Page 51 of Goodbye Again
“Your conversation sounded a little intense and rather personal.” She drops the statement with zero inflection, but I swallow hard against the subtle accusation. “You do remember what a dual relationship is, yes?”
I open my mouth to respond but Dr. Flanigan continues. “The doors are thinner than you think, Julia. Be smart.”
I swallow the needles in my throat before managing to say, “Right. Thank you, Dr. Flanigan.”
She leaves my office and I bang my head on my desk.Fuck, fuck, fuck.
My phone buzzes from the floor.
GUY FROM THE PLANE:Can I stop by tonight?
GUY FROM THE PLANE:I’ll bring you food.
He knows the key to my heart. I grab the phone off the floor and respond.
Me:Fine.
Before I can change my mind, the receptionist calls to let me know my next patient is here.
eleven
“I BROUGHT YOU PIZZA,” JP says, holding a box of Giordano’s pizza as he leans his back against the brick of my apartment building.
I freeze—even just the sight of him reminds me of all the reasons why I don’t want to have this conversation.
Finally, I breathe out and say, “You know, you’re turning into a bit of a stalker.”
He laughs.
“That wasn’t a joke.”
He stops laughing, pressing his lips together and stepping closer to me. I feel a shiver from my blazer down to my shoes. “I already know what we need to say, but I wanted to say it in person.”
I nod slowly. “We don’t need to make this a big deal. We’ve known each other for three weeks.” It feels crazy every time I think of our timeline. Only twenty-one days. But knowing we have to say goodbye makes me realize there is now a before JP and an after JP.
“I know. And yet, you took excruciating notes on me.”
I start to smile but restrain it. I say nothing.
“And I still owe you a new rug. Or money to get it professionally clean at the very least.”
At this, I do fully smile. “Right. It’s a very expensive vintage rug I had imported from Italy.”
His jaw slacks.
“It will be very expensive to replace. Twenty grand, at least,” I continue, buzzing into my apartment entrance.
“You’re serious?” I can tell he’s feeling worse about the wine stain he left on my rug three weeks ago.
I give no tells. “Come on, JP. I’m hungry.”
I guide him up to my apartment, and we’re greeted by Kevin wagging his tail and the wine-stained rug finally ridding itself of the pungent smell of fermented grapes and carpet cleaner after days of trying to scrub it out.
“Hey, Kev!” I chirp, scratching his ears. I drop my bag on the floor and reach for Kevin’s leash. “You can set that on the counter. I just have to take him out to go potty really quick.”
I leave with Kevin, who’s tugging obnoxiously in JP’s direction. Kevin isn’t drawn to just anyone, but he clearly likes JP, and I’m struggling to know if it’s something rooted in his nature or if it’s because he got a taste of spilled wine and now understands what all the human fuss is about.
When I return to my apartment with Kevin, JP has made two place settings on the bar top and is opening a bottle of wine.
