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After I finished, an overwhelming urge of sweetness swept over me and I leaned forward to gently tuck the whisp of her hair back in place. My fingers brushed over the shell of Amelia’s ear and I watched with wonder as she tried to suppress a shudder, whispering, “What do you say, Red?”
I hoped I hadn’t overstepped after how well we’d been getting along, and Amelia’s answer justified those fears. “I-I’ll have to think about it, Mr. Adams.” She sat up and pulled away, leaving me to set my right foot back on the floor and readjust myself in my seat. There was an unspoken question hanging in the air between us and without prompting, Amelia continued, “That’s just a lot to ask. I mean, I have other patients, other obligations, and I can’t just drop them with a second’s notice.”
“I understand,” I murmured, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice. “Take all the time you need.”
The rest of our session progressed as normal, even though I couldn’t shake the feeling that Amelia was deliberately attempting to avoid me because my request had been too bold. I left her office that afternoon with a heavy heart.
Amelia
I couldn’t help it—the second Josh’s offer left his lips, I felt my guts seize up like they did on the crest of a rollercoaster. It was true that he’d become easier to be around lately, even though I still dreaded having to maintain my poker face whenever he complimented me, so my hesitation wasn’t because I completely disliked him.
Of course, he was still the rich, married asshole I’d met a few months ago, but I was beginning to tolerate his company despite my best efforts. I still hadn’t figured out why he was behaving like a panther lying in wait for the kill—that had to be why I needed time to think about his request.
There was something about Josh that scared me, a loss of control or utter submission that I knew he would demand from me someday. And based on the dreams I’d had about him, when the time came I knew I’d probably offer little resistance. It was a disastrous prediction, one which seemed all the more real if I agreed to work with him at his house.
I sat at Natalie and Benjamin’s dining table, enjoying cold pizza in an empty apartment, and considered what I’d be temporarily leaving behind. As one of the youngest physical therapists with the kind of resume I had, in a few years I would be able to have my pick of careers at a variety of well-known clinics. If I worked with Josh exclusively, even for a few months, would that ruin my chances at having a profitable career?
And where would I live after Josh was done with his treatment? I certainly wasn’t about to move out of our apartment only to move back in a year later and interrupt Natalie and Benjamin’s lives.
Clearly, if this was going to work, I would need to set clear expectations like I had for our appointments. Setting the slice I was munching on back on my plate, I wiped my greasy fingers on a napkin before heading over to the junk drawer to root for scratch paper and a pencil.
When I found them, I returned to my seat and began a numbered list of things to talk about with Josh before I agreed to his proposition:
Is his wife okay with this arrangement?
What would the exact terms be (i.e. how often would I be expected to be on call, would there be rooms in the house I wouldn’t be allowed in, should I expect to cover my own food)?
How long would I stay?
Breathing out, I felt much calmer about the situation now that I had the basic questions written down. The only one I neglected to add was about Josh’s flirtatious nature—I didn’t want to be screamed at by his wife for his behavior. But I hoped that having his wife there would be enough of a deterrent, even though I secretly liked Josh’s praise and enticing body language.
Opening up my computer, I quickly emailed the list to Josh and sat staring at my screen. Was I really going to do this? Of course, the final person I would need approval from was Dr. Morales, and as soon as I remembered that detail, dread pitted in my stomach.
How would I explain, to a man I had a crush on and who probably shared my feelings, that I was going on a leave of absence for at least six months to care for another man in his home? Even if I ignored the romantic facets of that dilemma, I would be costing our clinic my time and effort and I was sure they would struggle with one less therapist there.
Closing my laptop, I picked up my phone and headed for my room, determined to drown out my overwrought mind for a few hours.
The next morning, I awoke to an email from Josh:
Hi Amelia,
Thank you for sending these. I hope my answers are sufficient in helping you make up your mind.
Laila is perfectly fine with what I proposed. She will rarely be home due to her travel schedule.
I am open to negotiating the “exact terms,” but in general, you will be paid5x your current salary for, at most, an hour of work every day. The house would be yours to live in and you would be welcome to stock our fridge/pantry with whatever your heart desires.
As long as you want.
All the best,
Josh
I giggled at how dry and succinct his reply was when, in person, Josh practically oozed charisma even when he was annoyed with me. Reading his answers over once and then twice to make sure I wasn’t imagining the large amount of money he had mentioned, I decided all there was left to do was speak to my boss.
At work that day during my lunch break, I knocked on Dr. Morales’s door before poking my head in. “Hey, Santiago. Can I talk to you about something?”
His expressive, dark eyes met mine as he smiled. “Of course,querida. Please, come in.”
