•c h a p t e r 50•

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1 Year Later:

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1 Year Later:

"This is so stupid." He mumbles under his breath when our names are called.

I shoot him a look as I stand up and grab his arm, pulling him up as well which is no small feat; dude is huge. "You agreed to this Luca. Don't be difficult."

He groans loudly so everyone in the waiting room can heat exactly how he feels about being here. I have to practically drag him to the front desk because he's being such a man-child. "I'm pretty sure I would remember agreeing to couples therapy. Can't we just do things my way? I really don't want to be here."

"No. We tried your way." I whisper as we follow the receptionist down the hallway. "Your face is a perfect example why your way sucks."

His cheek is cut and eye bruised from doing things "his way" and would you believe not one of those is from me? I don't have one scratch on my body because I knew his way was stupid from the start. I mean, who scales a six story building without help and in the rain nonetheless ? A moron, that's who.

"Come on babe." He wines. "I'll let you shoot me again, anywhere you want."

"Anywhere?"

He pauses for a moment. "Okay may be not anywhere but still that is a much better option than this." His hands gesture to the entire building.

The receptionist stops at a glass door with the therapist names written professionally across it in white letters. "This is it, you can go right in."

I give her my best smile. When she turns to walk away, I give Luca my signature death glare letting him know I'm serious about this as we enter the room. He gives in and follows behind me hunched over defeated. The inside looks like what any other therapist office looks like. A desk in the corner, a long couch against the far wall, a single chair across from it and a coffee table in between. There's the door and one window with a fire escape outside which could be troublesome if he tries to run.

"Welcome, I am doctor Brian Holt. Please, have a seat." The middle aged man sporting an ugly sweater vest gestures to the couch with a smile.

We sit, well, I sit and Luca slouches. I'm tempted to pinch him but I keep my hands to myself. He's not taking my way seriously and that makes me angry.

"Where should we start?"

"I have Stockholm Syndrome." I blurt out giving me the desired effect, making Luca straighten up.

"Oh?" The doctor looks at Luca's questionable expression that borders humor and anger. "Tell me some more about that will you."

"For the record, I did not kidnap her and no matter what she says that will always be a fact. She came with me willingly, which by definition, is the opposite of kidnapping." He waves his hands around in the air trying to give a hurried explanation.

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