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I shake my head. “You’ve already used your spoiled princess card on Emma today.” I reach around her to grab my glasses, putting them back on. “I can’t concede to two tantrums in one day.”
“Why not?”
“Because then you’ll get used to it.” I slide my hands up her thighs until my fingers reach her ass. “And I can’t have that.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I’ll kill Dr. Karls.”
“No, Kayla,” I huff. “You’re not killing her.”
“I will if you make me go.”
“Okay, then to make sure you don’t, I’ll stay for the whole session. That way, I can stop you.”
I can’t stay, I have too much to do. But she doesn’t need to know that right now.
She rolls her eyes, knowing she doesn’t have a choice anymore. “Fine. I’m going and I won’t kill her. Happy?”
“Good girl.”
“I hate you.”
“Kiss me like you do,” I rasp.
She doesn’t kiss me like she hates me at all. In fact, she kisses me like she’s feeling quite the opposite.
32
KAYLA
Coming Down - Halsey
“Mrs. White?”
“King,” I correct the second Dr. Karls’s secretary advances toward me.
She nods, smiling politely. “I apologize, but Dr. Karls just had a health emergency and had to leave the office.”
I hope she’s dying. But then I’d have to explain to Nate that I had nothing to do with it.
“Oh.” I’ve been waiting here for fifteen minutes, and Nate won’t be back until the hour-long session is supposed to be over. “So…I can leave?”
Her brow furrows. Fuck, that sentence sounded weird. When the hell did I start asking permission? Nate has been ruining me.
“I mean, I’ll just leave, then.” I stand up, holding the bag Nate gifted me. It only has my phone and the credit card he’s given me. It’s stupid, too big for just those, but I need it since the dresses he buys me have no pockets. Ridiculous shit.
My heels click as I exit the waiting room. I can’t believe I can walk in these now. They’re not very high, small-heeled, pointed white slingbacks that go perfectly with the red dress I’m wearing. If it was up to me, they’d be in the trash, but my husband likes me in them.
I catch myself in the mirror of the practice’s entrance hall as I leave. The last time I was in this building, I was with Nate, and I didn’t even notice that mirror was here.
My stomach twists.
Who the fuck is this woman?
My hair is shiny and curled, because I’m still not allowed out of the house unless he lets me. I try to call my mom every morning before preschool, but it’s not always possible. I sneak to a different part of the house with my phone so I can talk to my girls. But once that’s done…that’s it. I slip back into bed and wake up later. And then…then I have time. I have time to do my hair in the morning. That had never happened before.
My dress looks perfect on me because Nate sends someone to the house to get my clothes fitted. My shoes look expensive, my handbag too.
My features have softened. I sleep more. I don’t have the stress of people relying on me any longer. My face looks more relaxed. Being taken care of all day, every day, instead of taking care of others, does something for you. I feel it in the way I hold myself straighter.
