Lot of the time, he’d felt like a burden on the guy, but when he’d been roping in a volunteer or two? He’d been mission critical and had appreciated the role reversal.

Kind of pathetic that that was all he’d brought to the relationship. Considering everything Eddie was capable of.

Had been capable of.

“Good morning.”

Ad jerked to attention. Well, one down, one to go, he thought as Sissy came into the kitchen. Her hair was damp, but brushed, and she smelled like that shampoo-and-conditioner set he’d gotten her during the infamous trip to Target with Devina. Pantene something.

“Hey,” he said. “I picked up breakfast ’bout an hour ago. I think it’s seen better days—which was probably true the second I bought it.”

“Thanks, but I’m not that hungry.” She pulled out a chair and parked it. “Coffee will hit the spot.”

Going by the way she ducked her eyes and kept checking the doorway to see if her man was coming down, Ad decided that the virginity thing had definitely been dispatched.

Man, Jim was a lucky, lucky sonofabitch. Not that Ad wanted the girl, too. It was just … wow. To be with a woman for her first time … to treat her right and do her well. What an honor.

He took a draw from his own java. Check him out, getting all sappy.

“Where’s Jim?” he asked.

“Upstairs—maybe in the shower. Who knows.”

“Oh.” Huh. Trouble in paradise? “Listen, I’m going to hit Home Depot and get some plywood—”

“Great.” She burst up with her coffee. “Let’s go.”

Okaaaay, maybe he’d been wrong about what had kept them busy. “All right, lemme go tell Jim. Unless you want to—”

“Nope, you go ahead. You got the keys? I’ll start the car.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He leaned to the side and took out the goods. Tossing the jangle over, he was surprised by how much he wanted to play couples counselor for them. Good ol’ Uncle Adrian. But like he had a fucking clue? “I’ll go find Jim.”

“Good deal.”

As Sissy marched out of the kitchen with her head up and her shoulders back, he wondered what exactly had gone down. And then Jim arrived, looking like someone had let a dog take a shit in his boots: grim eyes, drawn brows, whole lot of mean-as-a-snake.

“Breakfast?” Ad asked dryly.

“No, thanks, I’m not hungry. But coffee would be great.”

“There’s an epidemic of that goin’ around.”

Jim didn’t even glance his way. Probably best. The fucker’s stare seemed to have become weaponized.

“So Sissy and I are going to Home Depot.”

“Now?”

“No. Next month.” Ad got to his feet. “Of course now. You want to stay here and watch the traps—”

“I’m coming, too.”

Jim headed for the door at a stalk and let the thing slam behind him. He even left his coffee behind, which was going to improve his mood even more, no doubt.

“Fantastic,” Ad muttered. “Soooo lookin’ forward to being in an enclosed space with you two. Hashtag ‘awesome.’”

Chapter Nineteen

“Devina, I want to support you in whatever way I can. But it’s a challenge when you won’t speak.”

As Devina sat on her therapist’s oatmeal-colored sofa, she figured that the woman had a point. Humans couldn’t read minds, after all. But shit, where to start.

“Is it a setback with your job?” the therapist murmured. “I know you said that that colleague of yours was trying to undermine you when it came to the Vice Presidency position. Or is it an issue with the man you’ve mentioned?”

Ah, yes, a happy reminder of how much she’d had to keep to herself to avoid blowing that little master’s-of-social-work-level brain to smithereens: Devina had turned the war into a promotion at a corporation, and Jim into a competing VP. Then, when things between her and the savior had gotten hot and heavy, she’d switched over to something closer to the truth.

That Jim was a love interest that was not going as well as she’d hoped.

“You know, this is the first time I’ve seen you like this.”

Devina cleared her throat. “Silent, huh.”

“No, without makeup. You’re quite beautiful without all of the so-called enhancements. Have you ever contemplated going without it on a regular basis?”

Devina touched her face. “I guess I forgot to put any on.”

“Your hands are bandaged. Did you hurt yourself?”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to know how, Devina. I want to help you.”

God, the woman’s voice was as soothing as a gentle hug, the kind of thing that made you want to pour your heart out, even if it wasn’t in your nature.

“I had an accident. All over everything I own.”

The woman’s eyebrows lifted in her well-padded face. Today she was wearing yet another loose getup, with a skirt that fell to the floor and a blouse that probably had been part of a tent in an earlier life. Everything was in muted shades of brown, just like the office walls, the rug, the couch, the pair of reading glasses around her neck. Even the box of Kleenex was the color of a macaroon.

It was like a sepia photograph.

Although the beach wood pieces were more seventies than suffrage when it came to era.

“…what happened? Devina?”

Devina refocused on the woman. “You don’t know who I really am.”

“I don’t?” The therapist smiled a little. “You’d be surprised how much I know about you.”

Uh-huh. Right. “I don’t … love people. I’m not built like that.”

“But you have love inside of you.” As Devina started to argue, the therapist shook her head. “No, you love your things—you care for them, keep them safe, worry about them. It’s not healthy, and there’s an addiction component to it all, but you do have the capacity to bond. Unfortunately, you choose things because they’re safer—that is understandable, though. Inanimate objects don’t do unexpected things or break your heart or betray you. Objects are safe. People are complicated.”

Well, yeah, Devina thought. But she also wasn’t into the hearts-and-flowers shit because she was evil, hello.

“He loves someone else,” she blurted.

“This man of yours?”

“The one I’m in love with … yes, he loves someone else. But he is mine. He’s supposed to be mine, not hers.”

“The two of you are in a relationship?”

“Very much so.”

The therapist nodded. “And you feel that he’s been unfaithful?”

“He’s now living with someone else. I mean, I was with him when he met her. I just never expected…” She pushed her hair back. “Here’s the thing, it’s like, he and I have this romantic night down at the Freidmont, right? And it’s all amazing. The best sex we’ve ever had.” Jim had fucked her so hard from behind that her forehead had left a bald patch on the rug at the foot of the bed. “But the morning after? He goes home to her. Leaves me, and goes home … to her. And I’m telling you, it’s not like she’s attractive. My God, she’s built like a Ticonderoga pencil. Flat. So flat, and that hair? Please. I’ve seen rat fur with better body. It’s downright embarrassing that he could actually be attracted to her.”

“Did you have an understanding that you were in a monogamous relationship with each other?”

“Of course.” How could he want anyone but her? “We’re in love.”

“But he’s seeing this other woman.”

“Yes.”

“So what happened that prompted you to call? You just said you’d had an ‘accident’ all over your things?”

Devina fought the urge to break down as she pictured the mess of her basement. “It was bad enough that he was with her after we had our special night. But then I totally put myself on the line for him. I broke some major rules to save his … job.”

“Are we talking corporate mandates, or state and local laws?”

She guessed the Creator’s rules and regs were more like the feds’. “Pretty high-level laws. I saved his job for him—and then I watched as he went to her right in front of me and…”

Okay, she totally didn’t want to think about Sissy and Jim getting all reeeeeeeunited and it feeeeeeels so gooooood after he’d come back from Purgatory.

Fucking hell, she was going to be sick.

“Does she work in this company, too?”

“How can he do this to me?” Devina muttered.

“You know, I think it might be more productive to focus on yourself and where you want to go from here. You can’t control him or his choices. All you can do is take care of yourself and put your needs first. At the end of the day, people have to earn the right to be in your life, and it sounds as if he’s not doing that. It may be a healthier option to avoid contact with him and reassess the relationship. With distance comes perspective.”

“It’s going to be impossible not to see him. At least for the next round.”

“Round?”

“Week.” Depending on how long it took her to win. “Or so.”

The therapist leaned forward, her pudgy fingers tightening their hold on her brown-and-gold reading glasses. “Devina, it’s important for you to realize that there is no one person for any of us. Relationships come and go out of our lives all the time. Some partings are more painful than others, but that’s where the learning comes—learning about ourselves, the world around us, other people.”

“Why does it have to hurt like this,” she said, letting her head fall to the side. “Why?”

The therapist’s face changed subtly, an odd light coming into the woman’s eyes. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this, I honestly am. I just don’t think there’s any other way for us to learn the lessons we’re here to learn.” The therapist folded and unfolded those glasses. “You know, people really do ask me that all the time, and that’s the only answer I have. I wish it could be different, but the more I see, the more I’m convinced that just as children have growing pains as their bodies work to attain maturity, as people’s souls deepen and gain resonance it’s the same thing. To be challenged, to stretch, to get stronger comes only with the hard stuff—loss, heartache, disappointment. You’re doing the work you need to do, Devina. And I’m very proud of you.”

Devina stared at the woman for a long time. Funny, at the moment, the therapist didn’t seem so doughy as she sat on that puffy couch. She looked … regal … in her wisdom.

And she was honestly empathizing. Even though Devina was just one of eight, hundred-and-seventy-five-an-hour sessions in the day, the therapist seemed to truly care.

“How do you do it?” Devina asked.

“Do what?”

“Care this much? Doesn’t it eat you alive.”

Sadness suffused that barely contoured face. “It is my burden to carry. It is my growth and my maturation—my work.”

“Glad I don’t have your job.”

The therapist smiled. “No, Devina, this is not for you.”

Devina checked her watch and patted around for her bag. “Time’s up. I’ll write you a—damn it. Where’s my purse?”

“I don’t remember seeing you with one when you came in.”

“Oh. Can I give you a check for two at the next session? Or do you want to bill me?”

“Actually, I’m putting everything through to your insurance company now. They’ll take care of it.”

“Oh, great.” Devina got to her feet. Hesitated. “I’m not sure where to go with all this.”

“Believe it or not, that’s part of finding your way. Trust me. And maybe we should keep your regularly scheduled appointment for later this week. What do you think?”

“Yeah, good idea.” She’d make sure to do her face for that little tête-à-tête. “See you then.”

“Be good to yourself, Devina.”

Yeah. Sure.

Over at the door, she paused and glanced over her shoulder. The therapist hadn’t moved, didn’t move, from her perch on the couch. And yet, between one blink and the next … something changed. Something …

Okay, she was losing her mind.

No wonder she needed to come here three to four times a week.

“Thank you,” Devina murmured. “You know, for…”

“I know.” The therapist smiled again. “And I want you to keep something in mind. It doesn’t sound as if this man truly loves and respects you. I recognize that you believe you love him, but I challenge whether or not you have a good compass on what is right for you in a relationship. I know it’s hard to move on when feelings are strong, but sometimes, that is the only way we can nurture ourselves. I’m also willing to bet, if you do the work you’re supposed to do, that when the right man does come along, not only will you know it, but you will be able to have a productive, healthy relationship with him.”

Devina laughed sharply. “I can’t imagine that, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”

“It’s a date.”

Devina walked out and let the door to the inner office close itself. As she strode through the waiting room, the next client was keeping his head in one of the well-thumbed magazines, like he didn’t want anyone to know he needed a shrink.