Page 95 of Cashmere Ruin
When morning comes, I make good on that promise.
I call Dr. Allan and tell her what happened. I try not to focus on how anxious I’ve clearly made her—if I start feeling guilty now, there’s no telling where my thoughts might lead me. Instead, I ask for one thing: a referral for a therapist.
I don’t know if the process is usually so quick, but within the next twenty minutes, I’m being contacted by someone. In another hour, she’s at the penthouse.
“Hello, April. I’m Dr. Knox. We spoke earlier on the phone.”
She offers me her hand. I shake it. “Thanks for arranging this so fast. I really appreciate it.”
“Nonsense. We’re a bit like Batman, us therapists: if we didn’t go where we’re needed, then no one would need us at all.” She winks for good measure, then lets me lead her into the living room.
Her sense of humor immediately puts me at ease, which is a miracle in and of itself. I was already picturing myself shaking through this whole ordeal. Like a Chihuahua at the vet or something.
When Matvey emerges from the bedroom, she shakes his hand, too. “Hello. Dr. Laurel Knox. I’m gonna be having a chat with your girlfriend. Would you mind letting us have the place for the next hour or so?”
I can practically see Matvey’s hackles rising. “I’m not leaving her.”
“I understand your concern. But I assure you, she’ll be perfectly safe with me.”
I can see he’s about to start arguing again, so I step between them. “Matvey.” I tug on his sleeve. “It’s fine. Please, trust me.”
A beat goes by. Two. “I don’t like the thought of not being here for you.”
“You are,” I reassure him. “In fact, you’re going to be helping me out by taking May on a stroll. How’s that sound?”
“Like I’m being micromanaged.”
“But is it working?” I crack a smile and hope it’s a convincing one.
After a couple more seconds, Matvey finally relents. “Fine. But I’m leaving Grisha at the door.”
“Okay.”
“And I’m putting thatthing on security detail.”
I follow his line of sight to an unimpressed Mr. Buttons. “I don’t think he’ll mind.”
Within a few minutes, they’re out the door. “If there’s anything?—”
“I’ll call you,” I promise. “Now, go. It’s a pity to stay cooped inside with such nice weather.”
Matvey ignores my transparent attempt at bossing him around. Instead, he locks eyes with the doctor behind me. “Are you good at what you do?”
She smiles. “One of the best.”
He gives her a tight nod. “See that you are.”
Then he’s out.
“I’m so sorry,” I apologize to Dr. Knox. “He didn’t mean anything by that; it’s just?—”
“How he is?” she laughs. “Don’t worry, April, I’m used to being growled at by partners. Now, shall we?”
We sit down at the table, across from each other. “Not gonna make me lie down?” I joke.
“If you’d prefer that. But I get the sense that you’ve been doing a lot of that lately, haven’t you?”
I think back to the blur of the past week: sleep, sleep, sleep. Short, fitful rests, and an eternity of staring at the ceiling to get them. “Yeah. I’m kind of over it.”