We Were Never Here(69)

“What happened to your notebook?” That’s what felt odd about today’s session: In place of the typical spiral-bound pad was a sheath of printer paper stuck to a clipboard.

“Oh, it’s somewhere in my back office.”

I tilted my head. “So it’s missing?” She’d assured me that all we talked about, everything she jotted down, would remain confidential.

“No, I—I didn’t see it when I got here, but I was running late and didn’t want you to wait.” She leaned forward. “So. It’s going to take some strength to change the dynamic. Because she’s going to push back, and you, too, will be tempted to return to what’s comfortable.”

I nodded slowly. “I know. But things are different now.” Now I had Aaron. And now the scales over my eyes were thinning by the day. “Aaron and I started dating while Kristen was in Australia. And things were great. Our relationship didn’t feel fragile until Kristen showed up in Milwaukee.”

    Had she flown all the way to Wisconsin to come between Aaron and me? After all, she’d materialized on my doorstep, abracadabra, just a week after I told her about him and, in the same breath, said no to her backpacking pitch…

A new thought popped: God, was it really a coincidence that she lost her job the second our trip ended? Or had she quit her job and switched to plan B when she noticed I wasn’t calling her every hour, like I had after Cambodia? When she realized I was diving headfirst into a new relationship—one that might really go somewhere with her nine thousand miles away, unable to call the shots? When she figured out that the ties of fresh trauma hadn’t bound us together like she’d hoped?

Adrienne scribbled something on her printer paper, then tapped the pen’s cap. “You’ve done a lot of great work in just a few weeks,” she said. “Deciding to stand up for yourself is huge. It takes an enormous amount of bravery, especially since it sounds like Kristen won’t let go without a fight.”

Stop. Stop. Stop. I was an idiot. I knew what Kristen was capable of—I’d seen it firsthand.

Her gaze vaulted to the clock on the wall. “That’s all our time for today.”

I gathered my things and said goodbye. Alarm was sweeping through me, growing in speed and intensity. Maybe I was being paranoid—maybe this was all a huge misunderstanding, and I was misinterpreting Kristen’s innocent gestures as some scary Single White Female shit. But if my terrifying hunches were correct, sweet Lord, I needed to avoid her—and keep Aaron far away from her too. This wasn’t the kind of thing we could talk out: So, Kristen, you killed another man and moved halfway around the world to make me yours alone, huh? Does that mean I should fear for my new boyfriend’s life?

I trudged down the hall to the waiting room. Someone was hunched over their phone on the sofa there, and I gave a bland smile without making eye contact. My hand had just grasped the doorknob when the stranger spoke.

    “Emily?”

My heart dropped. I froze and turned slowly, first my head, then my whole body.

Kristen raised her eyebrows and smirked. “Well, hello.”





CHAPTER 28


She is stalking you. It’s what my brain spit out first, a warning, the same low voice that pipes up when you pass a group of leering dudes or walk too close to the edge of a cliff. Back off. Run away. Fight or flight, cortisol and adrenaline conspiring to keep you safe.

She frowned and gave a little laugh. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” It came out as defensive, and I swallowed hard.

“I’m seeing a therapist. For an intake.” She glanced down the hall, then at me. “Priya recommended her. I didn’t realize you were going here?”

I dropped onto a seat. “Priya told me about this place too.” I tucked my purse onto my lap. “Are you seeing Adrienne?”

“Um…” She glanced at her phone for a moment, then nodded. “Adrienne Oderdonk? It’s going to be hard for me to not accidentally say ‘Badonkadonk.’?” She cracked a smile. “I finally took your advice. You’ve been telling me to see someone and I figured as long as I’m, you know. Careful with my words, it’s okay.”

I thought, You lie. I thought, You’re so tidy at explaining things away. But instead I said, “So we’re both seeing a therapist in secret! So Midwestern of us.”

“I know! Hashtag-stigma.” I heard Adrienne’s door open down the hallway and stood to leave. “Well, good luck.”

“Text me later,” she called.

I was almost to my car by the time the other details fell into place: Adrienne’s missing notebook; that faint thunk outside the door. And how, just a few days ago, I’d confessed to Kristen that I wished I could come clean, unburden myself of the truth about Sebastian and Paolo. Had Kristen figured out I’d be here and somehow confiscated notes from my session to check what I’d told Adrienne? To scan for anything incriminating, make sure I wasn’t skating too close to the truth? Or had she followed me to the therapy practice, skulking in the shadows and then pressing her ear to the office door? Calm down, Emily, you’re being ridiculous.

    But what if I was right?



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