“Fuck the right thing.”
I handed the flask back to my best man with a smirk. “You know you’re in a church.”
He drank from the flask. “I’m going to hell already. What’s the difference?”
I laughed. At twenty-four, my best friend had already been politely asked to leave the NYPD. Asked was a polite way to say quit or we fire you. He wasn’t exactly an angel.
“I care about Alexa. We’ll make it work.”
“I haven’t heard the word love yet. Would you be marrying her if you hadn’t knocked her up like an idiot after only a few months of hooking up?”
I didn’t respond.
“That’s what I thought. People can have a kid and not be married. It’s not 1960 anymore, Mr. Cleaver.”
“We’ll make it work.”
Roman slapped me on the back. “Your life. But keys are in my pocket if you change your mind.”
“Thanks, man.”
Emerie
“Just because you’re physically thousands of miles away doesn’t mean your hearts are. You should each take time to let the other know you’re thinking of them. Let me ask you, Jeff, you mentioned that you thought of Kami today when you went for a run because you passed a lingerie store named Kami-souls. Had you mentioned that to Kami before our therapy session today? Perhaps when she brought up she feels as if you don’t give her any thought?”
The screen on my forty-two-inch monitor was split—a video feed of Jeff Scott on the left and a video feed of Kami Scott on the right. The two had been married less than a year when Jeff was transferred to the west coast. Considering he was their only income, with Kami in her second year of a dental residency, it left him little choice but to relocate until he was able to find a new job closer to their home in Connecticut.
“No. I hadn’t mentioned it to her before today,” Jeff said. “I’m busy. She knows I think about her.” His face froze on my screen for a few seconds, even though his voice kept going. He was mid speaking, and the stilled video had caught him in an odd frame. One eye was fully closed, and I could only see white on the other half-closed eye. His mouth was open, and his tongue looked stained with coffee. I needed to find better video software for my counseling sessions. God knows what I looked like on their screens at the moment.
Our forty-five-minute couples therapy session was almost up. “This week I’d like to do an exercise. At least once a day, when something reminds you of each other, let the other person know at that moment. If you’re out for a jog and see something, maybe snap a picture and text it. Kami, if a patient comes in with a cold and sneezes a lot, reminding you of Jeff’s propensity to sneeze six to eight times in a row, let him know. These little things can go a long way in reminding each other that your heart is never far, even if there are miles between you. Distance is only a test to see how far love travels.”
I heard what sounded like a snicker outside my partially closed door. So after my session ended, I was curious and went to find Drew. He stood in the copy room, which was next to the office I was using, making photocopies.
“Did you just say something to me?” I asked, giving him the benefit of the doubt.
“Nope. My father always taught me that if I had nothing nice to say to a woman, I should keep it to myself.”
I hadn’t been imagining it. “You were eavesdropping on my counseling session. You laughed at the advice I gave my clients, didn’t you?”
Drew’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. You had your door open, and you’re loud on the phone. You do know you don’t need to yell for the person on the other end of a video conference to hear you, right?”
“I wasn’t yelling.”
Drew finished making his copies, slipping a pile of papers from the feeder. “Whatever, but you might want to shut your door if you don’t want me overhearing your bad advice.”
My eyes grew to saucers. “Bad advice? What are you talking about? I’m a licensed psychologist who did her dissertation on overcoming barriers in relationships by opening the lines of communication in couples therapy.”
/> Drew snickered. Again. “You’re the expert then. I’ll leave you to it.” He walked back to his office.
He had no clue what he was talking about. My advice was solid, based on years of studying couples who wanted to work things out. I couldn’t help myself. I followed him, standing at his doorway.
“And what advice would you give a couple forced to endure a long-distance relationship?”
“I’d give them more realistic advice than ‘Distance is only a test to see how far love travels.’ That’s a load of shit. Where’d you read that one? A Hallmark card?”
My eyes bulged. “And what is your idea of realistic advice?”
“Simple. Hire a good divorce attorney. Long-distance relationships Do. Not. Work.”