Page 35 of Not in the Plans (London Lightning #1)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

OLIVIA

Sienna

Good luck today, love

Imogen

Remember, as someone who has been to a lot of therapists, tell them how you’re feeling

Imogen

It will suck, but we’re here for you

Sienna

Yes. Come over after and we can decompress with you

Olivia

I love you guys

Imogen

We love you

Sienna

xx

L ocking my phone, I stuff it into my bag and fold my hands into my lap.

I’ve never been more nervous in my life.

Plain, beige walls hold photos of trees and the beach.

My guess is it’s to put people at ease, but it’s not helping.

Can anything really help when you’re going to spill your guts out to a stranger?

I know it helped Tag after his divorce, but will it help me? And the thought of Tag again makes my heart feel like it’s crumbling out of my chest.

“Miss Montrose?” a warm voice calls out for me. Not that it matters because I’m the only one in here. It belongs to an older woman with short, curly brown hair. Glasses sit perched on her nose. “I’m Hannah.”

“Hi.” The plastic chair creaks as I stand, grabbing my coat and bag to follow her back to another room.

This one feels less sterile. Soft music is playing, and the sweet scent of lavender perfumes the air.

Plush pillows sit on the couch, and a crystal glows on the small table.

There are no pictures of trees or the beach, but bright swatches of color.

I don’t know why, but these feel more calm. Soothing.

“You can take a seat on the couch,” Hannah tells me, taking the seat opposite me. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you.”

Sitting down, I set my bag and coat next to me and cross one leg over the other.

“First time seeing a therapist?” she asks.

I nod. “Is it that obvious?”

“It’s okay. We all have things we need to address at different times. Why don’t you tell me what brought you in today?”

“Okay.”

Perspiration dots my brow as heat chokes my throat.

“Take your time, Olivia.” She gives me a warm smile .

“It’s hard for me to talk about these things.”

“This is a safe space. Tell me when you’re ready.”

“It’s just…my parents didn’t like emotions. They were too messy. It was easier to keep things inside.”

“Do you still feel like emotions are messy?” she asks.

“Yes?” I clear my throat. “Things had to be perfect growing up. The better grades I got, the more attention I got from my parents. If I got a bad grade, I got a stern look and that was it. There was no room for messy things like feelings.”

“Emotions are messy. You’re allowed to feel messy.”

“That’s something I’ve heard before.”

“But you don’t believe it?”

“It’s hard when I grew up not believing it. At least not until…”

It’s the first time I’m talking with this woman and I don’t know how much I want to divulge.

“Until what?”

Well, I guess she took care of that.

“I met someone. Someone I really liked.”

“And how is that going?”

“It’s not. I ended things.”

She gives me an understanding nod. “Why did you end things?”

“It got too messy. He wasn’t in my plan.”

“Messy because you were feeling things?”

I can only nod my head because thinking of Tag is too painful. My chin quivers.

“What if I told you messy things can be wonderful?”

That grabs my attention. “How?”

“It seems this person you met meant something to you? Probably still does?”

I nod and she continues.

“Maybe this person was showing you how life could be. It doesn’t have to be perfect and planned out, but can be messy and imperfect together.”

“But…I had a plan.”

“Okay. Tell me about your plan.”

Shifting, I pull my legs under my butt and sink back into the couch. I pick at a stray thread in the hem of my jumper.

“I wanted to find a nice guy, get married, have kids, get a dog, and find a good flat in the city.”

Hannah recrosses her legs and adjusts her glasses. “It seems to me you’re already following your plan.”

“But Tag isn’t the right guy.”

“Says who?”

“My parents wouldn’t approve.”

“Ah.”

“Oh my God.” The air leaves my lungs. “The plan I’ve always had in mind came from my parents.”

With not much family, it was the three of us. It was their marriage that was the model for what I wanted in life. Dad went to work, Mum stayed home and then had dinner and a drink ready. I would do my schoolwork, eat with them, then go back to my room.

“I created an entire life plan based off people that never showed me love.” Tears well in my eyes before spilling over.

Hannah nods. “It’s hard when the people that are supposed to love us don’t show us that. If we don’t have a model of a healthy relationship, it can be hard to find one as an adult. You have still tried to be the person they would approve of even now.”

I go on to explain to her about my parents moving to the city and our run-in at the restaurant.

“After what happened, it’s clear they don’t care.” I brush an angry tear away. “And I pushed away the one person who actually did.”

Hannah holds out the box of tissues to me, and I grab one. Now that the tears have started, it’s hard to keep them inside.

“I feel so stupid,” I confess.

“You’re not,” Hannah corrects me. “Keeping a lot of these emotions repressed and bringing them to the forefront of your focus is hard. We don’t know what we don’t know.”

I sniffle. “I’m feeling very messy right now.”

“It’s okay, Olivia. Messy is okay.”

I dab the tears on my cheek, letting the soft music flow into me as I take deep breaths.

“Tell me how you’re feeling,” Hannah says.

“I’m confused. I’m sad, but at the same time, it feels good to realize this.”

“It’s hard. But I’m going to give you some homework.”

I smile at her. “I didn’t realize I’d have work to do for this.”

“Sometimes. I think you’d benefit from journaling your feelings. Whether it’s sad or happy, I want you to sit with them. Feel them. It’s going to be hard, but journaling is a good way to do this.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

“That’s all the time we have for today, but let’s make an appointment for next week. You made great progress this week.”

“Thank you, I’d like that.”

After making another appointment, I slip into my coat and walk out. With extra tissues in my pocket. My heart is raw. Everything feels scrubbed down and left open for everyone to see.

Tension builds in my head as I step out into the sunshine. It feels weird to see the sun shining so bright when I’m a jumbled mess.

I was skeptical when the girls told me I needed therapy to work through my issues. Turns out, they were right. One visit, and I’m learning things about myself.

Maybe it means if I work through them, I could have a future with Tag…