In my defense, Griff’s not the only one I’m avoiding. Twice, my sisters invite me to lunch. Twice, I decline, citing busy work and travel schedules. While not untrue, there’s another reason for dodging them.
I’m not ready to let them know things got serious with Griff. They suspect I slept with him, sure. But love? No way.
Right now, it feels like my own private treasure, something to guard and protect and cup secretly in my hands. If I show it to anyone, they’ll see what it means to me. How scared and naked I really am, and I’m just not ready for that.
I’m puttering around my kitchen an hour after I get back from Portland when there’s a knock at my door. I answer it praying simultaneously that it’s Griffin and that it’s literally anyone but Griffin. The tax collector or the grim reaper or—
“Soph.” I smile down at the girl in front of me. “What a nice surprise.”
“I wanted to see Leonard.” She drags her ponytail across her face and twists the end of it. “Is now an okay time?”
“Come in.” I swing the door open, then glance at the mess on my kitchen counter. “I’m trying to make banana nut muffins. It’s not going very well.”
Soph wrinkles her nose. “What’s burning?”
“That’s what I meant about it not going well.” I gesture to the garbage can, which contains the charred remains of a dozen muffins. “I forgot to set a timer and got distracted.”
“Bollocks.” Soph laughs and peers into my batter bowl. “It looks kinda runny for muffins. Want help?”
“I would love that more than just about anything.”
Annoyed at being ignored for five minutes, Leonard squawks from his perch in the living room. “Look at me, Mari!”
Soph walks over to him, and I hold my breath hoping she doesn’t ask about the phrase. It sounds like a plea for attention and not her father’s words as he urged me to keep my eyes open in bed.
“Are you being a needy boy?” Soph coos at my bird. “Joel says it’s important to do things on your own when you can and ask for help when you get stuck.”
I wasn’t going to ask about Soph’s first therapy session, but since she brought it up. “That’s right, you had your first appointment with Dr. Adams. Did things go okay?”
“Yeah, he’s pretty cool. And he told me to call him Joel, so I am.” She plucks a peanut out of Leonard’s bowl and hands it to him, giggling when he snatches it with his gnarled claw. “It’s kinda weird, talking about my feelings and stuff.”
“It’s a big adjustment at first.” Or forever, for some people. “But it’s healthy to talk things through. Get an outside perspective on your problems.”
“Mmmhmm.” Soph picks up another peanut but seems to hesitate. She hands it to Leonard, then wipes her hands on her jeans as she turns to face me. “My mom had a counselor once. Before she left, I mean.”
I hold my breath. She couldn’t know, right? There’s no way she found out it was me. “A lot of people have counselors,” I say slowly. “It’s a totally normal, natural thing.”
“I guess.” Her gaze skitters away. “Do psychologists tell people to get divorced?”
My heart thuds in my ears as I formulate an answer. “It’s not a therapist’s job to tell patients what they should or shouldn’t do,” I say carefully. “It’s our job to help them talk through what’s bothering them. To listen and offer guidance as they reach their own decisions.”
“Yeah, okay. That makes sense.” She scuffs her toe across the hardwood floor. “But what if someone’s, like, thinking about leaving her daughter. And what if the counselor says, ‘yeah, that’s a good idea.’ Do you think—”
“Absolutely not.” I draw in a breath, forcing myself to calm down. To take myself out of the equation and focus on Soph. “Honey, no therapist is going to counsel a parent to leave their daughter unless that parent is a danger to the child.”
She frowns. “Like how?”
“Well, say there’s a father who thinks he might lose his temper and hit his kids,” I say. “Or a mother addicted to drugs who can’t stop herself from driving impaired with her children in the car.”
Soph looks startled. “My mom isn’t like that.”
“I know that, sweetie.”
I wish so badly I could tell her what else I know. That Gabby might’ve been selfish and starstruck and hungry for fame. But also, that she’s human. That she loved spending whole days at zoos and museums with Soph and Griff. She never mentioned them by name, of course—she talked about Gary. About a niece who sometimes tagged along on their adventures.
What kind of mother lies to her therapist about—
But no, that’s not where I was going with that. Sorting through half-truths in hindsight, I’m sure Gabrielle Walsh loved her daughter. It wasn’t a perfect love, and God knows she made poor choices. But the smile on her face when she talked about taking Soph to the zoo, spending hours watching the otters—she couldn’t fake that sort of joy. She wasn’t that good an actress.
Tears tingle behind my eyelids, and I order myself to keep it together for Soph’s sake. “I don’t know your mother.” That’s the truth, at least on some level. The woman I knew as my patient isn’t the same one who’d abandon her child. “But I know anyone who’d choose to exit her child’s life must have been hurting really badly. I know it’s not about you, Soph. Whatever happened with your mother—that’s about her, okay?”
I’m treading so close to the line of what I’m not allowed to say. What could wreck my career irreparably. But if that’s the cost of giving this child comfort, so be it.
Soph studies my face for a long time, then nods. “Yeah. I guess that makes sense.”
I need to extricate myself from this discussion. “Have you shared your feelings about your mother with Joel?”
She shakes her head slowly. “We mostly talked about school. About how things have been weird with Avery since I laughed at Ryan’s meme.”
“That’s a big step, opening up about something you feel bad about.”
“Yeah.” Her expression turns sheepish. “I apologized like you said. To Avery, I mean. Things have been better since that. Joel said it was a really mature thing to do.”
“I’m so glad.” The urge to hug her is overwhelming, but I hold back. “It’s great you’re comfortable sharing things like that with Joel already.”
“He’s nice,” she says. “It’s really easy to talk to him.”
“If you feel okay sharing some of your feelings about your mom, he might have some ideas for how to work through it.”
Soph nods, and I see her bottom lip tremble. “Yeah. I should do that.”
“Whenever you feel ready. It’s important to trust your therapist. To have the kind of relationship where you know you can tell him anything, and he won’t tell a soul. That’s the law, and it’s something psychologists take very, very seriously.”
Am I laying the groundwork for my own defense? I honestly don’t know, but I do know I’d like to hug this poor girl. I wonder if she sees that in my eyes, because she steps toward me and looks up with earnest eyes.