Page 15 of Walk of Shame
Dr. Kowecki’s eyebrows dipped down in the middle, and she wrinkled her nose before letting out the bless-your-heart of soft sighs.
“Have you ever thought about what you want?” she asked. “Not what you’re protecting yourself from. Not what you are determined to avoid. But what you really want?”
A clammy ribbon of panic wound around her lungs, and she shot a frantic glance at the stained glass clock on the wall. “I want lots of things.”
“Uh-huh.” The therapist nodded in encouragement. “Like what?”
“Good friends—which I have with Thea and Nola.” Ten more minutes. She just had to make it through six hundred seconds of keeping up the unbothered act. She could do it. She had to do it. “They’re amazing.”
“Friends are important. What else?”
“Eventually a bigger apartment so I can have space to leave my jigsaw puzzles out and get a Maine Coon.” She clasped her hands together to keep from fidgeting with the tassels on the couch pillow. “To never, ever, ever, ever be the subject of a media frenzy like what happened after the thing.”
“You mean the stories about you and your ex.”
“I mean the absolute fucking nightmare of having every detail of my worst day ever and buckets of speculation about why it happened, what I did wrong, how evil I was for not supporting my man, and even more bullshit debated on social media to the point that leaving the country was the best alternative.”
“Understandable, but you know you don’t have to keep running,” Dr. Kowecki said, not unsympathetically.
“Yeah, and that’s why I came back and started my personal organizer business so that I could regain control of my future,” Astrid said, firm in her belief that she’d made the best choice by never looking back at the disaster that had been. “Speaking of which, I want to add employees to my company so vacations are a possibility—even if it’s just a staycation.”
“Excellent plan. Taking time to refill your well is essential,” Dr. Kowecki said. “What else?”
She wiggled her toes in her shoes, needing to get out the nervous energy that had snuck in out of nowhere that made her all jittery inside. “What else is there?”
“That’s for you to tell me.”
Astrid looked over at the clock again. Five minutes. “Well, I can’t think of anything else—not a single thing.”
Dr. Kowecki leaned forward, her gaze kind. “Not even starting to look for someone who you could maybe share your life with? A romantic partner isn’t a must in life, but it can be very nice to have that bond with another person, to know they love you and will always be there when you need them.”
“I have Nola and Thea for that,” Astrid interjected.
The therapist nodded with a dip of her head as if to say, Point noted. “I’m only asking because despite all of your self-imposed rules not to fuck where you sleep, eat, or recreate, which you’ve followed to the T for the past five years, you had sex with a person who supported you—whether you needed it or not—that you cannot avoid seeing again.” She paused as if giving Astrid time to prepare. “When you got up today, did you regret the other night with him?”
Something complex and sharp and uncomfortable started creeping forward, winding around the barricades she’d built and slithering closer like it deserved to be here. She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, using all that air to shove that thing back in the deep dark where it belonged.
“No regrets,” Astrid said, hating the quiver in her voice. “Never. He had a good time. I had a good time. Everyone had orgasms.”
“Astrid, you know I didn’t mean regret the sex. Did you have second thoughts about breaking your own rule?” Dr. Kowecki looked up and waited.
They’d played this game before. Astrid never won. Finally back to well-traveled ground, Astrid’s shoulders relaxed, and she let out that breath she’d been holding.
“I guess I just didn’t think about it with Cal,” she said with a well-practiced, casual shrug.
“Very interesting.” She cocked her head to the side. “I wonder if this is you telling you that you’re finally ready to stop trying to outrun yourself and engage in more meaningful relationships even if you can’t acknowledge it.” Dr. Kowecki glanced over at the clock and shut her notebook. “That’s our time, but before our next session, I want you to think about the fact that change and taking risks can be uncomfortable, but it’s the only way to grow.”
“I love change, and I take risks all the time,” Astrid said as she stood up and wiped her clammy palms on her skirt. “After New Orleans, I backpacked through Europe, I moved to a new city, and I started my own business, plus I’m the only one in my family who has ever had raw oysters.”
“Commendable,” the therapist said, “but what kind of chances and risks have you taken with your heart after what happened? How have you opened yourself to experiencing the world and other people that included true intimacy?”
“My body count says that answer is obviously all the time,” she said with a wolfish wink, playing up that part of herself she was most comfortable with.
“Astrid.” Frustration leaked into Dr. Kowecki’s voice. “We both know I didn’t mean that kind of intimacy. What happened with your fiancé—”
“Ex-fiancé,” Astrid interrupted, her pulse kicking up the same way it did every time she heard that damn song on the jukebox at the pub.
“What happened was painful, but don’t you think it’s time you moved beyond Tig?”
