Page 117
“How about exciting.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Ew, no. It was a forced thing. My parents needed the money, and he’s a Saudi Prince, so… You know.”
Dr. Falllon sighs as she smiles a very polite, “I don’t believe a word of it” smile.
“Britney, would you like some tea?”
“Do I have to make it?”
She arches her brows significantly at the shoelaces binding her wrists to the kitchen chair.
Right.
I start to poke around her kitchen looking for mugs and tea bags as Dr. Fallon tries to direct me. After I open the wrong drawer for a third time, I give up and cut her free with a switchblade.
“You’re not, like, gonna run or try to overpower me, are you?”
“Britney, it’s two AM and I’m in my thirties. I will not be running anywhere or overpowering anyone, trust me. And I do make a very nice cup of tea.”
Turns out she really does.
“What is this?” I groan in delight a few minutes later as I take a sip from a steaming mug.
“Rooibos vanilla.”
“It’s delightful.”
Dr. Fallon smiles warmly across the kitchen table at me before she too takes a sip of tea.
“So,” she nods slowly. “You got married.”
“Yeah, but…” I shrug. “I don’t know if we work? You know, as a partnership.”
Dr. Fallon takes another sip of tea. I suck on my teeth for a second.
“I lied. There’s no Saudi Prince. I married Blandrew.”
Surprise lifts her face. “Oh?”
“It’s a family thing,” I finally say. “There was an outside threat to our families’ businesses. So…yeah.”
“You got married to help your family?”
My brows furrow. “Huh. I guess I did.”
She nods a slow, “therapist” nod, absorbing what I just said.
“Why don’t you think this partnership will work?”
“Well, you know. He wants a white picket fence, I think wrought iron has better curb appeal. He thinks the good china is for guests, I say if I own good china, I’m fucking using it. And don’t even get me started on public versus private school—”
“Britney…”
I sigh. “Right. Baseline of truth.”
“At least a scrap of it would be helpful.”
I nod, putting my thoughts in order. Which, honestly, is no small feat.
