Confidential(82)

I stopped walking, because I didn’t want her following me inside. “Do I know you?”

“No. But I know Michael Baylor very well. And you haven’t been part of the Wednesday lineup in a little while, which means this might be a social call, and that means you’re likely in need of a warning.”

I hesitated, trying to fit the pieces together. “So your relationship to Michael is . . . ?”

“I’m his ex. His ex-girlfriend and his ex-client. We met when I was his client. It was couples therapy. He stole me out from under my husband fifty minutes at a time.”

“You’re making him sound diabolical.”

“He is.”

No, if anyone was off, it was her. “How do you know that I haven’t been coming to see him for a while?”

She obviously didn’t like the turn this conversation was taking. I was supposed to just accept everything she said at face value. Was that how she was used to operating in her life? Spoiled brat. I could believe she’d been a client, but the rest must have been her fantasy. The man I knew wouldn’t be romantically involved with someone like her.

Wait, he’d said he just had a breakup. Could it be . . . ?

No. Absolutely not.

“Excuse me,” I said, and went to walk around her.

She planted herself directly in my path. “No one wants to believe it about him. He’s that good.”

“Excuse me.” It was angrier this time. This was the father of my baby she was talking about. She had no right to interfere in my happiness.

“There are other women who’ve lodged complaints against him, and then withdrew them after he paid them off.”

I didn’t want to, but I found myself thinking of the $100,000 deal. Michael was a successful therapist; why did he need that money?

I’d told myself it was the high cost of living in the Bay Area. Everyone needed more money.

She could see that she’d struck a chord, and she moved a little closer. In for the kill. “He’s sleeping with another of his clients right now. Her name’s Lucy. She’s the tall blonde woman, his six o’clock. You’ve probably run into her before.”

I knew just who she was talking about, but it was too fantastical. That woman was obviously coming apart at the seams. Michael would never.

And this woman in front of me . . . She’d been seeing him for couples therapy, she said, but she could still have been deranged. If she hadn’t been then, she was now.

“We can’t let him get away with it anymore,” she said. “We need to band together.”

I laughed at her. “Mete out some vigilante justice? Is that what you’re talking about?”

“I’m talking about stopping him. Exposing him. He’s abusing women.”

“He hasn’t abused me.”

“If you’re sleeping with him, then he’s abusing you.”

“Well, good thing I’m not.”

Her face turned sympathetic. She thought I was lying, covering for him. “I was in love with him, too. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.”

“I’m sorry that he didn’t feel the same.”

“He doesn’t feel that way about you, either. He’s incapable of true love. He’s a monster, and I refused to believe it.”

Just like I was refusing. I couldn’t stand to hear it, not now. What I wanted was to go off and have my sparkling-cider toast with the father of my child.

Could I really be carrying the baby of a monster?

No, it couldn’t be. She had to be out of her mind.

I needed her to be out of her mind.

“Don’t feel bad,” she said. “He’s good at what he does—at seeming to be what you want most. Or he’s just good at picking women who see what they want in him. Projection, or transference, or whatever.”

“I forgot something in my car,” I said, as if it was any of her business. I started to walk away, and she chased me again, this time pressing her card into my hand, and I took it, because this woman, this Flora, needed to be investigated.

I went around the corner, out of her line of sight, and leaned against a building, trying to catch my breath.

The night was ruined. There were too many questions, too much to think about. I couldn’t go forward with our celebration, not like this. I had to delay it until I could look him right in the eyes and raise a glass to all that was ahead of us.

I texted Michael. Have to cancel, sorry. Who knew you could have morning sickness in the evening? Talk soon!

I was putting Flora’s card inside my purse and saw there was writing on the back. Call me. I have the proof.





CHAPTER 67





LUCINDA


During the session, I couldn’t stop looking at Dr. Baylor/Michael. I mean, normally I looked at him, but this was different. I was wondering what he was capable of, whereas typically, I was thinking about what I was capable of, for better and for worse.

It was impossible, what Flora had said, and yet, she’d been so convincing. On the back of her card, like a little teaser, it said that she could show me the proof.

I almost asked him about her, but I knew he’d have some explanation, some story, and he’d be convincing, too. I needed to see her proof first. I didn’t want to believe it, but I’d been duped before by a man I loved.