Page 10 of Someone Like You

My words were getting to her. I could tell the way she couldn’t keep her ass still in her seat. And yet, I couldn’t stop poking the bear. I wanted to get underneath Dr. Giselle Champagne’s skin in a way that I had never desired to with another woman, not even my wife.

I wanted to see what the good doctor was like when she was riled up. I wanted to see how she reacted when she was angry, turned on, and fucking, out of control in bed. I glanced at those long, pink-tipped fingernails and wondered what they might look like with black satin sheets—my satin sheets—bunched in between them while I drove deep inside of her.

I wondered what she would sound like when I pushed the breath from her lungs and then slowly allowed them to fill up again. There was a mole at the bottom of her chin. I wanted to lick her there and feel her warm breath coating my face as she dropped her mouth open in a hiss or a moan.

“At what point in your marriage did you decide that was what you wanted from a wife, Casimir?”

“It wasn’t at any particular point in my marriage. I always knew that was the type of woman I wanted.”

“And yet, you were willing to risk it all to have your wife.”

“Not to have my wife, but to honor my father’s wishes. There’s a distinct difference. For a long time, I believed that we would fall in love with each other. I grew to love her as a person, but she didn’t reciprocate those feelings. I was never in love with my wife because she didn’t allow me to be. As you’ve seen, Beth has some hateful ways. She was more enamored with the ring on her hand and people calling her ‘Missus’ than she was with the marriage and her commitment to me.”

“Mm . . .” She jotted something on the iPad that she kept at her side.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?”

She looked up at me with those big brown eyes, and curiosity gleamed from them.

“You said, mm. What does that mean?”

Giselle blinked rapidly and shook her head. “Nothing. I just noted that your perception of how she views the marriage has nothing to do with you.”

“And that’s how I feel,” I stated with a shrug.

I placed my arms across the back of the couch and propped my ankle over my knee.

“I wonder how she views the marriage. Or maybe I should say, I wonder how she thinks you view the marriage.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“That’s a problem, don’t you think?”

“Why?”

“Maybe that’s a conversation you should have with her. Let’s make that your homework assignment.”

“I think you like giving homework, Dr. Champagne.”

She lifted her eyebrows at me. “Doctor?”

“Just whenever you start acting like one. You don’t always act like that.”

“This isn’t about me, Casimir. It’s about you and Beth.”

“Do you seek therapy?”

“Excuse me?”

“For your problems. Who do you talk to?”

“Casimir, I think you’re losing focus of this session.”

“No, seriously. Who do you go to? You carry the weight of all your clients’ problems on your shoulders. You listen, you guide, you provide feedback, and you help us navigate the tumultuous storms of our lives. Yet, when you walk away from here, after watching people struggle with depression, sorrow, regret, confusion, and all the other human emotions we experience, how do you discard that weight? Who listens to you and comforts you? Who guides you and gives you peace? Who do you pour into so that your cup isn’t overflowing with the stress of others? Who comforts you when you’re feeling all alone, Giselle?”

Giselle’s eyes roamed the room and looked everywhere but at me. When they finally stopped, I noticed that she did so on my ring finger. For a while, she did not speak, but when she did, her voice was cracked and slightly broken.

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