Page 20 of Prove Me Wrong
“Even if it was from a man?” Her head tilts to one side, waiting for my answer.
I’m silent, and Charlotte blinks at me. “No.”
Sighing, her red lips pursed. Dark eyes stare back at mine, her deeper skin tone shining beneath the artificial lighting of her office. “I think this is a big step for you, Mia. And you should be proud of yourself for taking this opportunity.” Her tongue swipes her bottom lip, and my hands rise to rub at my elbows, anxiety biting at my insides. “I just want to make sure that you’ll feel comfortable when you’re there.”
“He will be working,” I remind her.
Charlotte nods. “I know, but you will still need to talk with him. Tell him about your day. Will you be okay with that?”
Taking a long moment to think over her words, I dip my chin. “I think so.”
Her smile grows a little, and my anxiety lessens.
“Mia, there’s nothing that you need to worry about.” Her gentle tone rolls out like a wave of calmness. She looks down at my arms.
I pull my hands away and clasp them in my lap, trying to force the comforting habit away.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“Nothing to apologise for. Habits are hard to break, especially when they are attached to anxiety and trauma. It’s all part of your healing.”
My mouth ticks sideways, although I feel like I have failed her once again.Just like my parents.
“Next week we can discuss how you go with Noah and his daughter, but if you need me in the meantime, you have my number. Never hesitate to call me, Mia. That’s what I am here for.
Whether we have a session booked or not, I want you to always be able to reach me.”
I nod again, forcing a smile. “I know. Thank you, Charlotte.”
“Of course. Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your Sunday. And I’m so happy to hear that you’re settling into Barrenridge easily and now making some massive progress. I am proud of you, Mia.”
Warm relief washes over me, cheeks burning. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard someone say those words to me, that might make my eyes water. “Thank you, Charlotte. See you again next Sunday.”
“You betcha,” she chimes before ending the video chat.
Exhaling steadily, I close my laptop and toss it on my bed before slipping on socks and heading out to the kitchen.
Gran is pouring a coffee when I walk in. I grab the cereal from the pantry and make myself a bowl.
“How was therapy?” Gran asks, raspy voice floating in the space between us as she flips through the newspaper.
“Good,” I say through a mouthful of food.
She stares at me. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
My lips quirk as I swallow. “Don’t ask me a questionwhile I'm eating.”
Gran snickers and walks around the island, pulling me into a sideways hug. “I am happy you’re getting some help, dear. You have had a rough couple of years.”
“I know,” I answer dryly. “I'm just worried that maybe I’ve made a mistake by agreeing to this. I mean, I don’t know him very well. What if something happens?”
She sighs. I know it’s just my anxiety feeding me more distressing thoughts, but I hate how controlling it is. “I have known Noah since he was little. He’s a good man, and you helping him shouldn’t make you anxious. I think this might help you get out of your shell a little, and I’ll be here if you need me.”
Rolling my lips, I nod, knowing Gran is right. I shouldn’t be this troubled over a small agreement. But my nerves still vibrate inside, whispering to me how untrustworthy men can be. I try blocking out the hushed voice, but it feels impossible to fully eliminate.
“Every weekend, Joe would sit down to watch Noah's races. Cooked him food, mowed his lawn. He and Noah were friends, and they got along well. Maybe even too well sometimes…”
A smile pulls up my mouth. “I know. Noah told me about Grandad.”
