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“Goddess,” he rumbles, his warning tone saying more than words ever could.
She shrugs but looks a little chastised. “What? All the antibiotics they feed….” She doesn’t finish her sentence, so he must’ve given her a look that stopped her in her tracks. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Not the time. Love you, sis.”
“Love you too,” I murmur from the other side of her husband’s big body, and he leads me toward his study.
He guides me to the overstuffed leather chair and gestures for me to sit, then he takes the matching couch in front of me, seeing my brow is furrowed when he looks over at me. “Are you comfortable?”
I nod. “Yeah. Of course. It’s just… strange. At your office, you always take the chair, and we sit on the couch.”
He gives me a small smile before saying gently, “This couch is… special. I don’t allow anyone but your sister to sit on it now.” And at the twinkle in his eyes, I can imagine what would make a couch special and reserved solely for one’s wife, and my entire being flushes.
My hands go to my cheeks, and I press my cold fingers to my heated face. “This is what I’m talking about!” I cry out, my eyes filling with tears of frustration this time rather than self-pity.
“I missed what you and Astrid were talking about before the fast-food banter. Why don’t you fill me in on what’s bothering you?”
Instead of trying to calm myself and speak rationally, I blurt the first thing that pops into my head, which means it’s the God’s honest truth. “I don’t think I’m good enough for my husband.”
As stoic as Dr. Neil Walker normally is, I’m able to catch the split second his expression falters—his thick eyebrows dipping, his eyes narrowing slightly as there’s a blip of confusion within them, the tiny backward jerk of his head as he’s caught by surprise.
My husband is Doc’s very best friend. His brother, though not by blood, and not just because the two of them are married to sisters. They’re extremely close, the family they chose for themselves. He knows everything about Seth, down to his deepest, darkest secrets. Even more than I do, because of their many years of friendship and working together. Since that day Doc contacted Seth when he earned his master’s from MIT at the age of twenty, after having graduated from high school when he was thirteen, offering the certified genius a position as the tech guru behind a team of mercenaries Doc was putting together. When Seth heard Doc’s story, about why the world-renowned psychologist wanted to form a group of badass but stealthy mercs who focused their sights on rapists, he didn’t even hesitate. He was all in. And ever since that very moment, they’ve been thick as thieves, literal partners in crime.
But no one knows that. To everyone else, they own just a normal, everyday security company—not at all involved with the untimely deaths that look like complete accidents.
So I guess I should take it as a good sign that Doc looks taken aback by my outburst, seeing as he knows Seth better than anyone. He would be the one my husband would go to if he needed to vent to someone about being unhappy or unsatisfied. But still.
“What brought about these feelings? Did something happen? Did Seth say anything that would lead you to believe he’s disappointed with you in some way?” Doc asks, and his questions come rapid-fire, his voice tighter than I’ve ever heard it in the many official therapy sessions we’ve had at his office. His tone sounds almost… protective over me. Like he’s about to call up Seth and give him a stern talking to, which is both heart-warming—knowing my brother-in-law cares about me, and enough that he’d defend me against his own best friend—and startling, because…
“No! Seth has never spoken an unkind word to me since the moment we met. And nothing happened. It’s more… something hasn’t happened,” I tell him, seeing Doc immediately relax back in his special couch.
“All right. Good. Okay. Explain what you mean by something hasn’t happened.”
I push my glasses back up my nose and look upward, trying to find the words to help me make him understand. “Well, it’s like… take you and my sister for example. The two of you are so different from each other, but your differences seem to fit each other, like puzzle pieces. Where she has weakness, you seem to be extra-strong in that area. Where you’re super chill and this… calming presence, Astrid—thanks to you—is back to being her bright, exuberant self. Yet you adore her wildness instead of being uncomfortable around it, and your chill doesn’t, um… ‘kill her vibe,’ as Seth would probably say. Instead, it’s like she gets you to live a little, and you make her feel as if she’s not ‘too much,’ like she shouldn’t dull herself down just because some people might find her extra-ness intimidating.”
He nods. “And you feel that you and Seth aren’t like this?”
“Right,” I confirm.
He looks at me seriously. “Firstly, you do understand that every successful relationship is different, right? It’s not always an opposites-attract type of?—”
“Of course,” I interrupt. “I see all sorts of couples come into the shop. But I’m not talking about the opposites-attract thing. I’m more concerned about the part where Seth and I haven’t really… rubbed off on each other. Like how you calm Astrid when she may get overstimulated. Or how you get her to tone down a little when she could get herself in trouble or not realize when she’s being overbearing. Like in the kitchen a minute ago. You didn’t even say anything. You did some crazy Jedi mind trick, and she chilled on the bossy older sister thing she likes to do.”
“Jedi mind trick?” He raises a brow. “Twy, you just disproved yourself by saying that.” He grins. “Seth and his pop culture references have rubbed off on you enough that you now use them in conversation too.” He chuckles at my look of surprise.
“Well… I…. No. Not the same, Doc. Totally not so simple a thing as that. I’m talking about bigger, more important influence. Like… um… you know, sexually,” I finally get out, my face in flames once again. “See?” I screech, pointing to my blushing cheeks. “I can’t even say the word ‘sexually’ without getting embarrassed! I manage a freaking adult novelty shop, and I’m married to a Dominant who owns a whole freaking BDSM club. I am completely submersed in sex stuff twenty-four seven, and yet I never get acclimated to it. Not even slightly. Shouldn’t I be able to at least hold an adult conversation about… those things by now?”
“Twyla, you?—”
I huff, cutting him off. “And yes, I’ve been this way since Seth met me, but I can’t help but think he likely hoped I’d loosen up with time. Become more… adventurous, or at least be able to follow his orders without clamming up like I’m still the freaking virgin he first met. And I feel as if being this way is a downer.” My eyes tear up again, my frustration quickly turning into a feeling of unworthiness. “He’s so… perfect to me. Everything I never even knew to dream of. I could not be happier than I am with him as my husband. He’s my everything, and the best dad in the whole world too. And I just….” I shake my head. “He is an incredible Dom. There hasn’t been a single moment between us that made me think—not even for a second—that he shouldn’t somehow be officially acknowledged as the world’s greatest Dominant. If there was a competition, he would win it. Just like everything else, he’s a genius in BDSM as well.” My lip wobbles as I take a breath, and the last part comes out defeated. “And I’m not even close to being the sub he deserves.”
The room is quiet for long seconds, and Doc gives me time to come to grips with finally speaking the things that have been bothering me for months, if not longer. It’s always been in the back of my mind, but I was able to brush it off by telling myself it would just take time. It might take a while, but I’d get used to it. I’d be able to speak nonchalantly about this highly sexual world of ours, just like my husband and all our friends. Just like my sister.
But I’m still just as sensitive to it as I was the day I started working at Toys for Twats.
A box of tissues appears in my line of vision that had been aimed at my lap. I take one, thank Doc quietly, and use it to wipe beneath my glasses.
“Twy, with this, I feel it’d be beneficial to you if I spoke more as your friend than as your therapist. Even though it would be inappropriate for any Dominant other than your own to speak to you about such things, in this case, I’m coming to you more as your husband’s best friend, who is also your friend, letting you in on some things you might not realize. Do I have your consent for this conversation to be worded in a casual, familiar way instead of as a professional psychologist with his patient?” Doc asks, and my heart swells even more toward my brother-in-law. He’s such a wonderful man, and I’m so happy my sister gets to spend the rest of her life with this incredible human.
I nod. “Yes. Please. I’d really like that.”
