The Fallout (The Therapist #3) - W.S. Greer Page 0,33

off of me, rinsing away all the stress and annoyance, hoping it won’t be replaced whenever I leave the room and go into the kitchen to eat.

By the time I’m dried off, it’s just after nine o’clock at night. The aroma of chicken in the air has faded, and the living room is mostly silent. I open the door and find Eli sitting on the couch sipping wine from a glass that’s almost empty. A plate rests on the coffee table with nothing left but smeared leftovers, a dirty napkin, and silverware.

From this perspective, I don't see any plates left out for me, so it seems Eli has made dinner just for himself, and I don't know how I feel about that. Should I be disappointed? Should I be angry? I said we shouldn't be having dinner together right now, so I’m not sure what I’m supposed to think, but for some reason it just doesn't feel good that Eli would make dinner just for himself.

“Hey,” Eli says when I step into the living room. Before I can reply, he grabs his plate off the coffee table and walks into the kitchen.

“Hey,” I reply. While Eli rinses off his plate in the sink, I lean against the wall and watch him, wondering what I’m going to eat after he's done, because I definitely don't see a plate for me anywhere. I think to say something to him about it, but choose not to.

Eli washes off his plate, knocks back the rest of his wine, and washes out the wine glass before placing it back in the cabinet where it belongs. He knows I'm watching him but doesn't say anything to me. Neither of us speaks, and it’s awkward, but we let it linger in the air like secondhand smoke until Eli is finished. Once he's done, he walks past me and back into the living room.

“I've got some work to do,” he says as he grabs the remote for the TV and turns the volume down. “So, I’m going to head down into the guest bedroom. I covered your dinner plate and left it in the microwave for you. It’s baked lemon chicken and Velveeta Shells and Cheese. I hope that’s okay. I won’t be back up for the rest of the night, so the living room and stuff is all yours. I figured you could use some peace and quiet, especially after having to work longer than usual. I’m sure you're stressed and tired, so you should enjoy your night. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

I’m taken aback. My heart flutters in my chest like moths are being born within my rib cage, and I don't even know what to think as Eli tosses the remote onto the couch and starts for the basement door, where the guest bedroom is downstairs.

“Umm, yeah. Thank you,” I manage to mumble as he reaches the door.

“You're welcome. Have a good night,” he says, just before disappearing down the stairs.

With a smile on my face, I walk over to the microwave and open the door. Inside, a plate covered with aluminum foil awaits me. I remove it and find two chicken breasts and a mound of shells and cheese next to a small serving of green beans. It looks amazing.

After I heat everything up, I pour myself a glass of red wine and take my food into the living room, where I eat on the couch surrounded by the peace I was hoping for when I left work this evening. After a long day, I’m grateful to be able to relax in front of the fireplace and enjoy some wine and good food without thinking about anything at all. It’s just me, the meal Eli prepared for me, the fire, and mindless television. It’s perfect.

HEAT AND HAPPINESS

18

~ Malcolm ~

“You seem frustrated today. Are you?”

Dr. Evelyn Monroe sits in front of me in her navy blue armchair wearing my favorite color. She has squeezed her beautiful body into a red dress that hugs her like it never wants to let her go. Her natural red hair drapes over her shoulder in tight curls, each strand winding over and over like curves on a hillside road, and her makeup is perfect—subtle, yet flawlessly applied, with lipstick just a shade darker than her skin tone so she draws attention to her mouth.

The more I talk to Dr. Monroe, the more I find myself attracted to her. I suppose if you're looking to find reasoning in why I