Page 62 of Vicious Temptation
Dr. Langan nods approvingly. “That’s very good, Bella. That’s progress.”
“Is it?” I look at her dubiously, and she nods again.
“It is. Do you think you could do it again? Or even alone?” She purses her lips, setting down the pen that she’s been using to take notes. “What about a two-piece. Instead of trying to alter your habits of dressing now around others, what if you worked on it alone? Did you wear two-piece bathing suits, before?”
The topic of conversation is starting to make my stomach clench, but I force myself to nod.
“Do you think you could, if you were all alone, now?”
I think she can see the rising panic in my face, because she raises her hands from the pad soothingly, her expression calm. “You don’t have to, Bella. It’s just a thought. If there were absolutely no one to see you, then it would be a step. In your own home, your own backyard. A little bit of progress. Think about it.”
She looks back down at her pad, tapping her pen against it. “Now. Let’s talk about adding medications, or not.”
An hour later, I’ve at least accomplished the most important thing—getting my prescription for the sleeping pills refilled. At least a dozen times, I thought of telling her that I’ve moved out of my childhood home, that I’ve gotten a job, that I’m taking care of two children, that I find my new boss to be uncomfortably attractive, and that while I haven’t had my pills, he’s been letting me sleep in his bed to try to stave off the nightmares. And every time, I stopped myself, because I didn’t know how to explain why that’s all so monumental. That I had, before all of this, never imagined that I would have a job, or any future at all beyond the one my father had planned for me.
So, instead, I just say what I need to in order to get my prescription, and leave.
Clara and I made plans to get lunch while I wait for it to be filled, and Jason drives me to the restaurant, a little French bistro place called L’Duc that Clara found online. I walk in to see her already sitting at a back table, a menu open in front of her, and she waves eagerly as I walk over.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her, as soon as I sit down, and she frowns at me.
“For what?”
“I haven’t seen you since that whole thing with Gabriel. We haven’t even talked that much. I honestly thought you might be upset with me?—”
“For that?” Clara flaps a hand. “No. Absolutely not. Honestly, I get it. He didn’t know me—still doesn’t—and I was hanging out with his kids. I’d probably be crabby about that, too. It’s honestly not a big deal. And speaking of crabby—” She waves the server over, clearly in a bright mood. “Two glasses of pinot grigio—this one—” she points to a name on the list, “and crab bisque for me, for an appetizer. Bella?”
“Just the chopped salad is fine.” I push the menu away, unsure if I’ll be able to eat anything more than that, even though it technically is an appetizer. “I’m glad you’re not mad at me.”
“I could never be mad at you.” Clara purses her lips. “How are things going?”
I run through all of the things that have happened since then, trying to think of what to tell Clara. There’s so much, and like the appointment with Dr. Langan, I don’t know where to begin.
“Bella, are you okay?” I don’t realize how long I’ve been silent until Clara’s slightly worried voice cuts through my thoughts. “You look—I don’t know. Like a million things are rattling around up there. Was he pissed that you asked me to come over? Like—really bad?”
I shake my head, swallowing hard. “No.” I bite my lip, wanting to tell her everything, and wondering if I can. If I can unburden myself to someone I care so much about.
But this is my best friend. If there’s anyone in the world I should be able to talk to, it’s her.
“I need to tell you something.” I see the server approaching, and wait for him to drop off our wine and appetizers, before I take a deep breath.
“Okay, Bel, now I’m really worried.”
“No, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not, but—” I suck in another breath, trying not to panic. This is the kind of thing that Dr. Langan would call good progress. And even though I haven’t felt like my appointments with her have helped all that much, this might.
If I can talk to Gabriel, I can talk to Clara.
“I’m listening, whatever it is,” Clara says softly, and that gives me enough confidence to speak.
“Something really bad happened to me, four months ago. The clothes?” I hold up my arms, swathed in the too-warm sweatshirt. “It’s not an iron deficiency, or any kind of health thing. And that engagement I told you about? It was broken because—” I suck in another breath. “Because my fiancé locked everyone in the church and tried to murder as many members of the mafia as he could. He kidnapped me, took me to a hotel, and—” I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry, and I reach for my wine, taking a large gulp of it. Clara is staring at me, wide-eyed, in horror. It’s exactly the look I expected, but at least it’s not disbelief.
“They hurt me,” I say softly. “Not the—not the worst thing, but a lot of bad things. That’s why I cover up. Why I don’t want to hug anyone anymore, and I seem panicky sometimes. Why I really, really don’t want to end up married to another stranger.”
Clara makes a shocked, scoffing noise in the back of her throat. “Are you kidding me?” she gasps. “Only an absolute monster would try to make you marry a stranger after that. I’m sorry, Bel, I know that’s your dad, but—” She starts to reach out to touch my hand, and then abruptly pulls hers back. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine—I can’t believe that happened to you. I mean, I do believe you, but?—”
“No, I know. I know it sounds insane. Like a different world. Even just staying with Gabriel, who tries to keep things more normal, it feels like a different world now. And I don’t want to go back.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” Clara says vehemently. “Bella, we’ll find a way?—”