Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I know that our next appointment wasn't for another three days but I really felt like I needed to come in.

"It's not a problem, Mr. Venturi. What exactly happened?"

Well, technically nothing. But what almost happened is unforgivable. I almost let myself cross that line.

"Oh?"

I mean I almost gave into my feelings for Casey. I went with her to this event yesterday and I almost forgot that it wasn't really a date . . .

"An event?"

A gala. Her company was throwing it to promote the release of this book that they were publishing. It was a black-tie deal and she was expected to have a date.

"And she invited you?"

Yeah well, like I said, that first blind date she went on didn't really work out and a corporate event wouldn't exactly be an appropriate place to meet another one.

"I suppose."

So she asked me, and even though I knew that it wasn't a good idea, I didn't say no. She had actually been one of the editors for this book, so she was pretty excited about the whole thing. She even went out and bought a new dress for it. From the moment I saw her in it I knew that I was in trouble. It was pink, strapless, and skin tight. She looked absolutely incredible in it, and before I even realized what I was doing, I heard myself telling her that. She blushed and thanked me and I worried that she could see right through me.

"Because she blushed?"

Yeah, well I wasn't looking at her like you should look at your sister at that point . . .

And after an awkward pause, she suggested that we go get a cab. She had spent a lot of time getting ready and we were running a little bit late. We got about three fourths of the way to this event when we hit a massive traffic jam. And, of course, Casey was freaking out about it. Our cabbie started honking his horn and the cabbie in the car next to ours began shouting obscenities at him. After, about two minutes of that, Casey suggested that we walk the rest of the way. It was only eight blocks or so and it didn't look like the cab was going anywhere anytime soon.

So we got out of the car and started to make our way on foot. We came to this busy intersection and I took her hand in mine as we started to cross the street. And it felt incredible. It was so soft and delicate. Although I knew that I should, when we reached the other side of the street, I didn't have the strength to let it go. We walked in silence, not really making eye contact, holding hands the rest of the way.

"And she didn't say anything?"

Well, I'm guessing that she was too embarrassed to. When we got to the building, she removed her hand from mine, gave me this odd little smile, and blushed. I felt this mixture of sadness and happiness and embarrassment, but I smiled back at her awkwardly and quietly suggested that we check our coats. She laughed a little and said that it sounded like a plan.

Once we got in there and sat down to dinner, I started to loosen up a little bit. Maybe it was the champaign or maybe it was the company, but I found myself becoming less self-conscious and not really thinking about what I was doing. We talked and laughed and Casey introduced me to the author and some of the people she worked with. A couple times I caught myself staring at her, thinking about how wonderful she was, and had to give myself a mental slap to snap myself out of it. I thought that she didn't notice it though. Looking back and talking about it now makes me feel kind of perverted. I mean, pulling the wool over my innocent sisters' eyes and all the while getting a sick pleasure out of being there with her like that.

"Do you really think that was how it was?"

It must have been. At least at that point, I must have been fooling her.

"Why do you say that?"

Because. Because she asked me to dance. If she had only known I feel about her she never would have let me be that close to her.

And by that point I had completely forgotten myself. I guess I lost all sense of right and wrong because I just felt purely happy. So we danced. And it was wonderful. I spun her all around the ball room and she laughed as I twirled her into my arms. And I laughed too, glad to see her having so much fun dancing.

And then there was a slow dance. And I didn't suggest that we sit down at our table like I should have. Instead, I moved closer to her and held her against me.

It felt amazing. I could have stayed like that forever. And at some point, I started to run my fingers through her hair. It was soft and silky and long.

When the song ended, she stepped back half a step. She was wearing just the faintest hint of a smile and was looking up at me softly. I looked down at her tenderly and, for a moment, I forgot about our family connection. I felt myself staring at her lips and leaning in as if to kiss her. Our lips were literally inches apart but at the very last moment I realized what I was doing, pulled back, and turned away.

I walked back to our table and she followed me. I brought up that time she had mentioned possibly setting me up with someone from her office and told her I thought that might be a good idea. She asked me if someone in particular had caught my eye that night, and I told her that no one had but that I thought that going out with one of her co-worker would be a good idea. She told me that she would think about it and get back me. We left shortly after that and didn't talk about what almost happened between us.

"And how did she look when you asked her to set you up with someone from her office?"

Flustered. Flustered and kind of upset. We didn't make eye contact during that entire conversation.

"And why do you think that is, Mr. Venturi?"

Probably because I had just almost kissed her! She must have been thrown and disturbed by my behavior. Wouldn't you be if your sibling expressed romantic interest in you?!

"Has it never occurred to you that there might be another possibility?"

The other possibility is inconceivable. Casey could never . . . And it would kill me to think that I placed her in that sort of painful situation.

"In our very first session, you mentioned not wanting to drag her down with you but we never really got a chance to talk about that. What exactly did you mean? In what way would you be dragging her down?"

By exposing her to those kinds of twisted thoughts.

"So just knowing that you felt that way would somehow contaminate her?"

No. Come to think of it, that's not really what I mean . . .

"Then what?"

"Mr. Venturi?"

I guess . . . I guess what I'm afraid of is putting those types of thoughts into her head . . . Exposing her to that terrible 'what if.' What if our parents had never gotten married? What if somehow we weren't siblings?

"So what you're really afraid of is that she might develop feelings for you too?"

Because then she would be in this terrible place that I'm in now. This place of knowing that I want, no long for, something that's totally and completely wrong. I've fallen from whatever grace there is in this world and it's something I can never know again. I would never wish that on anyone that I love.

"But I thought you said that you thought Casey could never love you?"

No. She could never love me and smile like that. She could never love me and let me run my fingers through her hair. She could never love me and put her head on my shoulder as we danced.

"Mr. Venturi, I'm not—"

Somebody is knocking at your door.

"Well our session is almost done, whoever it is can wait a few more minutes."

I really think that you should get it. They don't seem to be going away and I won't be able to concentrate if they keep knocking.

"Alright."

"Yes, can I help you?"

I hope so. My name is Casey McDonald and I'm Derek Venturi's stepsister. Can I come in?

Author's Ridiculously Long Note:

Hope that you liked this chapter. Hopefully the previous ones provided enough back story for you to understand where Derek is coming from. The next chapter is going to be quite difficult to write because I'm going to try to stick to this purely dialogue format. It will kind of be a challenge for me to make the interaction come to life without describing how the character's look and I want to do it well. Henceforth, Casey will be in italics. Derek will continue to be regular text and the therapist will be in quotes.

I haven't decided if you're going to learn more about the therapist or not. He's not Paul, but he's certainly somewhat inspired by him. If it helps, I can tell you that in my mind he is a man. I just don't think that Derek would be as comfortable with a female therapist.