by Nana Malone
Abbie…
"So how are things with you and the young man?"
I shifted uncomfortably on my seat. Way to just go in for the pain, Doc. "Um, Alexi is fine. I guess."
Dr. Kaufman slid her glasses to the tip of her nose, making her look somehow older and wiser than she probably was. "Don't deflect. What's going on?"
I rolled my shoulders. "Ah, he's… God, I don't even know how to explain him."
"Are you following the same patterns?"
I frowned. "I feel like I am.”
“Explain.”
“The thing is he’s different. He's the kind of boyfriend most people would want. He's attentive, and sweet, and fun, and he listens. He really listens."
Dr. Kaufman sat back and pushed her glasses back up her nose. "So, what's the problem?"
"The problem is he's rich and entitled. And he's possessive. So possessive."
She lifted a brow.
"There's a part of him that's just so sure we're supposed to be together. The other day, there was this prank. This photography group grabbed me, and we spent the day and the biggest part of the night taking pictures. I texted that I’d be late, and he called the police.”
She frowned. “Because you were late?”
Heat crept up my neck. “Well, I—” I took a deep breath. “I was gone for a day and a night. He freaked out because I’d told him about my history with Easton.”
“So you were gone for a day and a night, and he didn’t know where you were, and then he called the police. I assume other steps were taken?”
I swallowed. “Yes. He tried to find me, as did my flatmate. But then he overreacted.”
“You think he overreacted?”
“What was I supposed to do? I couldn't call because my phone was dead. The next thing I know, he's mobilized my roommate, my friends, and the police. He was out for blood, ready to kill anyone who might have hurt me."
Dr. Kaufman nodded slowly. "And this possessiveness you speak about, is this how Easton would act?"
I frowned at that. "Easton was different. It was more about him having to know where I was. He certainly would never call the police. But he would've called my friends, but not because he was worried, but more because he was angry."
"And this young man, Alexi, was he angry?"
I nodded. "He was furious. But not at me.” I felt the need to explain him somehow. Even though his anger scared me. "He was furious at the group that took me in the first place, and that they scared me, that he didn't know where I was. I think he was scared for me."
Dr. Kaufman nodded. "Do you see the similarities in their responses?"
I nodded. "Of course. And it frightens me."
“And how are they different?”
"Look, I know that they're different. They're different men with different intentions. But I can't help my reaction. I walked into my flat and the police were there, and his best friend, my best friend, and everybody was standing around worried, and I didn't like it."
"What didn't you like about it?"
"I felt like I wasn't free. That I wasn't my own person."
"Okay. Did you feel like you were in danger? Did you feel like he was trying to control where you went?"
"I—" I considered this. I thought it through. "No, I don't think he was trying to control where I went. But he completely overreacted. And I don't want to be controlled. I don't like it."
"That's good that you know what you don't like. That's one of the key things. But why do you equate what he did to what Easton would have done?"
"He was so mad. I just kept waiting for him to lash out, to be angry."
"Did he put his hands on you?"
I shook my head. "No."
"Did he express anger toward you?"
I frowned. "No, but he was angry."
"Okay, what was he angry at?"
I ran my hand through my braids. "He was worried. Scared. It’s just that kind of intensity… I don't understand it, and it scares me. I don't want to get caught up in the same kind of Easton thing."
She inhaled a deep breath and then sat forward. She studied me very closely before pulling her glasses off. "Abena, while I do have some reservations about the level of intensity between you and this young man, I want you to start getting to a place where you realize their actions are different. As are their motivations. What would have happened with Easton if you'd walked in after twenty-four hours of no call and no contact?"
I swallowed hard. "He would have been furious. I would've been bloody for weeks. I was scared to ever let my phone die."
"Right. You learned to never let your phone die. And with this young man, while unintentional, your phone did die. What happened?"
I shrugged. "He overreacted and called the police."
"Yes, and what else?"
I swallowed. "Nothing."
She raised a brow.
I pursed my lips. Why couldn’t I just hide? I hated therapy. No you don’t. “Okay, I pushed him away and told him it was too much and we needed to put on the brakes.”
"Yes.” She twirled her pen. “What were you feeling when you saw that Alexi had mobilized everyone to find you?"
I sighed. "I felt safe. Wanted. Taken care of."
"And you don't trust it?"
I shook my head. In for a penny in for a pound. "No, not really."
"Has he ever given you any indication that you can't trust him?"
I shook my head. "No. But Easton was like that in the beginning."
Her patience with me alone was worth every penny. "I want you to think about that over the next couple of weeks until I see you again. I want you to really examine that. With Easton, were there any red flags? Things that you saw but dismissed. Things that you ignored, things that you would rewind the clock and go back to."
I nodded. "I mean, I guess there were. I just— I don't want to get caught in that position again."
"I agree. I don't think you should get caught in that position. I encourage you to date this young man because I think you need to experience life. I think it's good for you. I also think it's good for you to set boundaries about what you're looking for and what you're not looking for."
"I was clear. I don't want anyone that rich, or titled, or possessive. And I've got that guy. And how did I end up here?"
She shrugged. "Of all those things, what is the actual problem?"
I didn't like this part of therapy. This forcing myself to open up and glare down at things that scared me. I wasn't a fan. "I don't like the possessiveness. That's what scared me the most."
"Okay, have you had a conversation about that?"
"No."
"Don't you think maybe you should?"
I shook my head. "I don't want to hurt him."
"Right. You don't want to hurt him, but what about you? Maybe you don't want to set the boundaries for yourself?"
"I don't know. I don't even know how to begin having that conversation without fear."
"Okay, that’s understandable. But does it do you any good to hide how you feel?"
"Ah, I mean, I guess I could."
"What would be the worst thing that could happen if you said, I don't like the possessiveness, and it concerns me."
"It could end up like Easton. I could be trapped."
"Or?"
I swallowed hard. "I could hurt him, and he could leave me."
She nodded. "Right. So, that is your real fear?"
"Oh my God, what is wrong with me?"
Her smile was soft and warm. "Honestly, nothing that hasn't been wrong with women for centuries. We want some things that we're afraid to ask for. If you care about this young man, have a conversation with him. If you are legitimately afraid of him, have a friend be there, or tell him you can't see him anymore. But if you are afraid of your past, this is the only way forward… before it costs you your future."
"I'm scared."
"That's good. It's good to say that. To experience the emotion. You let yourself feel that
. Are you scared of him or scared of your feelings?"
"I'm scared of my feelings. I don't want to feel like this. I've been burned."
"Haven't we all? Now granted, you have been burned more severely than most. Just see what happens when you talk to him. You don't know him until you see his response. And then we'll move on from there. Because what's the worst that could happen? You ask him for what you want. Do you get it?"
She had a point. My whole life, I'd always been afraid to ask for what I wanted. Terrified. There were ramifications. It meant I'd be unloved. Because when I did ask for what I wanted, my family shunned me, my boyfriend hit me, and my life crumbled. And so now, to ask for a little bit of breathing room, while also having the man, that scared me. And I had no idea how to go about doing that.
"Can I ask him to do something easier?"
She chuckled softly. "No. Because you're trying to grow. You're trying to be the best version of you. And one of those things is being able to ask for what you want. Now, I'm not going to say you're going to ask for these things without fear. There's always an element of that. But remember that courage is not being afraid; it's being afraid of managing that, right?"
I crossed my arms. "I'm not sure I like you."
She laughed. "You know, you are not the first patient to tell me that."
Chapter Five
Abbie
I was nervous.
I’d known I was making a mistake when I pushed Alexi away, but to have Dr. Kaufman reiterate that to me made me angry and ashamed.
I had a perfectly good man in front of me. One who had turned over every stone to find me and keep me safe instead of turning every stone over so he could hurt me. And I’d rejected him.
Like an idiot.
So I was going to say sorry. When I texted Sophie to ask her what one wears for a mea culpa, her response was to be expected. Stilettos, trench coat, nothing else.
Even I wasn't that badass. Besides, what if he was angry enough with me to not speak to me, which he was within his rights too. Then I’d be stuck in the middle of London… in no panties and a trench coat.
After a night and a full day of thinking through what Dr. Kaufman said, I really had to confront the fact that he was different from Easton.
That I felt different when I was with him. And while the force of the pull between us terrified the hell out of me, his actions were about concern not about control. And I needed to find a way to trust myself and my ability to communicate with him when I felt like I was being stifled.
Just because he had a strong personality didn't mean he was a controlling asshole. Possessive, maybe. Controlling, no.
I did opt for stilettos, but I couldn't very well wear nothing, so I chose a slinky red dress instead. The kind of thing I was getting used to wearing now.
When I stepped onto the barge, I had to steady myself for the gentle rocking. This was something out of French movies. Barges on the Seine that were beautifully decorated and well appointed. Replace the Seine with the Thames, and this glorified houseboat was incredible. Just how rich was he?
There were a few other barges docked at Oyster Pier. Sophie had said technically this area was the Left Bank. Faith had said Battersea. Either way, as I walked up, I knew I was in for something wholly different.
With a deep breath, I sucked it up. Because if you couldn't wear big girl panties and apologize, then what was the point? At the top of the plank, I knocked, praying that he would be home. I’d seen his car in the parking lot, so I knew that he was at least in the vicinity. But what if he'd gone for a run? Or was at a friend’s place? Or what if he was at Xander’s? Or what if he had a girl over?
Just because you had a fight, it doesn't mean he's got a girl over.
Just because Easton would tell me that I was replaceable all the time, it didn't mean that Alexi felt the same way. It looked like I had a lot of baggage to unpack in this whole relationship thing.
Finally, I heard footsteps, and a cold sweat broke out on my skin. Oh God, was it too late to run away? How far could I really get in my stilettos?
I looked down at my heels and realized I wouldn't get very far in these shoes. When Alexi tugged the door open, he was wet and in a towel.
Holy hell. I swallowed hard. "Oh, uh, hi. I— I’m sorry. I guess I should have called."
His brows lifted. "Abbie, I didn't expect to see you."
"If you're busy, I'll just go—" Because when in doubt, run.
He shook his head. "I'm not busy. I was just in the shower, clearly."
My gaze rolled over his broad shoulders and then flickered over his chiseled chest with the Gemini tattoo and the dusting of hair that led to very well-defined abs and an intriguing happy trail.
Focus.
I snapped my gaze up to his to find a smirk on that pretty mouth, then he lifted a brow and said, "Ah, right. Okay. Come in."
I nodded slowly. “Right, sure.” So far, I was really winning at the convo starters.
"Is everything okay?” The concern crept into his voice, and I was quick to assure him.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just, um, I just wanted to talk to you."
"Why don't I go throw some clothes on?"
My disappointment was palpable. "No, you don't have to do that on my account."
This time he grinned. "You want to have this conversation with me in a towel?"
My gaze flicked over him again, and I nodded even as I said, "No."
He crossed his arms then, and the motion made his biceps bulge. "So, which is it? Do you want me to put clothes on or don't you?"
"Um, yyy… no. Yes. Yes. Yes, of course. You be as comfortable as you want to be. It's your house. Er, barge. Whatever."
Still chuckling to himself, he headed to the right into what was probably the bedroom area. "I'll be right back."
Once he was gone, I let myself fully freak out about my surroundings. For starters, his living room, dining room, and kitchen area were an open-concept design, modern enough to make most HGTV enthusiasts proud.
The area was huge. Inside, it was nearly as big as my parents’ house. Hardwood floors met steel and glass and gorgeous white granite in the kitchen, with what looked like oak paneling around the island.
Brass fixtures hung as pendant lights both over the island and the smaller dining area.
While the color palette was mostly white and grey, he’d warmed up the space by adding some of Xander’s work to the walls and plush, soft looking fabrics in the living room throws and pillows.
I couldn't help but nose around the barge. On the bookshelves, there were a few knick-knacks, but mostly there were photos. Xander’s prints were nearly as recognizable to me as my own work. Even though I’d never seen these, there was something about the style. There were also a couple of framed photos on the shelves. Him and Xander. Him, Nick, and Gemma. His mother. But mostly, there were books. Yes, there was the obvious smattering of business books but also Hemingway and Austen. The Austen confused me. But there was also Orwell and Bradbury.
"I see you found the books."
I nodded slowly. "I like it. Some of my favorites are shelved here."
He'd changed into jeans and a snug-fitting henley that did nothing to hide his ridiculous body. "My mother has a thing about books. They’re her escape. She has passed on that love to me and Xander, I guess."
I turned and nodded. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snoop."
He shook his head. "I mean, they wouldn't be on display if I didn't want you to look. Besides, I figured you would have already had your opportunity to snoop if I’d had you by the other night.”
Ouch. Direct hit.
"Right. Um, so I just—" Now that I was here in front of him, I didn't know what to say or how to act. It all felt new and confusing and awkward as hell.
"Would you like some tea? A drink?"
I shook my head. "Um, no thanks. I—" He stood perfectly still, patient, watching me. I could still feel the tension vibrating between us. "Okay, I'm sorry. I don't kno
w how to do this. But I want to apologize."
His brow lifted. "For what?"
"I shouldn't have been angry with you. You were worried about me, and I get that."
He nodded slowly. "I was worried about you."
"I just walked in and there were all those people, and I freaked. And it’s not your fault. It’s me and the caravan of baggage I have behind me. I know you’re not him. I know you were acting out of concern, and you weren’t looking to control me. It’s just in the moment, I started to feel claustrophobic and panicked." I shrugged. “It felt eerily similar to many other times when I wasn’t exactly where I was supposed to be and Easton would rally the troops. And it would look like concern, but after… There would be pain.”
He inhaled deeply then let the air out slowly. "I would never hurt you. I want to give you the assurance you need about that, but I don’t know how. I’m not him, Abbie. We have completely different motivations."
"I know. I'm just now becoming aware of it really, I guess. Everything from my past colors every decision I make, everything I do, and you and I—it's inexplicable. And it is terrifying because I want to be around you all the time, and it was intense, and—" I shook my head. "I can’t even describe it. When I'm near you, it just feels like I'm supposed to be there, and that scares me too because I have lost myself before in one relationship, and I know that this is a very different scenario.”
“It is.”
“Logically, I know that. And it feels different. But I don’t know what to do with the intensity between us. So it was easier to push you away instead of examining all the feelings individually."
"Look, I know I overreacted. I was just concerned. But I’m not going to pretend that I wouldn’t do it all over again the exact same way. You don’t believe me yet, but I really care about you. And if you're hurt or need something, I will be right there. And I’ll work as long as it takes to try to convince you of that."
I nodded. “I met with Dr. Kaufman, and she had me really look at my motivation and how I needed to own the place I've come from and not from the place of the embarrassment of everyone knowing my business. I need to look at it as something that could give me strength to not make the same choices.”
