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The professional building that my new therapist’s office was in had a common waiting area, with halls going off to the various offices, ranging from therapists to dentists to lawyers.
I wondered if there were ever any mix ups. The thought made me smile. Someone leaning back in a dentist’s chair, pouring their heart out about their problems.
One of the professionals on the listing, Dr. Anderson, was a couples’ therapist. I sure could have used that with Kenny. Maybe then he wouldn’t have fucked my little sister.
The idea still made me feel icky. Not only the betrayal, but Kenny had been older than me, nearly 35, and that had felt like a barely acceptable age gap. Raquel was only a couple years younger than me, but he was old enough to be her teenaged dad.
“Maggie Sanders,” I said to the receptionist at the shared reception desk when I arrived in front of it.
“You’re a bit early but we will call you when the therapist is ready for you,” she said.
I was glad to hear that, as it gave me time to run to the bathroom beforehand. On my way back out, I all but ran into the hottest guy I’d ever seen!
He was walking away from having just checked in at the reception desk, though I couldn’t imagine what he might need help with. He looked pretty damn good from where I was standing. Very tall and leanly muscled, he had dirty blond, nearly reddish, hair and blue eyes that nearly knocked me down when he turned them on me.
He took a seat and then it quickly turned into a not-staring-contest as we both tried to hide the fact that we were looking. Though what he saw in me, I wasn’t quite sure. I had big boobs and curves but I was pretty overweight and was hardly the prettiest girl in the city. A 7 at most, in a town known for being full of 10s.
As the damned fates would have it, just then, Kenny walked in, with what I had come to think of as his child bride.
What the fuck are they doing here? I thought.
I did my best to pretend I didn’t see them and hurried over to sit down. Mr. Sexy Pants nodded at me, as though telling me that he wanted me to sit with him. Not one to defy such a sign, I did so, marveling at the timing.
The hottest guy I had ever seen was hitting on me after six months of swearing off guys altogether, at the same time my back-stabbing sister and fucking bastard of an ex turned up to try and ruin my life all over again.
I tried to deny it, but they had clearly spotted me. I could smell them as they approached. They both stank of Kenny’s cologne, which I could still remember and sniff out from a mile away.
Her idea, no doubt. She could always be pretty tacky.
“Well, hello, sister dear,” Raquel said, in a way that made me want to slap her.
“Who are you here to see?” the receptionist asked brusquely, as if herself already sick of Raquel.
“Dr. Anderson,” Kenny said, after coughing slightly.
He was looking at me a bit forlornly.
Why the heck were they there to see the couples’ therapist? Were they having trouble already?
I would be lying if I said the idea didn’t make me smile a bit. But she sounded so proud when she said it.
“For pre-marital counselling – nothing wrong, of course,” Raquel quickly followed up. “Everything’s great and we can’t wait to get married! It’s just standard procedure in our church to have all the couple go through counseling before the reverend will marry us.”
“What church is that?” I blurted, “the First Congregation of the Backstabbing Harpies?”
Under the admittedly clever vitriol, I was hurt. Not just from the fronting – Raquel had always been an atheist, and had hardly lived life as some kind of religious person, so this must have been Kenny’s parents’ doing, since they were pretty devout – but because they were getting married so quickly.
“Everyt’ing okay, darlin’?” Mr. Sexy Pants asked, no doubt noticing the shade of red I had turned.
And I couldn’t help but notice his Irish accent. It drenched my panties, right away.
“That’s my scumbag ex and my scumbag step sister. He cheated on me with her,” I whispered to him, under my breath.
“Oh.”
He looked concerned, which was nice of him.
“Can we pretend to be deep in conversation?” I asked, feeling desperate.
“Well, aren’t we?” he asked, with a wink that made me want to kiss him right then and there.
“Yes, we are,” I said, winking back.
“I really t’ink it was a wee mistake, casting feckin’ DiCaprio in the lead in Gangs O’ New York,” he quickly improvised, as if picking up a conversation we had been in the middle of. “He did okay, but come on! T’ere are lots o’ bankable actors wi’ real Irish accents. And having Daniel Day Lewis play da true blue American, it felt like opposite day! Yet somehow it worked and I still love the feckin’ t’ing. Saved almost single-handedly by Liam Neeson and Brendan Gleeson. Hey, t’at rhymes! I just noticed t’at. The less said about Cameron Diaz, the better, though.”
