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“We totally need to come back again soon,” I tell Dempsey as we get back in his car.
“Hell yeah. I knew I’d have you falling in love with this place.”
“Do you think it’ll survive much longer?”
“Gemma.”
“I know, I know. I promise not to tell the world about it. But seriously, though, if she ever mentions closing, I’m going to break my promise.”
“Fine. Then and only then are you allowed to put this place on blast.”
With my belly full and in the company of my obnoxious brother, I’m feeling tons better than this morning. Both the weirdo and creep who tried to ruin my day can go to hell.
I’m done being bothered by either one of them.
Two
This building smells like fresh paint.
It’s giving me a headache.
Everything is so…new. Fresh. Perfect.
I instantly hate this new therapist on principle. He’s probably some uppity dude who’s going to want me to try eating organic or do some weird-ass light therapy.
Not interested.
The only reason I’m here is because Dad wants me to be. I’ll sit in the office, bore him to death with my hobbies that hardly anyone cares about, and then bolt out of here just in time for my next class.
When I go to open the office door inside the building, it’s locked.
Behind me, the building door opens and a young, sharply dressed man hurries in, a to-go coffee in one hand and a bag in the other.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” he says as he makes his way over to me. “The line at the coffee shop was insane. Jude thinks I need a coffee maker here in the office, but nothing tastes as good as when someone else makes it, am I right?” He grins at me. “Tate Prince. I’d shake your hand, but, you know, priorities.”
I smirk when he holds up his coffee like he’s toasting. “Two.”
“I figured,” Tate says, juggling his stuff to unlock his door. “Your dad told me all about you.”
“I bet that was fun,” I deadpan.
He laughs, pushing in through the door. “Your dad said a lot in our ten-minute conversation. A lot of really good stuff about you. I wish my dad had cared even half as much as your dad clearly does.”
A twinge of guilt niggles at me. “What can I say? I’m his pride and joy.”
As Tate sets his coffee, bag, and keys down on his desk in the corner, I take in the small space. Despite the building being new, his office is cozy. Rather than using stark paint, the office is decorated in wallpaper that’s a throwback to another time period. I definitely approve of the selection and Dad would too. Instead of a leather couch like in all the movies or stiff chairs like at Dr. Wynn’s, Tate’s office has two plush chairs that sit in front of a plug-in fireplace.
“Can I offer you water or anything?”
“I’m good.”
I take a seat in one of the chairs and then fiddle with the fireplace to see what kind of heat it puts out. I’m impressed when it immediately starts blasting me with warmth. Maybe I need one of these in my shop. My little space heater sucks…when I actually remember to turn it on.
Tate eventually joins me with his coffee. I note that he doesn’t have his laptop or notebook. Dr. Wynn loved to write things all over her yellow notepad when I’d visit.
“Where’s your stuff?” I ask, gaze darting back to his desk. “Don’t you, like, need to record everything to report back to Dad?”
Tate brings his coffee to his lips and takes a sip that makes him do a giddy dance in his chair. “Coffee is all I need. And everything we talk about is between us. Your dad doesn’t get a report. If you want to tell him, you’re more than welcome to.”
