Amelia had everything- family, friends, a promising future- the sky was the limit. But just like that everything was taken from her. One moment she's planning her high school graduation party the next she's laying on a therapist's couch. It was as i...
I watched his amused look fade into a serious undertone of concern. It's like he knew what I was talking about from the very beginning. Only now that I've said it, he's realizing it must be true.
Everything I had just mentioned was clearly theoretical and down right presumptuous. I mean for all I knew, this woman wasn't even married, the ring she wears on her left hand wasn't a wedding band. But from the look on his face, something was telling me that I may have just hit the nail right on the head.
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He swallowed hard and adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt. He hadn't responded to any of what I said. Which led me to wonder if he knew about Veronica's bizarre sharade. For the first time since we've met, he was avoiding my gaze. Why?
"Oh shit! I knew I crossed a line just now," I thought.
My palms started to sweat. Unconsciously, I bit down on my bottom between my teeth. Breaking through the dead silence that plagued the room, I heard a muffled noise from Dr. Broderick. The sound came from deep in his throat. Not quite a cough, yet not entirely a moan. The noise captured my attention where I found his eyes back on me, this time centered on my mouth.
My throat and mouth went dry instantly. "Please tell me when I've crossed a line."
He shot me a perplexed look. "What do you mean?"
My brows creased. "I mean that my job comes before anything else when I'm here. All because I am your replacement secretary doesn't mean that I have the right to speak about your patients."
"Ms. Peterson, I wish you would stop referring to yourself as a replacement. It sounds so non-permanent," he said after clearing his throat. That's because it was.
I offered him half of a smile. "I wish you would stop referring to me as Ms. Peterson," I countered.
Few people knew that being called by my last name left a painful twinge in my chest. It was as though someone kept rubbing salt into an open wound that refused to close. A cruel reminder of who I was, where I once came from. The ugly truth that came along with every syllable.
The last of the Peterson family. How tragic.
His perfect smile returned. "What am I to call you then?"
I didn't care that it was unethical for my boss to call me by my first name. But it certainly felt better for my nerves than if he were to keep calling me Ms. Peterson. How alone it made me feel.
"Call me Amelia."
"Amelia." The name rolled right off his tongue, it sent chills up my arms and down my back. I pressed my thighs closer together to feel the ache at my core.
"Alright, Amelia it is then," he affirmed. Oh boy, Maybe I shouldn't have made this request. The sound of my name alone was enough to make me come undone. I could myself growing wet between my legs.
