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Dr. Fisher wrote down some notes. When she turned around, she said, “Why don’t you both come to my office? I have some things I’d like to discuss with you.”
I stiffened. “Um, no offense, Dr. Fisher, but isn’t having Wesley in my appointment a HIPAA violation?”
“You recently listed him as your emergency contact,” she reminded me.
She was getting on my nerves again. “Is this an emergency?”
“Not yet. But what happened to you last night qualifies as one.” She gave me a long look. “Would you agree to grant him permission to join us?”
I glanced at Wes. “I guess so.”
After Dr. Fisher left, I stood and grabbed my things, waiting for Wesley to excuse himself from my appointment. When he didn’t, I put my hands on my hips. “Why are you in here?”
He looked down at his shoes. “I…called the doctor this morning. And asked if we could both meet with her.”
“Wes. Look at me.”
He looked up, but his expression wasn’t as guilty as I’d hoped.
“I’m worried about you, and since you’re not sharing details, I thought it would be a good idea if I met with Dr. Fisher.” His chin was set stubbornly. “I need to hear what she has to say about this—if you need help, I want to give it to you.”
“That’s sweet, but you don’t have the right—”
“I’m asking you for the right. Begging, actually.” He came over and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’m not trying to get all in your business or be controlling. I just want you to be safe.”
He kissed the top of my head, and I groaned. I didn’t want him here, but I felt good in his arms—safe, secure, and utterly protected. I wanted to argue with him, but I felt too loved.
It was official: I was getting spoiled, all soft and spongy because he kept taking care of me and being all hot, sexy, and protective.
Where’s my damned checklist?
“Fine. But I think you should have asked my permission before you crashed my appointment.”
“Would you have let me come?”
“No,” I admitted.
“If it gets too personal and you want me to leave, I promise I will. But if she wants to talk about precautions we can take to prevent anxiety and panic attacks, and things we need to look out for, I want to be part of the conversation. Do I have permission for that?”
He leaned down and kissed me, and I had that feeling again. Safe. Warm. Worshipped. I should be pushing him away right now, punishing him for overstepping boundaries, but I just wanted to pull him closer. Grr.
“Okay. But let’s get this over with.”
* * *
WES
Hannah wouldn’t look at me as the driver took us across town to my appointment at El Camino.
I put my hand gently over hers. “Going to couples’ therapy is not the end of the world, you know.”
“Maybe not, but the fact that Lauren called Dr. Fisher and asked her to refer us to a therapist? That might be the end of the world.” Hannah shook her head. “Just wait till I get my hands on her.”
“She’s worried about you—she’s just trying to help.” I remembered Lauren’s words again from this morning and my stomach turned, but I ignored it.
“Butting in on my business—our business—is not helping.”
“Hannah?” I waited until she turned to me. “I told Lauren it was okay. She asked me if I thought it was a good idea this morning. I said I didn’t know, but that if it would help, we should try.”
