Page 32

CHAPTER 31

EMERSON

I sit on the couch in Gunnar’s jersey and boxer briefs, clutching the mug of coffee his mom thrust into my hands along with a shot of whiskey. “It’ll help, I promise,” she says, treating her mug to the same booster.

I should be embarrassed to be sitting here so unkempt in front of this woman, but I’m so tired from lying awake all night reeling over how my relationship with Gunnar feels so good, but it stands to derail everything Gunnar has worked so hard to achieve.

Juniper grabs a bakery bag and her coffee, then sits with me, staring into my face as she takes a long sip of her drink. “First things first, I know my son, and he’s absolutely gone for you. I don’t understand why he waited so long to bring you into our lives and share you, but anyone who knows him can see that he has taken the puck of his heart and slammed it into the back of your net. Or something.”

I choke out a laugh. “Did you just make a hockey metaphor? Is there a goalie, or am I just…a net?”

She rolls her eyes and rummages in the bag, pulling out a scone and gesturing with it as if it’s a pointer. “You know what I mean. And while I won’t pretend to know you super well yet, I think I might be correct in saying that you care about Gunnar, too.” She arches a brow and waits for my confirmation.

It flows naturally. “Yes. I love him.” I haven’t said that out loud, and as soon as I do, I wish that Gunnar had been the first to hear me speak those words. But there’s more to the story, unfortunately. “I just don’t see how I can stay with him without ruining his life.”

I start to cry as soon as I give voice to the worry that’s kept me up all night, wondering how my father managed to worm his way into this world I’ve chosen, where the stuffy attitudes of the Upper East Side are far away. The people around me care most about helping each other be themselves.

Seeing my distress, Juniper places her coffee mug on the floor and scoots down the couch, drawing me into her arms. She wraps me in a firm embrace that feels so different from the hugs Gunnar gives. “Hey,” she pats my hair. “Gunnar’s life is far from ruined. He’s got a big web of people making sure that doesn’t happen.” I cry harder as I listen to her reassurance. I don’t know what to make of this- of kindness and promises of support.

“But my father!” I sniff and notice I’m getting tears and snot on her shirt, but she glances down and then into my eyes.

“Honey, I have four sons who play elite sports. I’m not afraid of snot.” She places a firm finger under my chin and tilts my face up. “And I’m not afraid of your father. Do you really think my husband is intimidated by yours? We already have our lawyer going after him for defamation and libel. Gunnar’s agent has sent his research to Tim’s legal team. Okay?”

My heart races and sputters as if my body cannot accept that there are forces in the world greater than my father’s influence. I close my eyes and take some deep breaths. Juniper rubs my shoulders. “That’s it, Emerson. Let’s get you calmed down.” She sits with me as I breathe, and when I open my eyes, she hands me the coffee again, which I accept. Juniper watches me while finishing her own drink. “Do you have someone you talk to? Professionally?”

I arch a brow in confusion.

She nods her head. “I work in family law. The people who come before my bench are dealing with a lot of complicated issues at home, like divorce, abuse, neglect- you name it.” I sink back into the arm of the couch, physically retreating from those uncomfortable words I’m hesitant to associate with. Juniper taps her fingers on her leg. “One thing I do is connect everyone with social services, mental health professionals, and support groups. It helps more than you might realize.” She smiles. “I’d love to recommend some folks I think you’d click with. Would that help you process all this change?”

My mouth is dry when I open it to speak. I shake my head. “I don’t know. That all sounds really serious.”

Juniper spits out a laugh. “There’s nothing more serious to me than someone threatening my family, and that includes you, dear. I’m going to leave some names on the counter. What’s on your plate today?”

I scrunch up my face, trying to think. “I know I was going to help with some Scale Up classes later…”

Juniper stands and slaps her thighs. “Well, that means we have a few hours to make some calls and try to get something scheduled for you, right?”

I think about my discomfort with this idea and my reluctance to bare my soul to a stranger. Although I just met this woman, but I trust her because I trust Gunnar. Juniper believes therapy could help me feel better and navigate the turmoil happening outside my relationship.

I owe it to Gunnar to try this. I’m not sure why my stupid instinct was to run away … to where? With what resources? I take a shaking breath. “Okay,” I tell my mother-in-law. “I’ll give it a shot.”

Juniper urges me to shower and clean up while she checks her contacts, and by the time I re-enter the kitchen, she has a short list of a few names. She offers to stay and support me when I start making calls, but I don’t want to take up all her valuable time, and I really don’t want to make these calls in front of anyone else, so she heads out with a promise to check in throughout the day.

I leave voicemails for the first two women on Juniper’s list, but I’m taken aback when someone answers the phone on my third try.

“This is Zara. How may I help?”

“Oh.” I cough. “Hi. I was hoping to check if you’re accepting new patients...clients.” My voice wavers.

“Yes, I am.” The therapist sounds excited. “Would you like to do a brief intake now? I had a cancellation this morning.”

“Oh.” I grip the phone tighter. “I don’t know what that entails.”

“Well,” Zara responds, “how about you tell me what brings you to therapy, and we can start from there?”

“I…” I glance down the hall to the trophy-cello room, thinking of Gunnar. “I recently got married. Sort of impulsively. And it’s bringing up a lot of…family stuff.”

“Hm. I see. Do you want to elaborate a little?”

“My father is very controlling,” I admit, licking my lips and standing to pace the apartment as I talk. “He’s trying to sabotage my marriage by spreading rumors to damage my husband’s career. I was considering leaving my husband to make my father stop, but …” I swallow hard. “I don’t want to do that. And I’m scared of what will happen if I stay.”

I hear the scratch of pen on paper in the background, and Zara’s voice is pointed when she asks, “Are you physically safe right now? Tell me more about being scared.”

“I’m safe.” I feel the truth of it as I say the words. “I’m physically safe. My husband and his family say they have everything under control with lawyers. But I’m not accustomed to feeling this way.”

Zara hums again in the silence after my confession. “Not used to feeling safe?”

I nod, remembering she can’t see me, and say, “Right. I’m … I’ve always been on edge around my father.”

She hums again, and the pen continues to scratch as she presumably takes notes on my dramatic response to all this. “Emerson, have you been in therapy before?”

I can’t help the laugh that slips out as I tell her, “Um, no. That’s never been on the table.”

“Well, I’m very glad you called and chose to start now. I want to ensure you understand that you deserve to feel safe and protected, and working in therapy can help you achieve that.” My breath comes rapidly, and I sit on the floor, absorbing Zara’s words. “You are allowed to be happy, Emerson. Would you like to schedule an appointment and get started?”

In a haze of adrenaline, I tell her I’m wide open during the daytime hours. I locate the insurance card Gunnar left for me and provide Zara with all the information, scheduling an appointment for the next day. I’m stunned by how much better I feel when we hang up the phone.