The Marriage Counselor

Samantha

The marriage counseling wasn't even her idea, yet she's the one who actually decided to show up. 45 minutes early to be exact. The girl can't help it, she's a ball of anxiety. She just couldn't stand another second of pacing around the house, chewing her thumb nail, glancing at the time every five minutes. It's a new place, she reasoned, so of course she wanted to give herself ample time to find it. Fortunately- or unfortunately, she hasn't decided yet- the counselor's office is a lot closer to the house than she expected.

She's been sitting in the car inside the parking lot of the place, biting on whatever is left of her nails as she surveys the building. It's big, despite only having one counselor, made up of mostly glass windows. In the weeks leading up to their appointment, she searched the internet for this guy and his work. Dr. Henry Good. Plenty of positive reviews and recommendations, interviews, features, awards, Henry Good has certainly made a name for himself in the psychology world. Yet there doesn't seem to be a single picture of this man. In 2018, the age of technology and social media, this is the one counselor in the entire world without a face. It's been eating at her what he looks like. Ever since she found out the appointment date, she's been conversing with this imaginary counselor in her head. She's thought all about what he might ask, what she wants to say, and more, what Cody might say.

"I've been talking to my dad and brother about this. Did you know mom and dad did marriage counseling? I had no idea. They think it might really help us. They even recommended a guy..."

It was one of the first things Cody had said to her after his trip to Italy for three weeks. She asked how the flight was and he threw that at her. Of course he told his family. Just another thing to hang over her head.

4:45 pm, the dashboard of the matte black Mercedes reads. She sighs and takes another look around the empty parking lot. Cody has a habit of being late for everything. If nepotism wasn't a thing, she'd question how her husband managed to be such a successful business man. She used to find it enduring. A cute little quirk of his. Oh, he just lives in the moment, he hates watches, he's a talker... He couldn't even make it on time to the wedding. At the time, she took comfort in the fact that they were so opposite in punctuality. It meant they needed each other. They balanced each other out. He was the yin to her yang. That was 7 years ago and now she doesn't know what to think.

She tries calling his cell phone. It doesn't even ring. Instead it goes straight to the voicemail she's heard too many times. "Hello. This is the voicemail of Cody Chambers. I'm sorry to have missed your call. If you need to schedule a meeting, please contact Stephanie at...."

"It's me," She says, trying to keep her tone light. She hates being the nagging wife. "I'm just calling to check where you are. I'm here at the.... counseling... office. I made sure Stephanie had all the appointment information just in case you forgot. I'll text you the address just in case. Anyways, I hope I'll see you soon.... Love you..."

4:50 pm. She hangs up the call and shoves the phone in her purse. She could just leave. She doesn't have to do this. It's marriage counseling. It takes two people to do this. They can just pay whatever the cancellation fee is. And if Cody even thinks about lecturing her about this, she won't bite her tongue this time.

Maybe it's a test. She wouldn't put it past her husband. He wants her to exceed his expectations without ever communicating them. Somehow she managed to make it this far. She also can't find it in herself to start driving. The thought of abandoning the session on such short notice makes her stomach twist with guilt. Good girls respect people's time, her mother always said.

"Fuck you, mom," She mutters before reaching into the glove compartment for the thing that'll get her through the next hour of this session. She quickly retrieves the flask and shakes it to test its contents. It's definitely something you'd see an alcoholic do, keeping a secret stash of vodka in the car. She doesn't care how it looks. This stash has saved her plenty of times. She never drinks and drives. Instead, she'll take a big gulp to calm her anxiety before a party, an engagement, a dinner, dealing with her in laws. She only drinks enough to get a nice buzz going so whatever happens or whatever passive aggressive comment is said just bounces off her like rubber.

Thank god for the tinted windows. She swallows the remainder of the flask, making a mental note to refill it when she gets home. It burns and it tastes disgusting. It's not about the taste. She just doesn't want to be completely sober while some stranger picks and prods at the state of her marriage.

•••

"If you'll have a seat, Dr. Good will be with you shortly." The receptionist smiles. Receptionist doesn't seem to fit the woman who greeted Samantha at the front desk. More like a super model, with blonde hair and a tiny waist. Her black dress sticks to her like a second skin. This is the only time Samantha feels relieved her husband is not here. He would definitely like this... Monica... as the name plate reads.

"Thanks." Samantha tries to say in the most normal way possible. The vodka is making her feel all tingly and warm inside. She probably drank too much. She only realizes this when she tries to sit down on what should be a chair in this lobby and slips a little. She tries to arrange herself comfortably on the abstract blue chair but struggles, then deciding to remain standing. "Actually, do you have a restroom I may be able to use really quick?"

"Certainly. Down this way and it's the first door to your right."

Samantha makes her way in that direction, pushing open the big door to the ladies room. She makes her way to the granite sink and takes this chance to splash some cold water on her face. This guy's a psychologist. He'll probably be able to tell she's been drinking. Maybe if she tells him enough about her marriage, he'll give her a pass. Maybe he'll even tell her she's handling herself better than most would. Maybe he'll say she's not the problem at all, it's her husband that's the problem...

She takes this chance to inspect herself in the mirror. She's not ugly but she's certainly no Monica from the front desk. While she is blonde, it's not natural. It wasn't until a few years ago that she took to dying her brunette waves to this color. Cody always favored blondes, she knew this when she married him. It started as an impulsive decision. A change was needed and for most women, hair can be experimented with. She didn't think she'd turn into one of those women dying their hair every month. It will grow out and I'll go back to brown, she told herself. But Cody's reaction to the blonde color was something she hadn't seen for a long time. She liked it. She felt pretty and wanted. Now, the brown roots are growing back in and she hasn't scheduled a new appointment with the stylist. She stares back at the brown eyed girl in the mirror, making final adjustments to her skirt and tucked in blouse.

When she steps out of the restroom, Monica is standing there with a smile painted on her lips. "Dr. Good will see you now." She insists, guiding the client to one of the doors in the building. There's a gold plate on the door reading: Dr. Henry Good, MD. The receptionist taps lightly on the door.

"Enter." A deep male voice says from inside.

Monica opens the door to an office that would seem too big for a counselor's office if it wasn't the East side of New York. A teal wall full of books of all sorts. There was an uncomfortable looking grey couch against another white wall. A tan leather arm chair directed towards the couch. A big desk with notebook paper everywhere. Degrees and awards painted one part of the walls. The wall opposite of the door is made up entirely of glass- much like the rest of the building. The counselor has a nice view of the city from here.

And standing there, with his back turned to the women as he looked out the window, was Dr. Henry Good. MD. The first thing Samantha noticed about him was his height. She guesses he's somewhere around the 6'0 mark. He's wearing a white dress shirt, ironed to perfection, and a pair of black trousers with suspenders. She can't remember the last time she saw suspenders on someone. And she certainly can't remember someone ever pulling them off the way this man does. His shoulders are broad. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to give a glimpse of his muscular arms. She can see the golden hair and veins there. She also can't help but notice he's got an ass that would make David Beckham cry. She finds herself desperate to see his face now.

"Henry, your 5 o'clock," Monica introduces before stepping out of the room and closing the door behind Samantha.

He turns around to face her finally and dear God, he's even better looking from the front. He's removed his tie for the day and the top buttons of his shirt are undone, teasing a glimpse of his chest. He's got a head of thick blonde waves, which fall onto his forehead. Despite having a bit of golden scruff on his cheeks and chin, she can see he's got a nice jaw. A man's jaw. He's got a pair of glasses on that sit at the bridge of his nose and behind them, two dark blue eyes survey her up and down.

"Oh. There you are." He says simply. A smile tugs at the corners of his pink lips.

There's no way she's going to be able to sit in front of this guy for an hour and open up about the failings of her marriage. That's what she's here for, right? Her mind is blank and buzzing all at once. It's probably just the alcohol. She suddenly feels self conscious; smoothing her hair and adjusting her skirt.

"Hi, I'm-" She starts to approach his desk with her hand extended towards him.

"Samantha Hale. Well, technically Chambers now," He finishes, inching across his desk to shake her hand. His hand is twice the size of hers but it's warm and gentle when he shakes it. "It's nice to see you again, Samantha."

Again? She blinks. No, she hasn't met this man before. There must be some mistake. She would remember him. "I'm sorry, have we met before?"

He releases her hand and nods, reaching for a clip board from his desk and a pen. "You probably wouldn't remember. I was at the wedding. I know your father in law. Worked with him a few times. You know, stock, stock, stock. That's all the man talks about."

The mention of the wedding has her scanning her memory of that day, seven years ago. It feels like another life time. She remembers the villa, the exchange of I Do's, the champagne. There must have been thousands of guests though and most of them weren't hers. She remembers shaking hands through out the night but all their names escaped her. She smiles and nods, hoping he doesn't catch the fact that she can't place him. "Of course! It's nice to see you again, Dr. Good."

"Please, just call me Henry." He walks around his desk, clipboard in hand, and checks the big silver watch on his wrist. "Also, please, make yourself comfortable. Did you find the office alright?"

Samantha decides to take a seat on the end of the couch, happy with her choice as soon as she sees him take the arm chair directly across from her. It's close enough that she catches a whiff of his Burberry scent, aftershave, and there's something else there... mint perhaps. She adjusts her skirt before relaxing into the cushions more. The couch is comfier than it looks. "Yes. It's actually close to where we live."

"Wonderful," He says as he begins writing some things down. "So, to state the obvious, it doesn't appear your significant other has joined us today. Should we be expecting him shortly?"

She bites her bottom lip and looks at the section of the couch next to her. She starts to feel her nose prickle, which she feels is a bit ridiculous. Not even 10 minutes have passed and she's already about to cry in this man's presence. But what does it say about her marriage that her husband can't even show up for their first counseling session? It was his idea but she has to ask herself if he even wants to save this marriage. Maybe they're just doomed. Maybe this whole thing is a waste of time. Don't cry. Don't cry. Not yet at least.

"Are you alright, Samantha?" Henry's voice is low but warm. Concern is etched on his forehead as he looks at her, the pen placed on top of the clipboard.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she waves her hand and takes a deep breath, adjusting her skirt again out of nervousness. "I'm not sure where Cody is, sir. I'm sorry. I know it must be counter productive to do couple's counseling without a couple. If you want, we can reschedule."

He shakes his head. "Don't be silly. You're here now and it gives me a chance to get to know you, which is important for any type of counseling. I appreciate you coming today and even arriving 45 minutes early at that."

Oh god, he saw her. What did he see exactly? She tries to remember everything she did in the car while she waited. She swallows. "Yeah, I... Well, if I'm not at least 15 minutes early to a place, I consider it late. I don't know why. Anxiety, probably. I've been that way ever since I was a kid." Stop rambling. Just shut up, Samantha.

"I couldn't agree more, Samantha," He smiles again. "And the fact that Cody isn't here today leads me to believe he's finally joined the family business, am I correct in that assumption?"

She nods.

"Well, then I guess that answers all the questions I would've asked you over this next hour. No wonder you're here. Your husband's a stock broker. You poor thing. Why didn't you simply start with that?"

She doesn't realize until seconds later that he's trying to lighten the mood, distract her, make a joke out of all this. She laughs a little. Something tugs at the back of her head. A worry. She frowns and thinks carefully over her next few words. "Forgive me, Sir. But, I'm... I'm a somewhat paranoid person. You're going to think it's silly but, you mentioned knowing my father in law and working with him," she struggles to get to the point. She doesn't want to offend this man. "Maybe I should tell you that this whole thing wasn't even my idea. And my husband is the last person in the world that I thought would agree to something like this. So with him not being here and you being close to the family... I just need to know. This isn't a set up, right? I'm not going to sit here and confess everything to you only to have it bite me in the ass later. I know that may sound ridiculous but it's where my head is going right now."

There is a split second that he seems taken back by such a question. The surprise dissipates quickly and is replaced by a seriousness as he looks towards the window, carefully thinking over his next sentence. He finally looks back at her, pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose. "No, Samantha. I can promise you, this is not a set up." His voice is warm and gentle. "Something like that would be completely unethical and against everything I believe in as a psychologist. I take my job very seriously. And- should we continue this further- it's important that you always feel safe here. I'd be more than happy to go over the confidentiality laws with you, if you'd like."

She searches his face as he says all this, taking great comfort in the tone of voice he's using. For someone so tall and broad, so muscular and twice her size, he treats her with a delicacy that she didn't know she needed. Like a small, wounded bird. She finds herself scooting to the edge of the cushion and she thinks several times about leaping forward just to hug him. God, she's so deprived. So touch starved. This man is saying everything she needs to hear and it hasn't even been 20 minutes. This was a good idea. A very good idea.

"Would you like me to go into the confidentiality laws with you?" He asks.

His question snaps her back to reality. She hasn't answered his question. Instead, she's just been staring at him like a small child with her big brown eyes. She shakes her head quickly. "No, no. That won't be necessary. I'm pretty sure it's something like you can only tell law enforcement if I threaten to kill someone or myself, right?"

He laughs for the first time. It's deep, musical. She can tell it's a genuine laugh the way his abs shake under his button up. "Yes, Samantha, something like that."

She smiles. "You can call me Sam if you want. Or Sammy. Samantha's fine too but I don't know, I guess the extra syllables can be a bit much. Whatever you want."

"I like your name. It fits you perfectly, I think," He tilts his head. "Samantha." He says it like his mouth is thoroughly testing out the sound of it, how it leaves his lips, how it requires his tongue to move...

"Okay."

"If it helps, you know, the whole therapist-client confidentiality thing," he takes a deep breath. A smirk starts on his face again. "I think your father in law is an ass."

This makes her start to giggle and soon the two of them are laughing together. It's like they're in a secret club together. The thought of that excites her in ways she can't even begin to understand. Hopefully that's something Henry will be able to help her with.

Note from author: this chapter is the shortest. This is my first WattPad story and I wanted to get comfortable with this. Fingers crossed I get even one reader. Please vote and let me know if you guys want more to read :) I'll continue uploading chapters. Romance and smut on the way.