She replied with a heart eyes emoji and moved to the rest of her texts.
There was a message from Andy, delivered a little over half an hour ago.
Hey Katrina. I know you get up early. Call me whenever you want, if you’d like.
She made a face. It was only a matter of time before Andy saw the CafeBae nonsense. Of course her therapist would recognize Katrina and the café and check in on her.
This was timely. And talking to Andy was good for her. So why was she so reluctant to talk to her therapist about all this?
She could wait, have some coffee, but if she did wait, she’d probably put it off longer. She’d learned a long time ago some things were easier to do at dawn, when no one else was awake.
She petted the puppy for moral support and dialed. Andy picked up on the second ring, her voice calm and alert. “Hi, Katrina.”
“Hi.” She scuffed her sock-clad foot along the floor. “You saw?”
Andy didn’t pretend ignorance. “I did. Honestly, almost by accident, I ran across an article.”
“Did you recognize me instantly?”
“Yes. But remember, I saw you a few hours before the photos were taken. I can’t imagine anyone else would be able to figure out who you were.”
Wow. Had it only been three days ago that she’d sat in that café with Andy? When everything was chaos, the days could feel like years, she supposed. “Right. That’s what my roommates said, too. That chances are slim.”
“I think so.”
“I ran away.”
Andy paused. “Did you now. Where are you?”
“At my bodyguard’s family farm. NorCal.” Katrina trusted Andy to tell her the exact location, but she probably wouldn’t know the area.
There was a creak, and she imagined Andy sitting back in her leather chair. Katrina had never been to her office, but she imagined all therapists had leather chairs. “You went to stay somewhere else overnight. How are you doing?”
“Fine.” She knew what the next question would be. What did you learn from this exposure? “I learned waking up in a different place isn’t so terrible, especially if I try to keep some of my schedule the same. Actually, I’d forgotten how much I used to enjoy new experiences, and a farm is very new. There’s a lot to like about being here, beyond the fact that it’s not home.”
“Yeah, it would be new for me too. And, yes. You can absolutely make the unfamiliar familiar in certain ways.”
Katrina walked to the bureau to fiddle with her rock. “Those people—from the café—they’re going on TV today in a few hours.”
“I saw.”
“It’s going to bring more attention to me.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ve already considered all the terrible things that could happen, right?”
“Yes.”
“What are some alternative possibilities?”
Katrina made a face.
“Are you rolling your eyes?”
Was Andy psychic? “No. Um, I suppose . . . it could be possible people find out my name and nothing happens. Or it dies down on its own and I go back to my life.”
“Those are definitely valid possibilities.” Andy paused. “How’s this for a suggestion? I know you work on this a lot, but be more vigilant to your thinking patterns in a time of stress like this. When you start to catastrophize, take a step back and acknowledge you may be overestimating the probability that the worst will happen.”
That seemed like a reasonable enough suggestion. “Okay.”
“It’s not homework. It’s a suggestion,” Andy said, and there was a smile in her voice. “And remember to call me if you need me. Your support system is there to help you out when you need it.”
“Understood. I’ll try to focus on other things too.” Like how Jas will never love me. No, maybe not that.
“Always good to stay busy. Remember sometimes social media is flat and overly simple. It’s not the whole world, even if it seems like it sometimes. There’s millions of people out there who have no idea who CafeBae is.”
“Got it.”
“I can’t wait to hear all about farm life when you get back.”
They said their goodbyes and Katrina placed her phone on the bed. She quickly showered and changed. No newspapers here, but she’d catch up on the world online. Then breakfast, then work.
She left Doodle sleeping and tiptoed into the hallway. She paused outside Jas’s door. Was that a thud?
She stood in the dark hallway for a minute, and then heard it again. A thud, followed by a grunt. She knew his grunts. This was a pained grunt.