Page 7 of Fauxmance

My second: This sucks.

Okay, it was dumb. My therapist had an unforeseen emergency, and I didn't blame her at all for closing shop early. I really did hope that she and her family were well. But gah, I'd been ready to purge myself of all the bad things. The best part about therapy was the release. Getting to let go of what weighed me down, the relief that followed. Talking was a powerful tool—when you had someone to listen.

Closing my eyes, I pressed my forehead to the wood and sighed.

"Is this a test?" I said. "Because if it is, I think I'm failing."

All was quiet, and I may or may not have banged my head against the door a few times. I didn't expect an answer. But then…

"Failure is a natural part of life," a deep voice said.

I froze.

"What's important is how you deal with it."

My eyelids opened, inch by inch, and when I caught sight of the owner of that voice, I thought for sure I was hallucinating.

His lips kicked up in a grin.

"At least that's what my mom says."

A guy, who couldn't have been much older than me, stood near the entrance to the waitingroom. He was the textbook definition of tall,darkand handsome. Six-foot-two with dark hair and piercing gray eyes. He was wearing jeans and a black band t-shirt, but his jaw was like something out of a Jane Austen novel. I had the strangest thought then. Did they actually make men like this anymore?

My hallucination frowned.

"Hey, you okay?" he said.

"Fine," I replied then straightened to my full height. He still had me by at least a foot. "I was just resting my eyes."

The guy lifted a brow. "While standing up?"

"Yeah, it helps with the circulation."

"And talking to yourself? Does that also improve blood flow?"

The guy's lips twitched, and I rolled my eyes.

"Okay, fine. You caught me," I said, gesturing to the door. "My therapist cancelled our appointment, and I was having a moment. I thought I was alone."

He nodded. "I figured."

"Were you here to see Dr. M, too?"

"Actually, I saw her earlier," he said then walked forward to retrieve something from one of the waiting chairs. "Came back to get my jacket. Didn't realize I'd left it until I was about to drive off."

So this seemingly well-adjusted, too-gorgeous stranger had gotten a chance to spill his guts to my doctor, but I hadn't? Was there no justice in the world?

"Is that your car out front? I think you've got a flat."

And there was my answer.

"Yeah, thanks, I know," I muttered. "I bet you felt awesome after having talked to the doc, huh?"

"I guess."

Shaking off my bitterness, I pointed over his shoulder. "Well, it was nice meeting you. I should get going."

"I've got to run, too," he said. "Family dinner. Wish I could miss it."

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