Sex Addict (23 page)

Even though she’d fully intended on going out that night, it was their busy season, and missing two days of work had put her further behind than she had anticipated.
 

It wasn’t helping that she couldn’t focus.

Instead, she was turned away from her desk, facing the large glass window that overlooked the city. In the distance, she could make out the Brooklyn Bridge, with the lights shining off it that only days ago seemed to dance across the sky, but now glared at her in mocking winks.
 

She sat there, drumming her nails against the arm of her chair and lost in thought for what could’ve been minutes or hours. It wasn’t until a knock on her door jolted her out of her thoughts that she looked at the time. It was well after everyone should’ve left the building, and she had been under the impression she was there alone.
 

The knock sounded again, and then the door opened and Evan peered around the corner, surprised when he saw her sitting there.
 

“I thought you’d snuck out hours ago,” he said as he walked inside, his jacket slung over the crook of his arm and briefcase in hand.
 

She cocked her head to the side, studying his face. Why did he have to have such a handsome face? He was by leaps and bounds the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen…and he was damaged beyond repair.
 

What would’ve happened if his parents hadn’t gone away? If he’d had a normal childhood, if he’d had good influences in his life, if he’d been surrounded by people who loved and cared for him and had his best intentions at heart? Would he be the same man standing before her, or would he be a stronger one?
 

All irrelevant questions to be thinking at that moment, but she wondered them just the same.
 

Sighing, she shook her head. “
I
have no reason to sneak anywhere.”

“Well, you’ve been avoiding my good looks and witty repartee all day, so I assumed maybe you weren’t feeling well and had to rush home.”
 

“Do I look that fucking bad?” she snapped. As Evan’s eyebrows shot up, she continued, “You keep saying I’m not feeling well. Stop saying that.”

His hands went up in a defensive gesture. “Well, you mentioned you were sick, and you wouldn’t answer your pho—”

“I wasn’t fucking sick!” she shouted, rising to her feet so fast her chair tipped behind her. “Unless you consider being nauseated for days over what I saw this weekend sick, and then yes, I was sick. Happy?”

The look on Evan’s face was one of bewilderment, and he opened and shut his mouth several times before saying, “I’m a little confused, so forgive me while I try to keep up with you.” He dropped his jacket and briefcase in one of the chairs in front of her desk and ran his hand through his hair. “We went out Friday, and I had the best fucking dessert of my life. Since I haven’t seen or heard from you until you decided to resurface today, I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about. Care to clue me in, Reagan?”

She could feel her blood begin to boil as her heart pounded in her chest. She wanted to leap across the desk and slap his lying face, and at the same time, she hated herself for that impulse.

“Tell me, Evan, since we didn’t get a chance to go over your therapy session this morning, did you and Dr. Glover have an extended visit this weekend? I’m sure after
both
of your late-night escapades you had several things you needed to get off your chest.”

As the words flew out of her mouth she saw his eyes narrow on her, as if he were trying to decide exactly what she was referring to.
 

Yeah, God forbid you accidently admit you fucked a whore to the woman you wined and dined the night before.

He placed his hands on the back of the chair in front of him and leaned in before saying, in a tone that indicated quite clearly that he was becoming extremely aggravated, “I’m going to ask you again, since you seem to be skirting around whatever it is you
really
want to say. What the fuck are you talking about, Reagan?”

Any self-control she’d been hanging on to finally snapped in that moment as she decided to just lay it all out for him. What did she care if she came off unhinged to him? He was the one who—

“I saw you!” she spat out before she lost her nerve.
 

Evan cocked his head to the side and, in an infuriatingly calm voice, asked, “You saw me where?”

He’s going to make me say it? Well, fuck him if he thinks I won’t.

“Does a five-sevenish brunette in a red dress on the corner of Smith Street ring a bell, Evan?”

His hands flexed on the chair he was gripping before he quietly stated, “You followed me.”

“Does it matter? I saw you, not twelve hours after leaving my bed, trying to solicit a fucking hooker.”

“So let me get this straight: you’ve been stewing over this ‘secret’ of mine for the past three days, and today you’ve barely said two words to me because of it?” He straightened and released the chair to rub a hand over his face. “Wow. That’s some fucking nerve.”

“
I
have nerve? Are you serious?” She couldn’t believe he wasn’t even trying to deny it.

“Not only have you not bothered to ask me if it’s true and just assumed the worst, but maybe we should also acknowledge that I’m not the only one in here keeping fucking secrets.”

Every argument she had in her head vanished in that instant.
What the hell is he talking about?
 

“The brown hair is a nice touch, though not as curly as I remember. I have to say, I had my suspicions,
Jen
, but when you came in this morning everything just fell into place.”

Reagan opened her mouth, about to hotly deny what he was saying, but when he started to walk around the chair toward her, she decided moving the hell away was a better idea.

“Yeah…I had my doubts. I kept thinking, why would little Jenny Spencer go to such lengths to conceal the truth from an old friend?”

As Reagan’s mind swirled around the new information being thrown her way, she didn’t realize she’d reached the wall until her ass ran into it—and still, Evan kept coming for her.

“But then I started to remember…we were young back then, and there are a lot of details and facts that were over my head, but one thing I will never forget is that the year my parents ruined my life, they also destroyed my best friend’s family. The ones who’d taken me in and cared for me more than my own. How is Troy, by the way?”

Oh God. Oh shit, shit…shit.

“What?” he prompted. “Nothing to say now? Tell me, Reagan.” He stopped in front of her, and when she wouldn’t meet his eyes, he tilted her chin up roughly. “Were you ever going to tell me? Or was this some kind of sick retaliation a long time in the making?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.
 

“No, what? No, you were never planning on telling me, or no, you would never even consider the possibility of ruining my life for what my parents did to yours?”

“How could you even think that? We loved you—”

“Then why the ruse?”

“It’s complicated,” she started, and looked away.

“No, it’s not,” he said, pulling her chin back to face him. “At least look at me when you lie to me.”

She could feel the prick of tears behind her eyes, but she fought them back. “It’s not my story to tell.”

“And Bill? Where does he fit in with all this? That’s the one piece I can’t figure out.”

Her mouth clamped shut as his eyes bored into hers and he waited for a reply. He wouldn’t get one.
 

“Ah. More secrets.” He let go of her chin and backed away. The vulnerable expression from the photo she’d kept crossed his face then. His voice was quiet when he asked, “Was any of this real?”

Trying to speak past the lump in her throat, she managed to respond, “I thought it was.”

“And because of something you think you saw, you’ve changed your mind?”

“I know what I saw.”

His jaw ticked and then he gave a curt nod. Turning around, he picked up his jacket and briefcase and walked to the door, stopping when he reached it. “You know, Reagan,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “Even after I realized who you were, and even with all the possibilities of why you’ve lied to me…I still gave you the benefit of the doubt. I wish you could’ve had the same respect for me.”

And then he was gone.
 

Reagan’s hand flew up to her mouth as she tried to muffle her cries, and she felt her knees begin to give out. Sinking to the floor, she gave in to the overwhelming ache and let her head drop to her hands. As she took a shuddering breath, she heard footsteps stop a few feet away from her.
 

“Reagan?”
 

As the sound of Bill’s voice, not Evan’s, hit her ears, her heart stopped and she looked up to face the man she’d never wanted to let down. The man looking at her now with sad, disappointed eyes.
 

“Oh, Reagan. What have you done?”

“The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places.”

-Ernest Hemingway

CHAPTER TWENTY

“SO LET ME get this straight.” Dr. Glover lifted the end of his pen to his lips as his eyes narrowed on Evan over the top of his glasses. “The woman we’ve been discussing over the past few weeks finally shows you that she wants more, and you left her in an emotional heap in her office. Did I get that right?”

Evan stretched his long legs out in front of him.
She thinks I fucked a prostitute the day after I left her apartment, so, yeah, that’s about right.
Sighing, he leaned back into the worn leather couch. “You left out the part about her being a liar. And not someone I met in the last few weeks. She had an agenda.”

“So did you.”

“And what the hell was that?”

“You wanted to fuck her.”

“Jesus, you get right to the point, don’t you?”
 

“Well, that’s what you do. Isn’t it?”

I thought it was until I became obsessed with a leggy fucking blonde.
Evan glared at the man whose eyes he swore fucking twinkled. “Even if it is, what therapist talks like you do? I’m positive they don’t teach you that in Patient-Client Relations 101.”

“I’ve always been a firm believer in no bullshit. I told you that the day you walked in and tried to lie to
me
. We aren’t going to make any progress if you don’t trust me and I don’t trust you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re just—”

“Yes, Evan?”

Evan waved him off. “Nothing. I guess I’m still trying to process the fact that Reagan is that little girl from so long ago. A whole fucking life ago. It’s… I don’t know,” he said, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “It’s disconcerting. She knew me before.”

“And that bothers you.”

“Fuck yes, it bothers me. I was ten years old the last time I saw her. Innocent. And now I’m…this.”

“You’re awfully hard on yourself. I wonder if you’re upset over what you’re saying or over Reagan thinking bad of you.”

And there it was. The truth he didn’t want to admit. Reagan accusing him of being with anyone hours after he’d been with her had infuriated him. Which was ridiculous, because he knew what he was. The demons he’d been trying to fight.
Why would she assume anything but the worst?
But with that anger came embarrassment and shame. He hated that she’d seen him on that corner. Hated that she’d seen him with Layla. But how the fuck could he ever convince her otherwise? And why would he even want to?
 

“She’s a liar,” he said.

“And you’re a sex addict. Fantastic pairing.”

“You’re not helping. What am I paying you for?”

“To listen. To talk you through your feelings and help you understand them.”

“It could never work with Reagan,” Evan said. His eyes were on the ceiling, trailing the long, jagged crack that ran from one end to the other. As many times as he’d been there, in the impeccable home and office of Dr. Glover, he’d never noticed another flaw. That crack drove him crazy, to the point that he wanted to grab a caulk gun and a ladder and fix the damn thing.
 

“You know why I leave that there, don’t you?” Dr. Glover asked. When Evan’s eyes met his, he continued, “It’s metaphorical. You see a nice house, a nice facade. Everything seems perfect and in place. But if you look closer, you’ll find that everything has a flaw, Evan. Every person, every relationship, every job. So perhaps it’s not the flaws we should be focusing on, but the beauty of it all. In Reagan’s case, and I can only assume, of course, but I don’t think she was looking at your flaws when she accepted a dinner invitation from you. I believe she was remembering the boy she knew all those years ago. Which brings me to my next question. You said it could never work with Reagan. What can’t work with her? Work? Sex? A friendship? Or a relationship? Because until you know that, all you are going to see when you look at a crack in the ceiling is a crack in the ceiling.”

Evan stared at his therapist, speechless. He couldn’t remember the doctor ever having said so much in one sitting, let alone in the two or so minutes it had taken him to lay that all out on the table.