I didn’t have much time to mull over what Miss Manners would do because our names were called.
“Mr. and Mrs. Jones?”
I opened my eyes. A short, black man with a bald peanut-shaped head gave us a smile.
We both stood and stretched out our hands to shake. I didn’t need Miss Manners to tell me that.
“I’m Dr. Harrison. Nice to make your acquaintance. Come on back.” He led us through a long hallway lined with doors on either side with name plaques that displayed PhD and other letters behind the names.
He opened the door to a cozy, comfortable room, like an office in corporate America. “Please, come in.” He moved to a chair near a desk and motioned us to sit on a love seat.
Was that done on purpose? I bet some couples couldn’t stand to be in the same room with each other, let alone on an intimate couch. I examined my seat choice and decided to sit a few inches away from the end. Not too close, yet not so obvious in my desire to sit far away from my husband.
Dr. Harrison started off with a few softball questions, who we are, what we did, the crazy weather. Finally, after a few minutes of small talk, he clapped his hands together.
“So. Why are you here today?”
Darren swallowed, squared his shoulders. “We’re here because of me, Dr. Harrison.”
I snapped my attention away from the doctor and to my husband.
“Last week, my wife caught me watching porn and . . . and I also exchange pictures, dirty pictures, with my friends.”
“Mm-hmm.” The doctor steepled his hands, and I wondered if it was a requirement to say “mm-hmm” if you were a counselor. Raina did that a lot on her show.
“How did that make you feel, Mrs. Jones?”
“I was upset, obviously. I never knew he did stuff like that.”
“Stuff like what?”
“Watch porn. Share pictures and make these lewd comments about women. It hurts me because I know I’ll never look like those exotic women he obviously has an obsession with.”
“It’s not an obsession, Kara.” Darren shook his head.
“Then what is it? A hobby? A fetish? What?”
Dr. Harrison raised a hand. “Not that I’m making an excuse, but sometimes men do watch porn,” he said in the most condescending voice ever.
Yes, I knew people watched porn. One time, Darren and I even watched. I was tipsy, but it was fine. I knew it was a regular thing for Raina and Nikki to do with their guys. But what pissed me off was that I didn’t know he did this by himself. It wasn’t something sexy or new for us to try. When I saw his little setup, I realized that porn was something he sneaked off to do. I felt like I married Darren’s representative, and it hurt like hell that he felt like he couldn’t be himself around me.
“Yes. I get that. Some of my girlfriends do, too. I’m not so much mad about the porn as I am about the stupid pic exchange and the nasty comments. Hell, most of his friends are married to beautiful, loving women. Why aren’t I, we, enough?”
Dr. Harrison nodded, his eyes squeezing shut as he listened.
“Mr. Jones, Darren. Why was your screen up?”
Dumb follow-up question, but okay. I’d see where he was going with this.
“I thought I was alone. Kara’s been busy lately with studying.”
“Oh,” Dr. Harrison grabbed his notepad. “You’re in school? I thought you were a sommelier?”
“I am, but I’m studying for the master level. It requires a lot of my time to do so. Studying is like preparing for the LSAT in my field.”
“Got ya.” He turned his attention toward Darren. “So, you thought you were home by yourself. Have you been doing this more since Kara has been focused on her studies?”
Darren nodded. “I guess I’ve been frustrated, too. The canceled dates, we rarely have sex, and I . . . I just needed a release.”
“I get that.” Dr. Harrison lifted his pen in the air. “I do. But you have to be mindful of your wife, protect her.”
I smiled and glanced at Darren. Dr. Harrison was a smart guy.
“If you’re going to do stuff like that with your friends, don’t make it so easily accessible. You have to protect her from those types of things. I know guys like to do stuff like that, but she shouldn’t have to see you do that.”
Scratch that. Dr. Harrison was fucking dumb.
“Wait, what?” I furrowed my brows. “Are you telling my husband to hide things from me?”
His large brown eyes focused on me. “I’m asking him to protect you.”
“By lying. We don’t lie in our marriage, Dr. Harrison,” I bit off angrily. Why I needed to tell a marriage counselor this was beyond me. And what made it worse was that we were paying him $120 an hour to fix us.
“FYI,” I looked at my husband. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I won’t.” Darren eagerly nodded.
“My apologies, Mrs. Jones.” The counselor’s voice wasn’t as contrite as I’d have liked. “Let’s move forward. Darren, I’m so concerned about the root cause for this type of behavior. Why didn’t you speak to your wife about your frustration?”
“Because . . . because—”
“He doesn’t express how he feels,” I finished for him. “He’s always had a hard time with opening up.”
“Why is that, Darren? I want you to answer the question.”
“My family.” He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, adjusting his jeans and then his jacket. “My parents died in an accident. I was a toddler, so I barely remember them and I was raised by my grandparents. They were affluent, and I had all the things I wanted in the world, but we just didn’t talk that way.”
“Were they affectionate? Did they tell you that they loved you?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Can you define what love means to you? What love is?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes I . . .”
“Sometimes, what?” Dr. Harrison encouraged.
“Sometimes I think I don’t know what love is.”
Blood drained from my face. Porn, throwing away his freaky-deaky stash was what I’d thought we’d be discussing. I stared at my husband, willed him to look at me, tell me to my face that he didn’t love me. But he stared straight on, chest heaving as if he’d just run a marathon. I licked my lips, swallowed. My mouth had gone dry, heart pounded like gongs in my ears. “What does that mean? Y-you don’t love me?”
“Of course I do. I’m just confused right now.”
Tears clawed like an unyielding beast up my throat. I couldn’t see anything in front of me but blurred lines. Tears dripped from my eyes and settled on my lips.
Dr. Harrison stepped in. “I think Darren and I should do some one-on-one time. Then after a few sessions, we can go back to marriage counseling.”
I nodded, grabbed my jacket, and rushed out of the office. My husband, the man I thought I would love forever, didn’t know how he felt about me.
God, I wished it was only about the porn.
CHAPTER 7
Cappuccino, Anyone?—Nikki
The small crowd of forty clapped after I’d finished my set. I smiled, took a bow, and exited stage left on the platform I was pretty sure the owner’s kid had made in wood shop class.