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Authors: Harte Roxy
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ground in silence. I am not debating how I plan to top her.
Calmly, George pours more iced tea all around and we are quiet again, drinking our tea, each of us lost in our thoughts. I find it slightly odd that George has offered no opinion since breaking the news of what the underlying problem was and I can only imagine Garrett’s thoughts. His body language is self-evident, sitting back in his bar stool, arms crossed, his silence screaming loud and clear that he is furious. I can’t understand his obvious resentment. He had to assume that I would have sex with her. Is it because he learned that I hadn’t yet, giving him reason to think I might not?
I’ve never known Garrett to be jealous. He loved once, his business partner, Tony Giovanni. They’d shared a committed relationship that made room for others even though they loved each other completely, passionately. He’d never exhibited this kind of jealousy. Maybe because it’s been so long since he’s been in a relationship, five years, almost six, since Tony was murdered, and Celia is Garrett’s first interest of any kind since Tony. It may be a reasonable explanation. I could probably think of dozens more, but my job is not to psychoanalyze Garrett. Right now, my duty is to Celia, and I am not meeting her best interests by sitting in my kitchen, arguing with my friends about how to top her.
I stand, coughing faintly to get their attention before announcing, “Thank you for coming George, Garrett, sorry for the scare. I’d like you to leave now.”
Garrett stands. “I want to see her.”
“You agreed to accept my professional advice, correct?” George asks.
Great, now the psychiatrist wants to speak.
“Yes.” Garrett answers, leveling his gaze.
George faces him squarely and reaches a hand out to grip his shoulder. “It’s not in either of your best interests for you to see her right now, she’s too conflicted, and you’re too emotional. If she is to stay here, she needs her dominant link to be Thomas, not you, and part of the struggle within her right now is her connection to you, knowing you are waiting for her.”
Garrett jerks away, not liking the answer.
Turning to me, George doesn’t offer a touch, folding his arms across his chest instead. His stern look is what keeps me from making a comment. “I want to caution you, Thomas, she is very vulnerable emotionally. The men in her past have been manipulative and abusive, which is one of the reasons she is here. She needs a safe place to fight her inner demons and, from what she’s told me, I think you’ve exceeded my expectations. You used good judgment today calling me, and I assume you will continue to use your best judgment after we leave.”
My level of respect for George ups a notch. Nodding, I open the front door for them. The sun is bright
but dark clouds are gathering over the ocean, lightning strikes visible far out to sea. It’s beautiful, too beautiful not to share, so I point for George and Garrett to take notice. We stand for a while watching, the storm moving closer. George comments unnecessarily, “Still a few hours away.”
“Did I mention Kitten is afraid of storms?” Garrett asks.
“Yes, you told me. I’ll keep her safe, stop worrying.”
His jaw tightens and it is his tension that makes me react, pulling him into me, hugging him, holding him, even when he would struggle away. “Stop worrying. You love her. I get that. It’s going to be okay, just trust me.” A second later he relaxes, hugging me back.
“I trust you, Thomas. If I didn’t, she wouldn’t be here.”
I stand on the other side of the heavy carved door that leads to my bedroom, technically her bedroom since she is occupying it, and the easy solution for today would be to just retreat and leave her alone.
After a week in a cage, she deserves time alone, but that is a chicken answer and I am no coward. The truth is that, after a week caged, she especially needs the mental and emotional support
Calmly, George pours more iced tea all around and we are quiet again, drinking our tea, each of us lost in our thoughts. I find it slightly odd that George has offered no opinion since breaking the news of what the underlying problem was and I can only imagine Garrett’s thoughts. His body language is self-evident, sitting back in his bar stool, arms crossed, his silence screaming loud and clear that he is furious. I can’t understand his obvious resentment. He had to assume that I would have sex with her. Is it because he learned that I hadn’t yet, giving him reason to think I might not?
I’ve never known Garrett to be jealous. He loved once, his business partner, Tony Giovanni. They’d shared a committed relationship that made room for others even though they loved each other completely, passionately. He’d never exhibited this kind of jealousy. Maybe because it’s been so long since he’s been in a relationship, five years, almost six, since Tony was murdered, and Celia is Garrett’s first interest of any kind since Tony. It may be a reasonable explanation. I could probably think of dozens more, but my job is not to psychoanalyze Garrett. Right now, my duty is to Celia, and I am not meeting her best interests by sitting in my kitchen, arguing with my friends about how to top her.
I stand, coughing faintly to get their attention before announcing, “Thank you for coming George, Garrett, sorry for the scare. I’d like you to leave now.”
Garrett stands. “I want to see her.”
“You agreed to accept my professional advice, correct?” George asks.
Great, now the psychiatrist wants to speak.
“Yes.” Garrett answers, leveling his gaze.
George faces him squarely and reaches a hand out to grip his shoulder. “It’s not in either of your best interests for you to see her right now, she’s too conflicted, and you’re too emotional. If she is to stay here, she needs her dominant link to be Thomas, not you, and part of the struggle within her right now is her connection to you, knowing you are waiting for her.”
Garrett jerks away, not liking the answer.
Turning to me, George doesn’t offer a touch, folding his arms across his chest instead. His stern look is what keeps me from making a comment. “I want to caution you, Thomas, she is very vulnerable emotionally. The men in her past have been manipulative and abusive, which is one of the reasons she is here. She needs a safe place to fight her inner demons and, from what she’s told me, I think you’ve exceeded my expectations. You used good judgment today calling me, and I assume you will continue to use your best judgment after we leave.”
My level of respect for George ups a notch. Nodding, I open the front door for them. The sun is bright
but dark clouds are gathering over the ocean, lightning strikes visible far out to sea. It’s beautiful, too beautiful not to share, so I point for George and Garrett to take notice. We stand for a while watching, the storm moving closer. George comments unnecessarily, “Still a few hours away.”
“Did I mention Kitten is afraid of storms?” Garrett asks.
“Yes, you told me. I’ll keep her safe, stop worrying.”
His jaw tightens and it is his tension that makes me react, pulling him into me, hugging him, holding him, even when he would struggle away. “Stop worrying. You love her. I get that. It’s going to be okay, just trust me.” A second later he relaxes, hugging me back.
“I trust you, Thomas. If I didn’t, she wouldn’t be here.”
I stand on the other side of the heavy carved door that leads to my bedroom, technically her bedroom since she is occupying it, and the easy solution for today would be to just retreat and leave her alone.
After a week in a cage, she deserves time alone, but that is a chicken answer and I am no coward. The truth is that, after a week caged, she especially needs the mental and emotional support
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