Make Me Yours(28)

“Huh.” Drew tilts her head to the side. “I had no idea Remi could sing. That’s really neat.”

“So now you’re thinking it might be an appropriate idealization?” I nod my head being very I told you so.

“I’m thinking we’ll have to take him to karaoke next time they do it at the Red Cat.”

“They do karaoke at the Red Cat?”

“It’s something new they’re starting. Now that all the college kids are coming over from Charleston. Gray told me about it—apparently Billy told him.”

“Oh shit, I suck.” I stand and walk over to her desk again. “I’ve been so knocked out by this tsunami named Remi, I haven’t even asked. How’s it going with Gray?”

“You know, I’m going to let that slide.” She taps her pen on the notepad. “Because you’re right. Remi did sort of come out of nowhere.”

“So Gray’s back… and things are good?”

A smile curls her lips, and the light in her eyes makes my personal concerns take a momentary backseat. I love seeing my friend so happy—especially after all the shit she’s been through, how long she’s waited, and all the assholes who tried to destroy her happiness.

“I can tell things are good.” I give her a wink. “You’re glowing.”

Her lips press together, and she makes a sneaky face. “I am glowing, but not just because I’m so happy.”

It takes me a second to catch up, but when I do. “Holy shit, you’re pregnant?” My voice is a shriek, and I’m on my feet jumping up and down. “You’re pregnant!”

She starts to laugh, and she’s out of her chair hugging me. “I am.”

“We’re going to have a shower and we’re going to pick out all these cute little baby clothes… What are you having?”

“Don’t know yet. It’s super early, so don’t tell anyone.” She leans on her desk and her expression dims slightly. “They say in the first six weeks anything can happen.”

I’m not hearing any of that. “The only thing that’s going to happen is we’re going to have a blast! I can’t wait… and let me know if you need help with anything. Lillie’s in school every morning, so I can run errands.” My lips twist and I nod. “It might actually be helpful not to be lurking around the house most mornings alone.”

“Don’t you have things to do? He can’t be paying you all that money just to drive Lillie around.”

“Everything’s pretty much Lillie-based. I feed her, change her clothes, help her clean up, do little activities with her, do her laundry…”

“What a sweet gig!”

“Which is why I cannot fuck it up.” Walking over to collect my things, I get an idea. “Maybe if I got my own place. I’ll be able to afford it… Hell, by next week.”

She rearranges her notebook and pen getting ready for her next client. “Will he go for that plan? I thought he hired you to be there at night in case she needed you.”

Chewing my lip, I toss my bag over my shoulder. “I guess I’ll have to ask.” I hear the noise of people in the lobby and blow her a kiss. “Thanks, bae. Take it easy and let me know everything that happens with the new baby. How far along are you?”

“Five weeks.”

“So next week we can tell everybody?” I’m excited.

She waves, shaking her head and laughing.

I say hello to Hunter on the way out, and he studies me with that always-serious expression.

“You look really happy today.” His eyes move around my face, and I await some comparison to Martha Mitchell or Dorothy Hunt. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be a therapist.”

Nodding, I pat his arm. “Or maybe I should be a different kind of therapist.”

“There are five broad approaches to psychotherapy—”

Drew steps to the door. “Hunter, your appointment has begun.”

He tells me a quick goodbye and starts for her door. Dotty is the clinic receptionist. She shakes her head as Hunter leaves, and I give her a quick wave before heading to the door.

“Let me know if she needs anything or starts looking tired.”

“Something wrong?” She’s frowning, and I do a little zipper motion across my lips.

“You’ll know soon.”

“Miss you around here!”

I don’t want to say Hunter’s right, and I don’t really miss talking to patients. Instead, I give her a squeeze, and I’m on my way to pick up Lillie.



The rest of the week goes pretty much the same. I sneak out with Lillie before everyone’s up, we eat Egg McMuffins, and I get her extra ketchup packets.

“Are eggs bad for me?” Lillie picks at the corner of the cheese slice on her perfectly round poached egg.

“It’s more about how they treat the chickens.” Not that I’m one hundred percent sure the eggs on our breakfast sandwiches are real.

It’s better than Taco Bell, I guess.

“How do they treat the chickens?” Her little brow furrows, and I’m not about to get into the ethics of poultry farming with her.

“Some people prefer getting eggs from chickens who run around farms. They’re called free-range chickens.”