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“What color do you want?”
“Silver.”
“That’s what I thought. Here you go. I’ll be here at seven. Or do you want to just come over. We’re sleeping together tonight. You decide how you want to work it out and in whose bed you want to sleep.”
“I’ll be at your place at six and just get ready over there. Okay?”
“Perfect. Love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you back. See you then.”
I didn’t tell Pearce, but I had a three o’clock appointment with his friend, Phillip Sorensen, the psychiatrist he’d recommended a while back. If we were going to be married, I wanted to do my best to go into it as baggage-free as possible.
I walked into Dr. Sorensen’s office and was freaking out by this. I wasn’t sure about how I could reveal my most inner thoughts and feelings. My last counseling experience was abysmal, I hoped this was the right thing to do.
His office door opened, and he ushered me inside, telling me to make myself comfortable on one of the cushy leather chairs. He looked to be Pearce’s age, was heavy set, with blond hair and blue eyes. He wasn’t much taller than me, about five feet eightish, but he immediately made me feel at ease. A smile grew on my face.
“Hi, Ms. Hammond, it’s great to meet you.”
I reached out to shake his hand. “Dr. Sorensen, same here.”
“Okay, first things first. How would you like to be called?”
“I prefer Lexi.”
“Lexi it is. And please call me Phil. I like to dispense with formalities around here.” Then his index finger popped up. “There’s another thing I want to get out of the way. I know you realize Pearce and I are very close. We go way back, and I mean way back. All the way to kindergarten.” He laughed. “But keep in mind, you and I have a professional relationship in this office. Everything that we discuss stays in here and I’m not at liberty to discuss anything with him. Pearce would never, under any circumstances, ask me about it either, but I just want you to be clear on this. Okay?”
“Phil, Pearce doesn’t know I’m here.”
His brows furrowed. “Can I ask why?”
“I guess I wanted to do this on my own. I want to go into our marriage the right way. I have a lot of issues that need addressing and learning how to deal with them is my top priority.”
He asked some pointed questions about my past and things started centering around my parents. “Phil, I have to stop you for a minute. I will never make things right with them. They were the ones who destroyed our relationship and I’ll never be the one who extends the olive branch.”
“I don’t have a problem with that whatsoever. Your feelings about this rule.”
His response took a huge stone off my chest. The other counselor I had gone to tried to make me feel it was my responsibility to keep trying to have a relationship with my parents. I tried, I really did. But every time, I felt as though I’d been physically punched in the gut fifty times. On the other hand, Phil accepted my feelings and moved forward. Our session ended with my story about Peter and the accident and how I’d felt afterward regarding the guilt and blame I carried.
Phil and I decided that I’d see him twice a week for starters and then we could adjust our schedules. I felt good about him and let him know. I also told him about my last experience and that I was impressed by him already.
He laughed and said, “I wouldn’t be too quick to say that yet. We’ve only just started. But I’d like to say something. I appreciate your willingness to be this open already. Many patients have problems with that, and it can delay them getting better.”
All the way home I thought about what he said. I knew my biggest issue was going to be telling him about my slutty days. I was going to have to pull up my bootstraps, forge through, and get it over with when the time came.
I got home, jumped in the shower, and quickly got ready for my night out with Pearce. I packed a bag, picked out work clothes for the next day, and decided what to wear that night. I chose a black skirt with a sky-blue sleeveless silk blouse and a pair of black heels. I made sure I had the sex bracelet too.
Gathering all the papers for the Toyota, I ran across the yard and went to Lisbeth’s. She sat in her usual spot, so I pranced in and told her what Pearce had done.
“Under the circumstances, I can certainly understand that, dear. But I gave you that car free and clear. Alexia, you sell it and keep the money.”
“Good God, Lisbeth, I can’t do that! It’s only a few months old. It’s practically brand new and only has a couple of thousand miles on it.”
“Why don’t you do this, then? Whenever you and Pearce decide to tie that knot, use that money for your wedding gown?”
I grinned at her. “News travels fast, doesn’t it? I was getting ready to tell you that next! But I would never spend that kind of money on a wedding dress!”
“Darling Alexia, you are marrying a Middleton, and when you walk down that aisle, you will be swathed in a designer gown if it’s the last thing I make you do on this earth. Now run along and take those keys and title with you. Have Pearce sell the car for you and use that money for your bridal trousseau. You hear me, young lady?”
