Page 59

I dreaded when the evening would fade in.

I stayed in bed for the rest of the day, skipping out on yoga classes, the quiet room meditation, and apparently, a group therapy session too.

I had a bomb ass nap though.

I also had the time to take a long shower and blow out my hair, which may or may not have been on purpose.

Monroe likes my natural hair, so I went the opposite route.

I styled it in loose waves, wearing my hair in a middle part.

I didn't do any makeup, I just gelled down my brows and applied my usual lip liner with gloss.

Then I pulled on a long-sleeve black shirt, which was very low-cut.

I purposely wore one of my best bras to emphasize my chest, wanting to get more of a reaction out of Monroe.

She's been getting reactions out of me, so I'm hoping to turn the tables tonight.

I also want to take back my own control.

She can't control what I wear.

I pulled on matching leggings with the shirt to keep my outfit basic since it's only dinner, sliding on my cheetah print Adidas Sambas.

By the time I sprayed on my perfume, I was right on time, but a part of me wanted to be a little late.

The later I am, the less time I'll be at that table.

And the last thing I want to eat is rigatoni.

Maybe a small part of me was looking forward to sharing a meal with Monroe after so long, but I knew better than to give in to those thoughts.

I'll also have Dr. Kincaid focused on my eating habits, so this doesn't feel like a good idea.

None of this does really.

Dr. Kincaid and Monroe at the same table?

I hope this night doesn't end in a mass massacre.

Yet somehow, I could see Monroe having the power to cover even something like that up.

I really don't put anything past her.

My stomach was twisted in knots as I approached the familiar main building, unconsciously slowing down my walking.

I felt anxious, somehow knowing this dinner wouldn't end well.

There are too many factors here, I'm not even sure how it would go well.

I drew in a deep breath, slipping inside the warm building where a faint chatter echoed.

I walked closer, my steps soft against the floor as I passed through the lounge area toward the dining room.

My heart raced in my chest, my breathing shallow as I drew closer and closer to the dining room.

I forced a smile as soon as I crossed the threshold, noticing people conversing and getting seated at the table.

It's just now starting, which I would've been mad about, given I want to spend less time at this table.

But now that I'm here, I realize I would've been the only one walking in with everyone seated at the table, eating.

I think that entrance would be worse.

"Liberty," I heard Dr. Kincaid's familiar voice.

I glanced over immediately, noticing her seated at one of the tables, wearing the same sweater and dress pants from earlier.

Except her dark hair was pulled back out of her face.

"Hey," I said, keeping my glossed lips pursed into a smile as I approached her at the table.

"Here," Dr. Kincaid offered, pulling the chair out beside her.

It was a direct way of telling me to sit beside her, and I knew why.

Or I thought I knew why.

Either to look over my eating habits, or for the same reason she's having me watched.

Again, I really should've asked Monroe more questions.

"Thank you," I murmured, sitting next to her in the cushioned seat.

"Of course," Dr. Kincaid said as I unconsciously glanced around the long table and the other table just feet away.

But no Monroe.

A small part of me was disappointed, but I also knew this was for the best.

"So when is the food coming out?" I asked, briefly glancing in the direction of the kitchen.

"In a few minutes," Dr. Kincaid told me as I met her dark eyes.

Until I heard the familiar sharp click of her heels.

My eyes naturally glanced over, but I quickly forced my stare on the table in front of me.

I didn't look in her direction once as she approached.

My heart still ticked in my chest with each step she took closer toward the dining tables.

I unconsciously glanced across the table, feeling relieved that the chairs across from me were taken by two of the patients.

But it didn't stop Monroe from taking the empty seat beside one of them.

I could feel the weight of her stare on my face, sitting across from me, just one chair over.

Now I'll have to physically prevent myself from glancing over.

Great.

I nearly let out a breath of relief when the kitchen doors opened, different staff members holding plates of pasta.

Hopefully, we can speed this along.

I pursed my lips as one of the servers set a plate of pasta in front of me.

There were at least three scoops of pasta and a piece of bread.

I already know I won't be able to finish even a fourth of this food.

"Hungry?" Dr. Kincaid asked me, making me purse my lips tighter.

"Not that much," I admitted, grabbing my fork.

"Oh, you already ate?" Dr. Kincaid just had to ask me.

"I did—yes," I awkwardly whispered, pushing the pasta around with my fork.

But I couldn't help myself.

I subtly glanced over, but there was genuinely no way to be subtle about it—

When I locked eyes with Monroe.

Her attention was already on me, sitting calmly in front of her untouched plate.

Her soft dark hair was down, wearing a white blouse tucked into black dress pants.

Her skin glistened under the dim lighting, a darkened look brimming behind her eyes.

I could tell by the look in them.

It was a warning.

Or maybe past a warning?

"What did you eat?" Dr. Kincaid snapped me away from my thoughts, making my stare shift back down to my plate.

"It was—" I smacked my lips together, "Well, breakfast, but it was a lot of food, so I'm still full," I lied, refusing to glance up from my plate.

"Breakfast?" Dr. Kincaid clarified as I continued poking the saucy rigatoni pasta, "Maybe try a few bites. I'm sure your body is hungry."

"Yeah," I murmured, lifting the fork to my lips for a small bite.

The rigatoni was warm against my tongue, but the familiarity of it only reminded me of one woman at this table.

"How is that, Liberty?" Dr. Kincaid asked.

I immediately glanced over to Monroe when she rolled her tense shoulders back, her stare shifted away from me entirely.

It was what Dr. Kincaid said—how she lowered her voice with me, the softness of her words.

I knew it bothered Monroe, especially now that she knows Dr. Kincaid flirted with me a few weeks ago.

"It's really good," I finally answered, meeting Dr. Kincaid's dark eyes instead, "I'm happy I came."

"I'm happy you came too," Dr. Kincaid said with her usual soft smile, holding my stare.

Until one of the people beside her interjected, asking Dr. Kincaid about tomorrow's agenda.

I focused back on my plate of pasta, but it felt really hard when I could feel her blue eyes burning into me yet again.

I ignored her on purpose, knowing it'd bother her more.

I kept taking small bites of pasta, minuscule even.

One pasta noodle per bite, and even that made me feel uneasy.

Then I felt it.

Dr. Kincaid leaned into my ear and whispered—

"I'm proud of you."

I could smell her tropical scented perfume, feel the warmth of her body barely grazing mine.

Even the softness of her breath against my ear.

My thoughts short-circuited, unable to physically form a verbal response.

Her praise didn't remotely strike me the way Monroe's would.

But I'm also very gay, so... it somehow made my face annoyingly burn up.

Then I heard it—a sharp throat clear.

Monroe.

And that managed to strike me deeper than Dr. Kincaid's praise, drawing in a deeper breath as I turned my head slightly.

Dr. Kincaid had the usual smile on her lips, coated in matte lipstick.

"Thanks," I said, even if I wanted to play dumb about what she was proud of.

But the last thing I wanted to do was dig myself deeper into the topic of my eating habits.

I glanced over when a soft clicking against a glass sounded.

And there was Monroe, standing sharply from her chair, her blue eyes trailing the room.

I noticed the firm grip on her glass, how her posture was stiff.

She's irritated.

Probably past irritated for once.

She's mad.

"I want to voice how impactful this trip can be for each one of you.

Showing up for yourself this weekend is a huge deal, and that shouldn't go unnoticed," Monroe calmly spoke when everyone grew silent, her eyes briefly locking with mine as everyone nodded with smiles.

"Dr. Kincaid, did you have anything useful to add? "

I pursed my lips at her targeted words, how her stare shifted over to Dr. Kincaid with absolutely nothing behind her blue eyes.

I could see the detachment—feel the coldness of her words.

It made everything in me tense.

Yet, Dr. Kincaid stood from her chair with her smile still prominent.

It was bold of her.

So much so that I wondered if she knew Monroe couldn't handle her the way she wanted.

"To add to Dr. Leclair's statement—"

"Oh, don't add anything to mine," Monroe calmly cut her short, keeping her tone soft, but I could hear the passiveness behind her words, "Feel free to say something of your own."

Oh my god.

I drew in a deep breath, cautiously glancing between them both.

Everyone around me seemed so oblivious.

That's how masked Monroe's words were.

But I knew Dr. Kincaid was smarter than that.

She has to know.

"Well, I'm very proud of you all," Dr. Kincaid started, earning a dismissive hum from Monroe.

I swear I want to bury myself alive right now, what the fuck.

"So far, everyone has been present and willing to work on themselves," Dr. Kincaid added, her stare briefly locking with Monroe's, "It's been lovely to witness."

"Very lovely," Monroe murmured, clasping her hands together as she calmly sat back down.

Her tone was neutral, but the distaste was definitely there.

"Yes, so—" Dr. Kincaid cleared her throat, her stare shifting back to Monroe, "We should thank Dr. Leclair. She's the only reason this is possible."

I pursed my lips tighter at her words, knowing it was entirely too late to extend credit to Monroe.

Dr. Kincaid is trying to smooth over something rocky to begin with.

It will only make this worse.

Monroe lazily raised her brows when everyone started softly clapping, "Thank you," she murmured, glancing around at everyone, as if to withhold her generosity from Dr. Kincaid, "A lot of things surely wouldn't be possible."

I blinked a few times at her directed words, awkwardly staring forward as Dr. Kincaid silently sat back down beside me.

Everyone started lightly conversing again, but I swear, all I could do was stare forward.

I don't even want to know what's going on inside Monroe's head right now.

But she definitely has no right to pull what she just did.

She can watch me, control what she wants, but jealousy isn't on the table after ending things with me.

"I need to use the restroom," I suddenly murmured before Dr. Kincaid could say anything else to me.

The last thing we needed was another passive speech.

And I'm far past irritated with Monroe's behavior.

It's so confusing, and I'm tired of having to figure her out.

I'm also done.

I'm so done with trying to figure out where her mind is.

"It's down that hallway to the right," Dr. Kincaid motioned as I stood from my chair.

I nodded silently, feeling her blue eyes pinned on me as I walked away from the table.

The soft chatter echoed in my ears as I focused on walking toward the hallway nearby.

I dared Monroe to follow me, but only so I could get it through her head that I'm done.

My heart pounded in my ears as I walked down the silent wide hallway, anticipating her presence.

But the further I went, the clearer it became—she wasn't following me.

Maybe it was too obvious if she left after me.

I'll just have to table this conversation for later.

Or maybe not talk to her at all.

Maybe I should just remove myself.

That would irritate her—

I drew in a breath when I heard the distant clicking of heels.

Each click was sharp and precise.

She followed me.

Surely that was suspicious?

Or maybe Monroe doesn't even care.

She doesn't have to care, considering how much influence her last name alone brings.

Or her ties with the government.

I picked up my pace toward the bathrooms when I heard her steps quicken, feeling her verge much closer to me.

I turned the corner fast, reaching for the bathroom door—

A gasp fell from my lips when I felt her firmly grab the back of my neck.

I stumbled back when she yanked me, my grip missing the door handle entirely.

"Monroe," I gritted, trying to twist out of her hold

She didn't say a word.

She just pulled me further down the hall by my neck, her strength overpowering mine like it was nothing.

It was degrading being dragged like this, fighting her as best as I could.

But it only made me stumble over my own feet, and her grip tighten on my neck.

It wasn't hard to piece together that she's past irritated.

But what truly pissed me off?

It's that she has no right to be.

"You're acting insane," I mumbled under my breath as she opened the door.

"I'm not acting," was all Monroe said, pulling me inside by my neck.

She finally let me go, making me fucking stumble as I tried to steady myself on my feet.

I glanced around the office, and I could instantly piece together that it was hers.

From the clean black desk to the books all arranged by height on the bookcase.

Nothing was out of place.

It was a precision only Monroe could have.

"You don't get to be mad about her," I immediately said, turning around to face her.

"Let's start with your eating habits first, Liberty," Monroe said, catching me off guard.

I guess I expected her to care, given that she would always ask what I ate, but I didn't realize it would be the first topic of discussion.

"It's none of your business," I said as she took a firm step closer to me, "Nothing about me is your business anymore."

"Your entire existence is my business," Monroe had the nerve to say, making me roll my eyes.

"I'm done with this," I determined, my words firm as I took a step closer to her—

And grabbed her shoulders.

Monroe briefly glanced down at her arms, acknowledging my firm touch around her biceps.

I clenched my jaw, trying to stay focused.

But touching her made it hard.

I could also smell her, and—

Focus.

"I'm only saying this one more time, so listen to me carefully, Monroe," I said, my voice lowered as I stared up at her, "Look at me when I say this."

Monroe's blue eyes shifted away from my hand around her arm, meeting my stare with a sudden calmness that made everything burn around me.

There was no anger.

No irritation.

She just stared neutrally at me.

"You can watch me, you can even try to control things around me, like a literal massage," I spoke through the tense silence, "But you can't force me to confide in you, Monroe. You can't be a part of my life that you walked away from."

My words were drawn out, hoping she would finally process this properly.

But all she did was remain silent, staring down at me with a look I couldn't read.

"Have I made myself clear?" I said, wanting some form of acknowledgment of my words.

Monroe still remained silent—I don't think she even blinked.

Then suddenly... I felt her relax underneath my touch.

A soft hum even vibrated in her throat.

But she didn't say a word.

"Say it, Monroe," I said, staring so deeply into her eyes, darkened with unknown, "Tell me you understand."

The air grew tenser when Monroe drew in a visible breath, her stare not wavering from mine.

There was something behind her eyes, the way she looked down at me.

"I understand, Liberty," she murmured so softly that it made goosebumps tickle my spine.

I drew in the deepest breath of my fucking life when she grabbed my waist—tugging me closer to her.

Her familiar sweet scent wrapped around me, her body warm against mine.

"But I'll never agree," she added with a firmness that challenged the entire basis of my words.

My lips parted when she gripped my ass through my leggings, her soft nails digging into my covered skin.

I wordlessly stared into her dark blue eyes, unable to form proper words.

All I could do was look at her.

And all she did was look at me.

The little space between us begged to be closed.

But neither of us moved.

We just stared at each other, the air growing warmer and our breaths more audible.

You could hear each deep breath we exchanged, our faces inches apart.

I knew not to.

My thoughts screamed at me not to.

But it all happened so quickly.

Something flipped between us—

And we both leaned in before either of us could process it, desperately closing the space.

Everything inside of me melted away the moment her soft lips met mine, moaning into the breathless kiss.

I know better.

But god, she feels so good.

I stumbled back when she pushed me against the nearest desk, cupping my ass and cleanly lifting me onto the cold surface.

She spread my legs with her body, kissing me deeper as I reached for her soft hair.

Monroe groaned so perfectly against my lips when I tugged harshly at her hair, slipping her fingers under my shirt and up my bare back.

I gasped breathlessly when she scratched her nails down my back, forcing me to curve into her with a whine.

Monroe hummed in approval, kissing me deeper as she slid her soft tongue past my parted lips.

The kiss between us was breathless, growing fucking animalistic as we nearly devoured each other.

I know better—this is bad.

Yet I arched deeper into her, wanting to be pressed as closely as I could against her warm body.

My entire body burned—a pulse growing between my thighs as she subtly spit into my mouth, sliding her tongue in deeper.

Fuck.

Our kisses quickly grew wetter and louder, the sound of our lips connecting driving me fucking insane.

Nothing has ever felt this good before.

It felt like every inch of my body was on fire, torn between wanting more and knowing this was so bad.

Very bad.

I whimpered when Monroe sucked down on my bottom lip, tugging at it as she pulled away.

My eyes fluttered open, meeting her blue eyes darkened with nothing but insanity.

I openly held her stare as she smoothed her tongue against my lip before releasing it completely.

But Monroe wasn't satisfied.

No.

She leaned down to my neck instead, impatiently pressing her soft lips against my skin.

"Monroe," I breathed out, gripping her soft hair tighter between my fingers.

A moan burned in my throat when she roughly tugged at the low neckline of my shirt, exposing the black bra I wore.

"I despise this shirt," she mumbled against my skin, "Never wear it again."

My head grew dizzy as she trailed soft wet kisses down my neck, angling herself against my lower body.

"Have I made myself clear?" Monroe purposefully said against my neck, quoting my words from just minutes ago.

"No," I decided to say, even if it was barely audible through my deep breaths.

But Monroe heard me.

I whined when I felt her nip even harsher at my skin, her teeth sharp against me.

"Try again," was all she said, sucking down on the skin above my bra.

I withered under her, feeling her suck harder when all I did was whimper in response.

But I refused to agree to her words, and I knew Monroe didn't like that.

She continuously sucked harder on my skin, staying right above the hem of my bra.

Her grip grew firm against my waist, grinding my core into her lower body.

My moans were soft—breathless even as I began grinding to her pace.

"Don't wear this shirt again, Liberty," she repeated against my chest, her words lowered and firm with me.

"Okay," I unconsciously forced out between breaths, "I have... other colors I'll wear instead of this one," I added purposefully, not giving in to her full demands.

"Liberty."

It was a final warning.

The way she said my name, her tight tone.

But I didn't care.

"You ended this," I reminded her, feeling her smooth her tongue against me.

Almost like she was drawing something on my skin with her tongue.

My eyes fluttered open, glancing down at my exposed chest—

Which was marked with hickey's, arranged as her initial.

It was a fucking branding.

And the bruised M was more than noticeable against my tanned skin.

Anyone could lay eyes on it and know it was an M, especially with how precise Monroe had done it.

It was purposeful, almost to withhold me from exposing my chest to other people.

Or specifically—having sex with them.

At least not without getting questioned about the mark she left me with.

Then again, I couldn't sleep with someone else if I tried.

But something tells me Monroe is concerned about Dr. Kincaid specifically.

And now I'll have to see this every time I get undressed in front of a mirror.

Or even in the shower.

It sucks because we both know that this moment changes nothing between us.

I suddenly tugged the neckline of my shirt up, making Monroe's blue eyes shift away from my chest to meet my stare.

I didn't say anything.

I only nudged her away from me, but Monroe didn't move an inch.

All she did was silently stare at me, like she was urging me to understand something without saying it aloud.

I already said I'm done reading her, and I meant it.

"Liberty," she said as soon as I slid down from the desk to step past her.

For once, I remained silent, not even bothering to meet her halfway and discuss what just happened.

It's weird...

I don't regret kissing her, but something about it makes me feel like I flushed all my progress down the drain.

I would do it all again, too, and that makes this so much worse.

I need to leave this place right fucking now.

"Let's discuss this, darling," she softly murmured, gently grabbing my waist.

I didn't meet her stare.

I even tugged out of her grasp, determined not to let her suck me back in.

"Have a good night," was all I said, not bothering to gauge her reaction to my words.

But something physically cracked inside of me when her hand slowly fell from my waist as I passed her.

There was a clear reluctance behind her actions.

It was the way her hand openly lingered before letting me go entirely.

I assumed she would follow behind me out of the room, but for once, she let me go without another word.

And I didn't glance once over my shoulder.

I refused to look at her again.

A deep breath fell from my lips, feeling a heaviness weighing me down as I walked back down the hallway.

I decided to take a small detour, walking toward the back of the building without passing through the dining room area.

Sure, it was fucked up to not go back, but there's no absolute way I could sit there and pretend like my lips weren't just against Monroe's.

I headed to my room instead, packing everything back into my suitcase.

I didn't care about folding my clothes or ensuring it was all neat.

I just threw everything in there, sitting on my suitcase to zip it up completely so I could get the fuck out of here.

I walked quickly out of my room and down the illuminated pathway, the cold night air breezing past me.

By this point, the stupid dinner had concluded, so the main building was silent.

There wasn't any faint chatter or clattering of utensils.

Just pure silence.

I quickly unlocked my phone as I rolled my suitcase along beside me, navigating to the Uber app.

But for once... my range was out of the pickup zone?

Maybe it was the long driveway or security area at the gates, but Uber wasn't having it.

I decided to download the Lyft app instead, walking slowly past the lounge area toward the dining room.

"Liberty?"

I glanced up immediately at her familiar voice, meeting her dark eyes.

"Dr. Kincaid," I awkwardly forced out, subtly stepping in front of my suitcase.

But she had already glanced down.

She noticed it.

"Are you leaving?" she asked, walking closer to me. "You never returned to dinner, so I had them box up your food."

I forced a smile even if the last thing I wanted to do was eat right now. "Thank you," I murmured, "I also need to head back to Seattle—my friends are having a personal emergency," I lied.

Zion and Sarai literally just sent me a few random TikToks in our group chat.

All is more than well with them.

"Oh, I hope everything is okay," Dr. Kincaid said with furrowed brows.

Her genuine reaction made me feel bad for lying.

Monroe would've seen through—

Stop comparing them.

"Yeah, everything should be. I'm just having trouble with an Uber?" I mentioned, flipping my phone around for her to see.

"Yes, Dr. Leclair has it set like that," she briefly explained, making my brows furrow, "I can request a personal car for you. It'll only take a few minutes."

I nodded, "Okay," I said, even if I was processing the fact that you could do something like that with Uber.

I've never heard of a place where you're unable to send drivers.

I get an island or something—or maybe not, considering there would even be transportation within the island.

But this... is a little insane.

I guess that shows how much power Monroe has, though I'm not even surprised.

Luckily, it didn't take that long to get one of the drivers here, just as Dr. Kincaid told me.

Maybe five minutes, but they seemed to be on standby.

It was the same black SUV with heavily tinted windows.

The driver greeted us with a kind smile, taking my suitcase from me to put it in the trunk.

Dr. Kincaid followed me toward the car, watching as I opened the door and stepped on the ledge to slip inside.

"I'll put my number in your phone, so you can text me when you make it safely," Dr. Kincaid said, holding her hand out for my phone.

Her words naturally caught me a little off guard, glancing over to meet her dark eyes.

But she was entirely serious, and I didn't really know how to decline her safety measures.

So I unlocked my phone and navigated to my contacts, creating a blank one for her to put her information in.

I watched as she typed her number in first, tapping the name blank to type in as well.

Celia

That's what she typed into my phone.

Her first name?

"Text me as soon as you make it back," she said, her tone firmer than usual, handing me my phone back.

"Yeah," I murmured, eyeing the contact she made, "Sure," I awkwardly added, trying to process all of this.

I think Monroe might actually kill her if she witnessed any of this.

Or she'd at least find a way to, given the connections Dr. Kincaid seems to have.

"Have a safe trip back. Send your friends my best wishes," Dr. Kincaid said as she backed away from the open door.

"Thank you, have a good night," I murmured, earning a nod from her as she gently closed my door.

I faced forward as the driver buckled his seatbelt, putting the car into drive and slowly pulling forward.

Dr. Kincaid stood by the front entrance of the building, watching the SUV I rode in.

She didn't move.

At some point, I couldn't see her in the distance anymore.

I also couldn't see the retreat either, forcing me to focus ahead.

My phone was still illuminated in my lap, displaying her freshly made contact.

I didn't know what to think.

I wanted so much more information on Dr. Kincaid, but that would involve one person specifically.

And that's not a good idea right now.

Or ever.

Then I remembered there's someone else in this equation.

Maricel.

I quickly pressed the button for the partition, separating the backseat from the front for privacy.

Just in case, considering this driver knows of Dr. Kincaid.

I pressed Maricel's contact, which was a little further down in my call log.

Nerves bundled in my stomach as I lifted the phone to my ear, listening to the call ring through.

I almost wondered if she might be busy.

It is Saturday night...

I probably should've texted first—

"Liberty, hey, mamicita."

I smiled out of relief, "Hey, sorry if I'm interrupting anything," I said, leaning against the door.

"No, you're all good. I was getting ready," Maricel briefly assured me, "What's up?"

I pursed my lips together, unsure how to begin this topic of conversation.

Not without revealing that I know more than I originally led on.

Or possibly risk exposing my arrangement with Monroe.

"I didn't realize you knew Dr. Kincaid," I spoke before I could think it through, wondering what I would even say to follow this up with.

"Dr. Kincaid? Wait, Celia?" she emphasized, clearly taken aback by what I just said.

"Yes, I was at the retreat and she mentioned that she knew you," I quickly lied, nodding to myself at how believable it sounded.

"No, no-no," Maricel sighed deeply, making my brows furrow.

"You don't know her?" I asked in confusion, wondering what she meant.

"No, I mean, yes, I do," Maricel quickly clarified, making my confusion double, "She's your new therapist?"

"Yes?" I said almost as a question, but I felt really confused.

"Ay, you stay away from her," she told me, her voice serious as ever with me, "You need to switch therapists."

I leaned away from the car door. "Wait, why?" I asked, even if a part of me knew.

Monroe said Dr. Kincaid made a move on Maricel.

But clearly, there's more here?

"I won't say over the phone," Maricel determined, "You never know who listens."

Internally, I agreed, especially knowing the power Monroe has.

I wonder how far Dr. Kincaid's power reaches.

"We could meet up then? I left the retreat early since it wasn't for me," I quickly told her, even if it was a partial lie.

The retreat wasn't "for me" because I made out with a certain woman for minutes on end, and now her initial is marked on my chest in the form of hickey's.

I should've done the shit back to her now that I think about it.

It would've only been fair.

"I'm getting drinks at this new bar with two of my clients. You should join, and we can discuss all of this," Maricel said, snapping me from my thoughts.

For once, I didn't mind the idea of drinking, but only because it wasn't to mask the pain of something or forget a specific memory.

I didn't want to drink to feel free.

I just wanted to have a little fun, maybe try a new drink on a menu or something.

It didn't feel like a risk to my progress, not with my positive intentions for once.

"I'm down for that," I suddenly determined, "I should be back in Seattle in a couple of hours."

"Ah, great, we're meeting at ten. I can send over the address for the bar," Maricel told me, making me nod a few times.

I should be back by nineish, so that gives me time to throw something on.

I probably won't do any makeup, given the time crunch, but my hair already looks pretty good, so that's a plus.

"That sounds good. I can't wait," I spoke, snapping away from my thoughts.

"Okay, I'll see you soon, mija," she said, and within seconds we had ended the call.

The silence around me was deafening, and all I could think about was what Dr. Kincaid did to Maricel.

Monroe was also at the front of my head, wondering how she would react to my sudden departure.

I don't think she'll even care, honestly—she might even think it's better this way.

But maybe it is.

Maybe space is better.