Survivor’s guilt. He knew she blamed herself for what had happened, which left her struggling with being alive when someone else hadn’t gotten so lucky. Guilt was a bitch, as he knew all too well. “We’re working on legs,” he said. “She’s still cramping sporadically. She’s changing. She’s going to need a juice.”
“Of course,” Kelly said, getting up to go behind the bar. “But . . . very interesting.”
“What?”
She waggled her brows at him. “That you know exactly where she is and what she’s doing.”
Simon pointed to the open double doors into the gym area. “She was right there for all to see as of five minutes ago.”
“Uh-huh. And the way you were sitting together out here before your session?”
“She’s working on some personal stuff.”
“You make her laugh,” Kelly said. “But even more interesting . . . she makes you laugh.”
He shook his head. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” she asked innocently.
“Don’t do your shrink thing on me.”
“Well, I was one for five years before switching lanes. It’s in my blood.” She gave him a knowing look. “There’s something between you two. Always has been.”
Because he didn’t know what to do with the truth of that statement, Simon turned away. The last thing he wanted to talk about was his feelings for Emma, especially when he had no business having any feelings for her at all. Even without the conflict of interest, his life was not his own. “You of all people know I don’t have time for a relationship.”
“Simon,” she said gently. “You didn’t have time for me because I wasn’t in your heart. You love me, but you were never in love with me. You’ve yet to find the woman you care enough about to make a place in your life for.”
He hated that it was true. But it just proved to him that as much as he could feel himself falling for one adorably sexy Emma Harris, it couldn’t ever happen. “You think you’ll sell?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Trying.”
“Look.” She stopped working on Emma’s drink and looked Simon in the eyes, her own earnest. “It’s been a long time since you let yourself live a little. All I’m saying is there’s a spark between the two of you. Why not go with it?”
“It’s not that simple. She’s a patient.”
“And I was your boss. That didn’t stop us. You can’t deny that when you’re both in the same room, the heat factor goes up exponentially. I walked by the two of you a bit ago and got so much static electricity I nearly electrocuted myself going into my office.” Kelly smiled at him. “I like it. You need it. You need to act on it.”
“It seems unethical.”
“It’s not like you’re a doctor. Or a shrink. So what if you’re helping her get back to herself? And I’ve seen her look at you. Trust me, it’s two-sided.”
“She’s . . . not ready.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Kelly shrugged. “That’s up to her. But I’m talking about you. You’re too stubborn to let yourself be happy, like . . .” She cocked her head as she looked at him. “Like maybe you think you don’t deserve it.”
He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “You do realize you’ve pretty much given up your life to help your dad. But, Simon, your dad never gave up his life for yours. He wouldn’t want this.”
“What would you have me do, Kelly? Put him in a facility? Let his business fall apart so he has no income?”
“No, I’d get help. I’d get a full-time aide for him. Several. One of them should take an evening shift or two so you could have a life too.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you?” Kelly asked.
Emma came out of the back locker room, moving more easily across the floor than she had even two weeks ago. She had her things in a backpack on her shoulders, looking . . . damn. Better than she had in a long time.
Kelly gave him a meaningful look that said get your shit together.
Emma came their way and sat on the stool next to Simon. At the sudden silence between him and Kelly, she gave them a second, longer look. “Am I interrupting?”
“Yes,” Kelly said. “I’m lecturing Simon about getting a life, and how important that is.”
“Food,” Simon said to Emma. “You need food to refuel.”
Kelly rolled her eyes and turned to the fridge to pull out two chicken avocado salads, the toppings, including two small containers of crumbled blue cheese, and a small loaf of homemade blueberry-lemon bread.
“I’ll take his crumbled blue cheese,” Emma said, snatching it up.
“Because . . .” Kelly looked at Simon with faux guile. “He’s lactose intolerant?”
Emma snorted. “No, he doesn’t eat it because”—she lowered her voice to imitate his—“that stuff’ll kill you, Em.”
Damn. Why did he love it when she made fun of him?
Kelly laughed. She’d been trying to push Simon’s buttons. Instead she’d proved a point. That he and Emma had gotten close enough that she knew him better than . . . well, most people.
He’d let her in.
Yeah, yeah, fine. He had. But he hadn’t meant to, and until the other night on the roof, he’d had no reason to think she might feel the same about him. As for what he did feel for her, that was still a big hot ball of messy emotion the weight of an elephant sitting on his chest. Best to ignore.
Emma reached over and stole his pickle.
Kelly started to laugh again, but at Simon’s deadpan look, she pretend-coughed to cover it.
“He hates pickles,” Emma explained.
“Oh, I know,” Kelly said. “I’m just finding it funny that you know it too.” And with that, she smirked and walked off.
Emma watched her go. “What was that about?”
“Nothing.”
“Seemed like something.”
He shoveled some salad in.
“Think that’s going to save you?” she asked, once again mimicking him, using the very words and tone he often used on her in their sessions.
It made him laugh, and damn, Kelly was right. Emma was good for him. And something else too. He was no longer surprised by how comfortable he felt when he was with her. Yeah, so much of his life wasn’t his own right now, but this, her, was. Their working relationship had been built slowly, over months and months, on honesty and trust alone. It’d begun with Emma having no choice but to fully trust Simon, and he’d done his best to live up to that for her. Their ensuing friendship was also built on honesty and trust, but ironically, this had been him having to trust her, at least at first, and he’d been rusty at that. Still, it’d worked and it was good, so he saw no reason to give up either the honesty or the trust now. “Kelly thinks we should make a move on this thing happening between us.”
She stared at him. “And you?” she finally asked. “What do you think?”
Honesty. He told himself that was the only thing he had in his favor. “That we can’t do this and still work together.”