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They sighed. “No, you let yourself get picked up. Don’t blame the other person.”
“I know, but I broke my vow.”
What was that look? Were they disappointed? Angry? Compared to Martine, they were so hard to read. Even after two years of therapy with them, I didn’t know the language of their expressions well enough to read them fluently.
I flinched, wanting to make it better, but the truth was the truth.
“You’re not a monk. You need to cut yourself some slack.”
They were absolving me of guilt…just like that?
Frustrated, I sipped at my drink. “What’s the point of making a vow if you’re not going to keep it? I’m disgusted with myself.”
“If I broke a vow I’d made to myself, what would you say to me?”
I gave them an irritable shrug.
“You’d tell me not to be so hard on myself,” they continued. “Breaking your vow didn’t hurt anyone, did it?”
“I don’t know. I might have hurt him.” I blew out a breath. “He made me unreasonably angry, but I tried to be kind when he submitted to me.”
“Angry because he tempted you?”
“Because—because I felt forced. If I hadn’t fucked his wife, he would have found someone else to do it. I don’t think she wanted to be there, but if it hadn’t been me, it might have been some other man who doesn’t bother controlling his demons.”
“You got picked up by a couple, and the husband wanted to watch?”
“Yes.”
“So, you fucked his wife to protect her from creeps?”
“Yes.”
“And she was willing?”
“She was, but then I fucked him, too.”
“He wasn’t willing?” Their question was gentle, but I could feel the edged disapproval I was seeking.
“He was willing, I suppose, but I shouldn’t have done it out of spite.”
They sighed. “Everyone was okay when you left?”
“More or less.”
“Sounds like there’s no problem except for in your head. You didn’t kill anyone.”
“Not this time.”
They sighed.
I took another sip from my glass, and the liquid burned a warm path from my mouth down to my belly. I really needed to stop self-medicating with alcohol. Jack told me so often enough. They didn’t say anything, but I could feel the weight of their gaze on the tumbler I held. I set it down.
“Thank you.”
“My apologies.”
“You don’t need to apologize. You’re using it to dull the edge of your trauma. I wish you’d agree to take an actual prescription instead. Alcohol is a depressant, and you don’t need that in your life.”
