathroom with you.”
“Will you sit in my truck?” I asked. “I need to talk to you. Did you get my note?”
“Yeah. Caroline wanted to put it in the ladies room for when we run out of toilet paper.”
“She doesn’t like me. What did you tell her?” I said.
“Nothing.”
“Then why does she hate me?”
She shrugged, “I told her weeks ago that I couldn’t do an appointment with you if you asked for one. Maybe she figures you’re some sort of asshole.”
“Am I?” I asked. “Is that what you think?”
“No. But I don’t want to do this,” she said. I put my hand in the small of her back to guide her to the parking lot. The way my palm fit in the curve of her spine was intoxicating.
“Dammit,” she said, swatting at my hand, “don’t do that.”
I unlocked the truck, went to offer her a hand but pulled back, “Fine, fall on your ass,” I said.
“Look, I came with you. What do you want to say? I used you? You’re never going back to therapy because you were doing better and then your counselor seduced you?” she said, her voice hot and defensive.
“Nothing like that. I wished you hadn’t left. Why did you?”
“It was the best thing to do. I couldn’t turn back time. That would have been my first choice. So leaving was the next best thing. Before any more damage could be done.”
“You don’t think leaving me while I was asleep hurt both of us?” I accused. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to see me and cry and beg my forgiveness or at least run into my arms and kiss me like it was the end of some Hollywood blockbuster.
“It was a mistake,” she said, sitting in the passenger seat of my truck, refusing to meet my gaze.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Of course I’m not okay!” she said, her emotion stirring me to action.
“What were you afraid of? When you got up and left me.”
“That it was now or never. If I wanted out, I had to get out right then. Or else there’d be no going back. I’d rather be the slut with the one-night stand with a patient than get tangled up any further.”
“Tangled up in what?” I demanded, moving closer to her across the bench seat. She froze.
“Nothing can happen. I mean nothing more than what we already did. I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t you ever apologize to me. Not for that,” I said, my voice low and commanding. “If you truly didn’t want to do what we did, I wish you’d told me.”
“I did! I do! I mean, I did. But it was wrong. I can’t act like that and have any self-respect. I’m a counselor. I’m supposed to help people heal, not do more damage to them.”
“Honey, nothing you did was damaging to me. Maybe a few scratch marks on my back,” I said with a wicked smile.