Chapter 22: Therapist Hijinks - Part II

Veronica

Today's the day.

After Dr. Lev left my office, I was a whirlwind of revenge. I considered calling Weevil to see if he knew how to steal and cube a sailboat. I pulled out my ill-gotten blueprints of her beach house, and plotted a way in through the ventilation system to plant squid jerky, Durian fruit, and freshly caught fish at key intervals through her heating and cooling ducts. I checked the price to Amazon Prime myself some itching powder for her chairs. I even thought about telling Logan she was mean to me, so he'd go to a different therapist. Without him she'd have to sign on at least three new clients to keep paying her mortgage.

That was what knocked me out of my vengeance spiral. The twinge in my chest that told me he wouldn't be doing this well with any other therapist. Hadn't, actually, ever done this well with other therapists.

There's also the teensy little consideration that she may have single-handedly saved our marriage.

I can't think of another therapist on earth who would be Machiavellian enough to lead me into a total breakdown and tape it without permission, all because she predicted the conclusion I'd come to on that tape. And she knew the only thing Logan would truly believe was being able to listen in on me talking to someone else about it.

She's smart, and she's so good for him, and once I saw that first hand, I started to wonder…what would I be like if she could help me, too? It took me a while to admit that I might want her as a therapist even more than I wanted revenge, but if I'm honest, it's been in the back of my head for a while.

Though no matter what I want, I'm not sure it's going to work. For all I know, I'll be rejected before I even get started, but there's a little tug in my belly that's signaling me it's time, and calling me a coward every time I try to delay. I hate feeling like a coward. I also can't stand the idea that Logan might be braver than me. So this morning I threw on my favorite combat boots and my blackest biker jacket, and now I take the stairs up so I can't chicken out when it comes time to press the buttons on the elevator.

"Mrs. Mars," Dr. Lev says when I knock at the open door of her office. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

I take one of the chairs facing her desk and stall for a moment placing my bag on the floor by my feet. This woman has already seen me at my lowest, most desperate moment. I don't have any dignity left to protect, and her words have been ringing in my ears ever since I made the decision to come here.

Have you ever considered asking for what you need rather than bargaining or bluffing for it?

I fold my hands in my lap, trying to match her deliberate, poised stillness. "I've been working with my husband on his uh—" Halfway through the sentence, I realize the incredible lengths he went to in order to keep his nonprofit a secret. I assumed that was so I wouldn't find out, but that's a little self-centered of me, now that I think about it. Maybe he didn't want anyone to know.

"I know about Safe Drinks," she says.

I nod, and try to quash my jealousy that he trusted her with that and not me. "Anyway, it's helped. With…what we talked about the other day. The stuff that happened to me." Feelings, Veronica. You're here to talk about feelings. If I can face down the hollow black eye of a gun barrel, I ought to be able to put my damn emotions into words. I gesture over my stomach area. "I feel like there was a tight little coil in me and it's loosened a bit. Like I found something to fight, something I could do, for the first time since I solved the mystery of what actually happened to me."

"That's nice to hear, Veronica." She gives me a polite smile. "Perhaps you could have written it in your Christmas card to let me know, along with whatever ridiculously extravagant and thoughtful gift your husband will be forcing on me again this year despite my repeated explanations of therapeutic ethics."

That gets a smile out of me. "Boy, you've really got him pegged, don't you?"

"If I didn't, by now, I doubt he would be renewing our professional acquaintance." The words are crisp, just this side of dismissive, but I can't help but respond to her underlying respect for Logan's judgement.

"Anyway, I uh…it helped. Working for his business. And…not talking to you about what happened to me, that was horrible. But the video you made of me." Even talking about the video makes me rethink ever trying to look her in the face again. "I don't know if we would have made it through that tight spot without the video."

"You would have," she says, and my eyes fly up to her face at the certainty in her voice. "But I expect it would have gotten messy. Probably illegal."

"Yeah." I stifle a bit of a laugh at that. It's true enough. My stomach is all hyperactive butterflies with razor-blade wings. "Anyway, I'm sorry I called you a shitty therapist." I pull the sealed, legal-sized envelope out of my purse. "This is my peace offering, to apologize for the bugs, and for…invading your privacy." I nearly choke on the words, they're so hard to force out. "I may have flunked out of therapy, but I do realize blackmail isn't the healthiest defense mechanism."

She glances at the envelope. "And what is this?"

"The location of your child."

She doesn't move, not even to blink, but I swear the skin tightens over every inch of her body.

"The one your parents took from you when you were sixteen," I say brusquely, because if it were me, I wouldn't appreciate sympathy in a moment like this. "She's well and living in the suburbs of Jerusalem with her second husband. Her youngest just graduated from medical school. If you'd like to contact her, or just check in on her from afar, all her contact information and social media accounts are included. Her Instagram is set to private, but I had a friend build in a back door portal in case you wanted to take a peek." I clear my throat. "The friend did it anonymously. She doesn't know who the account belongs to, or that it has anything to do with you."

She picks up the envelope and turns it in her hands, setting the edge very softly against the desk. "Your apology for invading my privacy is to invade my privacy even more deeply."

A shock of electricity runs across my skin, and my fingers curl a little where they were resting on the armrests of the chair, my nails pushing painfully against the surface. I may have miscalculated and blown my chance here. And I realize, as the hair on the back of my neck rises in near panic, that I really want this chance.

"I—fuck. I thought you'd want to know. If it were me, I'd want to know." Especially since she's lost all her other family.

She turns the envelope again, her fingers so gentle on the paper. "I did want to know." She looks at me, her eyes shrewd and brilliant, like the presence of the envelope has cranked the color up by several notches. "Though I don't appreciate your attempt to bribe me with information any more than I appreciated your attempt to blackmail me with it."

"It wasn't!" I blurt, then swallow. "I don't mean it like a bribe. I…actually would appreciate it if you didn't let it influence your decision today. I did it because I felt bad and I wanted us to be even again, before…anyway, I wanted us to be on a level playing field."

"Thank you."

The words are so far from what I expected her to say, that at first, they don't compute. But she doesn't say them again. Her sparse lashes sweep down and she slides the envelope carefully into her desk drawer. Closes it. After a long moment, she looks back up at me.

"Ask, Veronica. Whatever you came here for. Without blackmail, or bribes, or manipulation this time, please."

I straighten in my seat and grip the armrests. "I'd like…I'd like to try again, with this whole therapy thing." I keep going, rushing the words out so she can't just tell me no before I explain. "I know I'm sarcastic and guarded and generally a pain in the ass, as far as patients go, but so is my husband and you manage him just fine."

"I'm not sure who is managing who between your husband and I."

I smile. I know the feeling. "Well, either way, he's better now. He's the same person, don't get me wrong, but life is just a little easier for him now. He deserves that." I clear my throat, and it does nothing for how scratchy it feels, or its suffocating tightness. Under the protection of my leather jacket, I'm sweating. "I would…I would like to deserve that, especially if it makes me easier for him to live with. I'm willing to work for it."

She takes off her reading glasses and taps the end of them on the desk. "I've told you before that therapy can't be something you do for someone else."

"You also told me I didn't care enough about my marriage to think beyond what I wanted in the moment." I sit forward in my chair, energized now that she's giving me an opening to make an argument. "Logan's the only person who made me care enough to want to let anyone in after my mom took off. He's made me see what it could be worth, to try to change."

I press my lips together, annoyed that I'm not explaining myself very well.

"Does that make any sense? Like, I guess in the past I always thought the results of therapy would look different. People being all zen and annoying, or talking about their feelings and throwing pity parties and always referencing their issues that they're 'working on' that never seem to change. But he's just…Logan. A sarcastic pain in the ass, who gets arrested a little less often, and smiles more. Sometimes even when other people are looking."

Dr. Lev smiles fondly. "He has done well, hasn't he? He's worked hard for that. Harder than you probably know."

"I—" I start to disagree, because I know how much it's put him through the wringer to get here. But just because I saw that, doesn't mean it wasn't just the tip of the iceberg. If anyone would know better than me, it would be the woman across this desk. "Yeah, probably so."

"I'll give you a month. If you're as bad as you were the first time, I'm not wasting my time on you."

"Fair enough." I hold my breath, waiting for the catch.

She slips her reading glasses back on and turns her attention back to her computer. "So come back tomorrow."

I blink, well and truly braced for the worst and a little off-balance at getting what I want instead. "You don't want to start now?"

"No. I want you to take a night to not sleep at all, have some time to freak out about what you've agreed to, and show up here a complete mess to call the whole thing off under some bullshit pretense." She doesn't change expression, or stop typing. "It'll save me a lot of time and emotional energy."

Fuck, I think I might actually be starting to like this woman. But she still doesn't know me as well as she thinks she does, if she thinks there's a chance in flaming hell I'll back down from the challenge she just threw out.

I give her my sweetest smile. "See you tomorrow, Doc."

#

Veronica

I show up in a different leather jacket with my makeup done to hide the dark circles under my eyes, and a sense of gratitude in my heart that Logan is still in Bali. He would have been giving me that gentle, understanding smile and gentler hug last night, the one that calls me on all my shit and makes me want to punch him in his pretty teeth. Now, I'm only one who knows how impossible it was for me to walk up these stairs this morning, and I can live with that.

Dr. Lev isn't at her desk at our appointed time. Instead, she's settled into an armchair in the conversation area, a leather-bound notebook and rich person's pen in her lap. I eye the couch and its paired Kleenex boxes on each end table, then take the other armchair instead.

The ghost of a smile flickers across her face, and she adjusts to face me more fully.

"So how does this all work?" I plaster on an expression that hopefully looks eager and non-freaking-out-ish. "I dreamed about cheese pancakes last night, if that helps."

"I have to admit, I'm a little surprised you actually showed up."

"Yeah, well, that's because you basically think I'm human garbage." I smile cheerfully. "But I'm human garbage with a great marriage I'm willing to walk through fire for. So fire, meet feet." I gesture to my combat boots. "We're going to become closely acquainted."

She laughs. "All right then. So when I started with your husband, I did it by convincing him that therapy could actually help him."

"Yes, how did you do that?" I lean forward. "I've always been curious, because he gobbled up my other therapist offerings and belched flame when he was done."

"This will take much less time if you stop trying to pry your husband's secrets out of me. I might remind you, I'm paid by the hour."

"More like by the millisecond, if I'm doing the math right."

"I might also remind you that you could try asking him, if there's information you'd like. He's not one of your investigative clients. He's not always trying to hide something incriminating from you."

"You so clearly didn't know him when he was a teenager."

"They have a separate juvenile record in our court system for a reason, Mrs. Mars. You might consider incorporating one into your personal philosophy."

"Yadda yadda, forgive my husband, don't be so grudgy, I hear you. You're the one-woman Logan fan club."

"You like that about me," Dr. Lev says. "That's the only reason you're speaking to me at all, if I don't miss my guess."

An unwilling laugh huffs out of me. "Touché."

I appreciate her loyalty to Logan, because it means I can trust her with his secrets. But also her clear respect for him makes me vaguely jealous and annoyed, even while I semi-adore her for adoring him. Logan deserves to have more of a fan club than he does. If he let anyone really know him besides me and Heather, he would. Clearly, since both of us would kill for the big idiot.

"You're a detective," Dr. Lev begins. "You don't trust anything you don't dig up on your own, so therapy for us is going to go a little differently than it does for my other clients. I won't make your personality work against itself by asking you to trust me. Similarly, I don't want to spend much time asking you to give out information that you instinctively feel might be used against you someday. So instead, we're going to let you investigate to your little heart's content."

"As long as I don't have to pay my own fees. I'm a steep negotiator."

She smiles, and goes on. "So, during the next case you're on, notice when it touches on something personal for you."

"What if it doesn't? What if it's just a case?"

"It will, if you're paying attention. And when that feeling or memory comes up, instead of shoving it away and refocusing on the case, stop for just an instant. Think about what you felt, and where it came from. There's no right or wrong here, no reason to beat yourself up for having an emotional reaction, whatever it is. Emotions are just clues, like any other sort of evidence you deal with. Next, notice how it affects your behavior; what you do as a result. You can talk it over with me if you want, or you can just have the knowledge for yourself. It's up to you, but do it."

I draw a checkmark in the air. "Homework, assigned. What's up next?"

"Nothing. You're free to go."

I draw back a little. "Well, that was easy."

"I don't want to scare you off on the first day, do I? I look forward to a long and fruitful relationship of you doing my job for me." She smiles with a twinkle of genuine humor.

I snort. "Great." I have to admit though, the relief at not being asked to spill my guts today is leaving me so weak in the knees that I need a minute before I can stand, or she might notice.

"May I ask, are things going better with Logan?"

"Yeah. They are." I smile, and look down, thinking of the mingled sweetness and desperation of the makeup sex we've been having. But then I realize who's asking, and my chin jerks back up. "Wait, did he say things weren't going better?"

She arches a snow-white eyebrow.

"Gotcha." Familiar annoyance mixes with relief. "His secrets, your vault."

"The vault works the same for you, Veronica. Whatever you tell me, whatever I discover about you, stays with me. You can share it with him, or with anyone else in your life as you choose. It's like that about everything in your life, though people rarely notice. You can choose what you share, even in a marriage."

"Yeah." I narrow my eyes slightly, thinking about what she said. It sounds like she's giving me permission to keep my secrets, but somehow it feels like she might be saying the opposite. "Yeah. Okay." I push off the couch. "Thanks for the easy release day, Dr. Lev. I'll be back."