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“Huh? Oh right, I don’t know how we missed each other. I was belting it out with the singer all night.”
Stella laughs, and I try to focus on the fact that for the first time since I met her, she’s actually happy. Dante may be a dick, but Luca treats her like she’s bathed in gold and propped atop a marble pedestal. That’s the kind of guy I need to put a ring on my finger.
Then again, I’m not exactly the marrying type. The idea of being tied down to one man for the rest of my life is terrifying, and kids are completely horrifying. Guess I’ll stick with my hot assholes for now. And buy my own rings. As soon as I can afford one.
Crap, that reminds me. I need to find a paying part-time job ASAP.
“Rose, are you listening to me?”
I still my rambling thoughts and focus on my friend. “Yeah, sorry, I’m just walking up to Dr. Winchester’s office. Can I call you later?”
“Sure, but not too late. I’m like six hours ahead of you.” She pauses and lets out a curse. “Don’t try to calculate where I am please.”
“I won’t, even though now it’s all I want to do.”
“You just can’t resist the forbidden fruit, can you?”
“Damn right, girl.” I blow her a kiss into the phone. “Ciao,bella. Enjoy your fiancé and remember, no Italian babies! You must at least walk down the aisle with that gorgeous and insanely expensive white gown Luca’s going to buy you before you start popping out kids.”
She laughs again. “Right, love you, Rose. Be good.”
“Same to you, Stel. Byeee!” I slip my phone into my jacket pocket and whip the front door of Dr. Winchester’s practice open. She scored a ground level office which means her patients don’t have to trudge through the main entrance of the building. Privacy is key. Some of her clients are in the upper echelons of Manhattan’s elite: doctors, lawyers, even senators.
I know this because I’d screwed around with quite a few before Dr. Mark, the stalker. Now, I’ve sworn off all patients, and I intend to stick with it.
“Morning, Rose.” The receptionist offers me a smile as I shrug out of my hot pink puffer jacket.
“Hey, Mary.” I hang it up and sneak by the one patient already sitting in the waiting room. Then I slip behind the door into the back and start chatting with the girl. Dr. Winchester hasn’t arrived yet. It’s my job to onboard the new patient, scan over the forms and present my initial observations. It’s all part of my fabulous internship experience. As much as I complain, I know I lucked out with the doc. She’s pretty chill and lets me get away with a lot.
“Here’s her paperwork.” Mary ticks her head toward the thick, double-paned frosted glass window, and I glance out into the waiting room at the new patient. I open it a crack and study the young woman scrolling through her phone. Most of our patients are older, but this girl looks about my age, mid-twenties at most.
Who am I to be judgey? I’ve been in therapy for years.
I glance at the name in the file and open the window all the way. “Come on in, Ms. Jordan, we can get started.”
The young woman pushes back the curtain of auburn locks and bright green eyes find mine. “Great, thanks.”
I lead her down the quiet hallway to the room Dr. Winchester has set up to look like a cozy sitting room. There’s a fireplace, a worn leather couch and a steady flow of lavender and chamomile pumped into the space for maximum relaxation.
“You’re awfully young to be a psychologist, aren’t you?” The woman glances up at me thoughtfully.
“Oh, I’m not Dr. Winchester.” I give her a reassuring smile and adjust the pink scrubs I’ve formally made my uniform. “My name is Rose Holloway. I’m interning with the doc for the semester.”
“Oh!” She claps her hand over her mouth.
“But don’t worry, all that doctor-patient confidentiality stuff applies to me too.”
“Okay, great because oh my goodness, I was about a second away from spilling all my deepest, darkest secrets.” A nervous laugh bubbles out.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Jordan, you’re in good hands.”
* * *
The day flies by in a blur, and the best part is that I got a lead for a job that I’m actually thrilled about. As it turns out, the doc’s new patient, Ms. Jordan works for the head of human resources at Palestra, one of the fanciest gyms in Manhattan. A couple years back, I’d taken a few yoga classes to deal with stress, and I’d ended up loving it so much I got certified as an instructor.
A job at Palestra would be everything.
And all I have to do is show up tomorrow for an interview.
