Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“Good point.” I huffed, lungs burning from the long-held breath. “I guess maybe I’m building it up bigger in my brain than it needs to be.”
“And that’s exactly the sort of thing the group can help with.” Sam smiled. Too smug, damn him. “Find out what others do for anxiety. Try different things for yourself. Offer suggestions. There’s value in helping others in similar situations. Looked like you did great with Marta yesterday.”
“I tried.” I would have said helping the teens was more Sam’s expertise, but he looked so proud that I’d made the effort. And honestly, I’d enjoyed the exchange far more than I would have predicted. “She didn’t exactly give a ringing endorsement of the group treatment program, but I suppose if she made it through, I can do it too.”
“You need to do this for you.” Sam was far more tenacious than Buttercup, who was still snoozing at the foot of the bed. He could take a clue or two, but instead, he pressed on. “Not to make me happy or to prove something. But for you. Because it might help, and you deserve to feel better.”
“I’m still working on believing that.” Scooting closer, I dropped my head onto his shoulder. “Sometimes I feel like my whole life has been a disappointment.”
“Never. That’s more of that disordered thinking you can work on in therapy. Remember, depression lies. Because from where I sit, you’re pretty amazing.” Putting an arm around me, he held me close. “And both your parents bragged on you all the time. The only person you’ve let down is you, and maybe you need to go easier on yourself.”
“Lower my standards?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Embrace your humanity.” He kissed my temple.
“I know one thing I want to embrace…” I snuggled more purposefully into his side, nuzzling his neck.
“Worth. Sex isn’t always the answer.”
I grinned because the way he was tenting the sheet said he was far from immune to my charms. “If I agree to go to the group—for me—and to work on my beliefs and self-talk and all that, will you let me blow you before work?”
“After.” Groaning, he slid away, exiting the bed as his alarm sounded again. “After your meeting.”
“Cruel.”
“Practical.” He silenced the alarm before stretching. He was right that we needed to head to the coffee shop, but I still wanted the distraction of sex. Damn the need to be responsible adults. Sam, though, seemed to have no such regrets. “Also, delayed gratification might do you some good.”
“I’m going to be counting the minutes.”
“Me too.” Grinning, he reached over and ruffled my hair. I managed to snag a fleeting kiss before he headed to the bathroom. I’d go to the group. Maybe not for me like Sam wanted, but for him because he deserved the best version of me. I’d never felt as connected and whole as I had the night before. Sam was right that sex wasn’t a solution and I couldn’t look to him to complete me. Made sense, but my brain still said he might be the answer to every question I’d had.
Chapter Nineteen
Sam
“We should be busier.” George had been grumpy through the quiet morning rush and the light lunch crowd. On any other Monday, a quiet shop would be a blessing.
“We should?” Tossing my shoulders back, I added a hearty laugh. I needed to show George I wasn’t at all worried about our lack of customers. I told Worth the same thing yesterday and again today before he left for his depression group meeting. I didn’t control the customers. Hence, I didn’t need to worry about the effect the Green Label opening might have on my business.
Lies.
All lies.
In reality, I was plenty worried, but showing it would serve no purpose. I had so many people counting on me—Worth, my teen workers, my parents, others who worked with and relied on the nonprofit, and the townspeople who had supported us for years. And I hated that I had no way of assuring any of them that we could survive the competition. Worth was right in that we were already barely scraping by.
Yeah, I was anxious. But I forced myself to smile that much wider, even as George continued frowning.
“Look at the line at Green Label.” He pointed out Blessed Bean’s large front window, down the street to where a line poured out of the new Green Label location, wrapping around the side of the building. Cars were blocking traffic, waiting to pull in through the drive-thru. Clean-cut, spiffy employees passed out little sample cups with the Green Label logo to the people waiting. “That’s genius. Instead of letting people get pissed at the slow-moving line, they’re using it to push product. And more people keep coming.”
Genius. I filed the sample idea away for running by Worth when he returned. My resident money expert would probably welcome the distraction after his meeting, and maybe there was something we could use in what they were doing over at Green Label.