Page 141 of Wait for Him

"How has the last week been?"

"Isn't it obvious?" I gesture at the house, at myself, at the whole exhibit.

"Things aren't usually as they seem," he says, settling back with his coffee. "How about you tell me in your own words, and I won't assume."

"I miss home, I guess. I let myself get on social media to check in on everyone. I miss them." I turn my mug in a slow circle against my knee. "Him. Today's his birthday, and I've never missed his birthday. Not once since I met him."

"Are you ready to go home?"

"No." The answer comes out faster than I expect. "But I don't feel any different than when I got here, so at this point I think I'm just hiding."

He doesn't argue with me. Not that I’d expect him to. He just takes a sip of coffee and lets the statement sit there until I start getting irritated with my own words.

I shift in my seat and pull my legs underneath me.

"You've been watching the court case," he says.

I nod.

"Is it bringing you any sense of closure?"

"Closure feels relative at this point. Wesley may go to prison, but now I have to contend with knowing it's his son I've been in love with all these years. How do I wrap my head around that?"

"You've said Jackson doesn't have a relationship with Wesley. You've also said Wesley isn't his biological father." He pauses. "So what do you think is driving the connection for you?"

I open my mouth and realize I don't have an answer waiting.

That's the thing about Campbell. He asks questions that sound annoyingly simple until you actually try to answer them.

"I don't know. Proximity, maybe? Jackson grew up in that man's house. I'm sure he has some of his mannerisms. The way he holds a fork. Certain phrases. Things that don't matter." I look down at my coffee. "But my brain keeps trying to connect them anyway, like if I'm not careful enough, loving Jackson becomes some kind of..."

I stop.

"Some kind of what?"

I take a breath.

"Betrayal."

He waits.

"Of myself. Of the woman on that office floor." My fingers tighten around the mug. "Like she'd look at me standing beside him and think I forgot her."

Dr. Campbell is quiet for a moment.

"Do you believe Jackson knew what Wesley had done at any point before you did?"

"No. When he found out, it broke him. That much I know."

"Then I think that's worth separating from everything else." He sets his mug down. "You keep describing small similarities your mind is searching for. A mannerism. A phrase. The fact that they shared a house. But none of those things tell you who Jackson is."

I don't say anything.

"What does?"

I know where he's going now.

"What he did when he found out."