Page 107 of Anyone But You

I grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently.

“Someone has ants in her pants,” I whispered.

“I’m anxious,” she admitted.

“Me too. Therapists aren’t my favorite,” I shared.

She snorted.

“What you meant to say was thataccountabilityisn’t your favorite.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth.”

The door opened, and Dr. Matthews strolled in with a warm smile on her lips, displaying deep laugh lines from decades of smiling and laughing. Her silver-streaked hair was piled high on top of her head, secured in place by a pencil. She gracefullydropped into the leather chair opposite us after retrieving a notepad and pen from her desk.

“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey. How are you?”

“Fine,” we both muttered.

She nodded and scribbled on the pad. I couldn’t imagine what she possibly garnered from “fine” that required writing, but she was the expert, with her many glowing recommendations, degrees, and accolades on the walls.

“I hadn’t expected to see you again, Mr. Ramsey,” Dr. Matthews stated.

“Neither did I. I had left your office a little excitable.”

Victoria snorted.

“I already know what happened. You told him about himself and he acted a donkey. I’d apologize on his behalf, but you should see who raised him.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Oh? Do you not get along with your mother-in-law?” Dr. Matthews questioned.

“She’s a liar and can’t be trusted.”

I laughed and folded my arms over my chest before turning my attention to our therapist.

“My lovely wife is upset with my mother for missing dinner this weekend; however, they have a spa day arranged next Wednesday.”

“What upsets you about your mother-in-law missing dinner, Victoria?”

Victoria sighed and mimicked my posture, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Knox moved my mother from a memory-care facility to our guest house that he converted into a medical suite. She has full-time around-the-clock care, but I’m still involved with her day-to-day care.” She shrugged. “Since her arrival…well…we started making arrangements.”

“I’m sorry to hear of your mother’s decline,” Dr. Matthews sympathized.

“Rapid decline,” Victoria added. “I don’t know. A part of me feels like she held on long enough for me to return home.”

I reached for the tissues on the table beside me when I heard her voice crack. She accepted it from me and wiped away her tears.

“How does that make you feel?”

“I feel…like I’m not in control. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel that my life has been predetermined and—I don’t know what the hell I’m saying.”

“Take your time,” I voiced reassuringly.

“I think I’m trying to say that everything happens for a reason, but I don’t feel I’m making the decisions. Do you think I wanted to be an executive assistant to this nut?” she asked, shoving her thumb in my direction.