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I am so angry in that moment. So angry—angry enough to shove Gabe out my door.
‘Nothing’s wrong.’
‘I saw your girlfriend,’ he says scathingly, and because I don’t think of Holly in that way it takes me a second to understand his meaning—and to unpack the consequences.
‘Holly?’
‘Yes, Holly. How many doctors are you sleeping with?’
Jesus. ‘She told you about us?’
‘Sì.’
Immediately I see it from Gabe’s perspective. Gabe with his black and white morality. Everything is right and wrong with him; there is no middle ground. It won’t matter to him that Holly refused to take me on as a patient. All Gabe will see is that he found me a doctor, the best doctor for men like me, and she screwed me.
‘It’s not her fault,’ I hear myself say, my head ripping itself apart. Fine beads of sweat have broken out on my forehead. I collapse onto the sofa, lying back and throwing a forearm over my eyes.
‘She chose to sleep with you, did she not? After you went to her for therapy?’
‘I wanted her,’ I say. Annoyed to be talking about this with Gabe. Annoyed to be talking about Holly as though she’s erred in any way. ‘You know how persuasive I can be.’
‘She’s a psychologist. She should have known better.’
‘She did. I didn’t consult her professionally. From the first moment I saw her, it was just about sex.’ Saying that hollows me out completely. About sex? Holly? It was so much more than that, but I can’t define how and why.
‘Jesus, man. You can sleep with anyone you want. Why the doctor I found to help you?’
‘I told you, I wanted her...’
Gabe grimaces, grinding his teeth together. ‘She should have known better.’
‘She did! She knew it was wrong...’
‘But still acted on her feelings,’ Gabe says scathingly. ‘Anyway. I don’t give a shit about your sex life. I care about your head. What’s going on with you, man?’
‘Nothing.’ I’m sullen. Angry. Hungover as hell.
‘Liar.’ Gabe spins away from me, stalking to the other side of the room. ‘You need help. I can’t help you. She can’t help you. No one can until you decide you want that.’
He stalks to the door of my apartment, staring at me angrily. ‘You owe it to yourself, and me, to see the guy she suggested. Until you sort your shit out, don’t bother coming in to work.’
I stand up, my head spinning, ready to fight him, ready to fight anyone.
‘Don’t.’ Gabe lifts a finger. ‘Don’t give in to that impulse. You know I’m right.’
But he doesn’t leave. He stares at me for a moment, long and hard, and then he walks back to me and wraps me in a hug. I can’t remember the last time we did this. It’s been years. But he hugs me and a strange lurching grief spasms in my chest.
I pull away from him, shovin
g my hands into my pockets.
‘How was she?’
He doesn’t immediately answer. ‘You can’t think of her. There’ll be plenty of women once you get yourself sorted.’
‘How was she?’ I repeat more emphatically.
He sighs. ‘I don’t know her well enough to say. She was quiet. Obviously concerned for you.’
