Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
I drop them to the floor and sit up. It shouldn’t matter. She and her mom don’t think twice about making a mess of my place.
“I have twenty minutes. What’s going on?” she asks, sliding her hands into her coat pockets.
“Chief Killmer said he’s been seeing you for three years,” I say for whatever reason. Probably because witnessing her in her element has caught me off guard, and for a second I forget why I’m here, so I say the first thing that pops into my head. “I thought kids were your specialty.”
“Kids make up 80 percent of my practice. Not all of it. And I can’t discuss my patients with you. So I can neither confirm nor deny anything. If that’s why you’re here, I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time.”
I shake my head. “No. Uh, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because, as we speak, your mom is shopping for art supplies to paint a picture of me.”
Everleigh is in Dr. Reichart mode. She doesn’t so much as flinch. Not a twitch of her lips or a slight raise of an eyebrow. “Oh, sorry about that. You can say no. Did you try that?”
“Not exactly. I told her I don’t have anything nice to wear.”
“It’s a nude painting.”
I give her a dead stare. “I’m aware now.”
“But you didn’t tell her no?”
“I didn’t know what to say. She gave me this look. It was as if she was daring me to say no. I felt like my manhood was being challenged.”
“Will, you don’t have to take off your clothes to prove you’re a man.” She scrapes her teeth along her bottom lip for a second. “I realize you’ve taken off your clothes for charity calendars.”
I frown while standing. “That’s not accurate because in those calendars I’m wearing my gear, minus my shirt. I’m far from naked. Besides”—I run a frustrated hand through my hair—“what is she going to do with it? Gift it to me like I really want to stare at a naked painting of myself?”
“She’ll probably give it to me for my birthday.”
My face sours.
She waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry. I don’t want it either. I mean, I’d be fine with it if your legs were crossed or folded off to one side. Maybe a hand tastefully placed in front of you like a fig leaf. I think penises and scrota are ugly. Don’t you?”
“Is that a trick question?”
She grins, lifting one leg to sit on the edge of her desk.
I study her for a few seconds, seeing everything I should have seen when we met. “When you weren’t wearing makeup, I thought you looked young, like a teenager, not a girl in her mid-twenties. I should have followed that instinct.”
She deflates. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Because you feel guilty? Because you know it’s true?”
She rolls her eyes. “I told you I can’t be your doctor. Stop trying to get free therapy.”
A slow grin steals across my face. “I’m going to send you a bill for putting out your fire.”
“I pay taxes, so I’ve already paid for it.”
“What’s up with gaming during work?” I nod toward her head even though she’s no longer wearing the VR headset.
“I use virtual reality exposure therapy, especially with children. I’ve designed and patented several programs, including one that can be personalized for a patient’s unique needs. For some, it’s easier to deal with reality when it’s not actually real. It’s a transformative tool for anxiety disorders, involving gradual exposure in immersive environments. VR is a great place to practice coping skills.” Everleigh’s whole body straightens as she talks. Confidence gives her petite posture an extra inch or two.
“Your work might be cooler than mine. But maybe not. We have robots we can send into fires. Do you have robots?” I ask.
“Not yet.” She folds her hands in front of her. “But I’m working on it.”
It’s hard not to let my gaze linger on her because every day feels like I’m seeing her in a different light. “Well”—I glance around the room as if I haven’t inspected its minimalistic decor a dozen times in half an hour—“I’d better let you get back to work. I’ll tell your mom I haven’t properly manscaped in a while, so I’ll have to pass on the painting offer.”
“Just tell her no. It’s that simple.”
“Yeah, but she’s probably purchased supplies.”
“Oh, William. You really need to find your voice.” She slides her phone out of her coat pocket, then her thumbs speed across the screen. “There. I just told her you don’t want to be painted. And she won’t waste any supplies because I’ll let her paint me after work.”
Well, shit.
A nude painting of Everleigh. Do I like that idea?
Before my dick thinks too hard about it, I open the door. “Thanks. I appreciate it. And for the record, my voice works just fine.”