Cold Feet (Empathy in the PPNW Book 3) Read online

  “That’s why our marriage on the rocks, Muffin.”

  I rolled my eyes, moved to sit on the bed.

  “That’s not enough. He’s going to want instances of good times, bad times, maybe even stories from our wedding. I was blindsided by the questions earlier—I wouldn’t have been if you’d just agreed to discuss everything beforehand.”

  “So we’ll make some up.”

  “On the spot? Just like that?”

  “I’m that good.”

  “I’m not! Why don’t you want to deal with this?”

  “I’m really not that worried, Gwen. It’ll be fine. We’re not actually here to fix a marriage. We’re here to find out if Doctor Whoever T. Sleazebag is holding two couples—at least—against their wills. We just need to do some snooping, which is, in case you hadn’t noticed, what people pay me for. We’ll probably be done in a day or two.”

  “But in that day or two we’re going to be asked a lot of questions about our lives as a couple. I do this for a living, you don’t.”

  “No, I do this for a living. You’ve never privately investigated anything except a jar of jelly beans. We’ll push through our two sessions and just say we can’t agree on how to fold the laundry or something. It’ll be fine.”

  “I’m telling you, we’re going to be found out.”

  “Found out? You think they’re actively looking to find a pair of people paying them a fortune to pretend to be married? No one’s going to be suspicious of us.”

  He probably had a point. It wasn’t like we were going undercover in a foreign government trying to learn their launch codes. We were just a pair of people who were inclined to annoy the shit out of each other heading into an environment filled with couples who didn’t get along.

  “If in doubt,” he said after a few moments, “just call me names and pick a fight. You’re pretty good at being an ornery bitch.”

  I squinted at him over a snarl, but this time he had a point; there were very few things I was better at than insulting Mel.

  “Okay, fine.”

  “Excellent.” His gaze rolled to the side and it appeared for a second that he was listening to something. Finally, he looked back to me, giving me bedroom eyes that I did not appreciate, despite the fact that we were in fact in a bedroom. “Now, since you’re so concerned he’s going to be asking in depth questions, we should probably have sex in case he asks about that.”

  “I can just insult you, don’t worry.”

  “Like I said, no one who can see what I look like would believe any straight woman would be dissatisfied with—”

  “Get out,” I interrupted, pointing at the door. Rather than pressing the issue, Mel laughed, getting up to leave. Shortly after he shut the door, he pushed it open again.

  “I’m right in the next room in case you change your mind!”

  I threw a shoe at him, but it only hit the hastily shut door.

  Chapter Seven

  I woke to the smell of eggs and sizzling meat and my stomach demanded I haul my ass out of bed and attack the food like Lorelai so frequently attacked her brothers. It was only after I stepped back into the bedroom from the attached bathroom that I realized I wasn’t allowed to eat. I growled into the empty room but it sounded more pathetic than usual after being in a house full of wolves.

  So, I settled on mumbling a string of curse words as I dug through my bags for shower supplies.

  I felt marginally better after I’d cleaned and dressed myself and even better after I got out to the living area and surrounded myself with the feelings of glee and satiation floating around. I had never considered hanging out with people who were full as a way to diet before, but it occurred to me then.

  Too bad I couldn’t bottle my empathy and sell the sensations to overweight housewives who had as much interest in eating right and exercising as I did. As I sidled up to the kitchen bar, Julian handed me a glass of water and smiled.

  “Mel’s up and ready, I think. He said you couldn’t eat, so I tried to feed the kids before you were awake.”

  “It’s fine. I’m feeling okay, actually.” I said. Julian just nodded, sidestepped as Christian chased Walter through the open kitchen and back around the wall into the living room. Mel appeared shortly after, watching the kids with a goofy grin on his face. I wondered what his emotions would have said at that moment, but I probably could have guessed on my own.

  “Ready?” Mel asked, turning to face me. I shrugged a shoulder, took a giant gulp of water and slid off the barstool. We were in the car and on our way within minutes.

  “I am not looking forward to letting Creepy stab me with needles.”

  “It’ll probably be his assistant. I doubt he does the dirty work on his own.”

  “Maybe. Either way, I’m not digging the idea.”

  “I can sit in there, hold your hand, whisper words of encouragement in your ear.”

  “You’ll just whisper words about your dick.”

  “Huge,” Mel whispered. “Fantastic, beautiful.”

  “Disappointing, clumsy, pencil-thin,” I whispered back. Mel just laughed, keeping his eyes on the road.

  We’d barely even gotten in the door of the facility before Rhonda had me by the arm and was dragging me down the hallway we’d walked for our consultation. Mel stayed on my heels, making it look casual, and Rhonda glanced his way, a small smile hiding the spike of irritation I felt from her. She settled us into a room halfway down the hall, wrapping a blood pressure cuff over my arm. Before she started, Mel got her attention, handing her the pages we’d printed out the night before.

  “See? I’m healthy as a horse. If there’s any physical dysfunction in the relationship, it’s all my dear wife’s fault.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she’s fine.” Rhonda set the pages on the counter, putting her back to Mel as she squeezed my arm uncomfortably in the name of science.

  “She eats terribly. I don’t know how she stays so averagely sized,” Mel said. I leaned over to glare at him around Rhonda’s hip and he winked. After announcing that my blood pressure was on the high end of normal, she looked between us both before her gaze fell on Mel. She watched him for a moment and I felt that annoyance in her again, before it rapidly changed to a small bubble of surprise. A smile fixed itself across her lips.

  “Mr. Somerset, will you come with me? We can take care of the insurance paperwork and the payment, and we can unpack your luggage.”

  “Luggage?” I asked. Rhonda glanced at me, nodded.

  “Yes, we have your room all set.”

  “Oh, we’re not staying here,” Mel said. Shock shot through her psyche like cracks in an expensive vase and her eyes widened.

  “Excuse me? Aren’t you here for the retreat?”

  “We have a place nearby, with my family. We won’t need to trouble you.”

  “But it’s part of the program,” she said, her voice a touch high. “We monitor your sleep patterns, see how you interact with each other while unconscious. That’s what Doctor Coontz had you down for. I’m afraid it’s a whole different set of paperwork if you’re only here for counseling.”

  “That seems like overkill,” I said. Rhonda turned to me sharply and I felt it. Rubbing a hand over my cheek, where it stung like she’d slapped me, I tried to give her my least threatening smile. Mel took her hand in his, smiled down at her.

  “I spoke with, I believe it was, Doctor Howard before even making the consultation. She said that not all couples go quite as deep as that with the therapy, that it would be perfectly acceptable to stay outside the facility for the program.”

  She paused, displeased at his answer, but relaxing visibly. There was still a trace of annoyance there, but she calmed enough that I no longer worried she might truss us both up and shove us in a closet. I was getting the feeling Rhonda was a little Type A, especially when it came to her job.

  Giving a small nod, she glanced at the clock on the wall of the small examination room and reached for the door, still holding Mel’s ha
nd.

  “I’ve let the doctor know you’re here, so someone from his team will be right with you, Ms. Arthur. Mr. Somerset, please follow me.”

  Mel gave me a supportive grin as they left me alone in the small room. I dug my phone out of my pocket, but found I had no signal. I stared impotently at it for about a minute, before I realized I was starting to feel woozy. Swallowing, I lifted my head, looking to the ceiling as if maybe it would be steadier than the suddenly spinning wall ahead of me.

  I had no idea what was going on, but it wasn’t pleasant. No longer was I just sitting in a waiting room prepping to be tested for Vitamin X deficiency, I was suddenly recovering from getting drunk and strapping myself in upside down on a tilt-o-whirl. I hadn’t felt that dizzy in years, but I couldn’t control the feeling, no matter what I did.

  “Ohhh god,” I mumbled, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to steel myself against whatever the hell was making me list to the side. The door opened as my shoulder hit the wall and I turned to find an absolutely gorgeous, woman-shaped creature enter the room. I couldn’t have told you what gave it away that she wasn’t human, especially in the midst of my brainless, hangover-esque episode of nausea, but something in me could tell she looked human but that was about as far as it went.

  She looked about my height, with dark hair pulled back in an elaborate twist. Her body was airbrushed-in-a-nudey-magazine perfect, even under the plain white shirt, jeans and white physician’s jacket. I caught sight of her teeth as she smiled at me and I had the strange desire to ask her if she’d like to take a bite of me. When she spoke, her voice was low, flowing out of her full lips like a fine wine.

  “Ms. Arthur, I’ll be administering your blood tests today.” She moved through a hazy wiggle in my field of view to the cabinet, picked up the test results Rhonda had sat down. Making vague sounds of approval, she looked the page over, set it down. I watched her as she turned to look me over, smiled. My eyes went even blurrier and I wondered why she had so damn many eyeballs.

  Turning back to the cabinet, the woman pulled out some capped needles, clear, colorfully-topped tubes, and a strip of rubber. I just watched her, still feeling like I’d taken some really bad drugs, and trying to keep myself upright. Her emotions were pleasant, mild, but off. My empathy was so confused by the feeling of drowning in dizziness, I couldn’t tell what we were feeling yet, but it didn’t really matter. I tried as hard as I could to separate her emotions from mine as she took my arm, tied it off, and then crouched down. Ultimately I failed and was left wondering what it was she’d asked me that left her smiling pleasantly from inches away.

  “Okay,” I said, as she gently tipped my head up to look at the ceiling. I didn’t have it in me to fight whatever was happening, but it was just blood tests, so I probably didn’t have to think about it too hard. I needed to focus on not passing out from vertigo and the feeling of my flailing guts.

  Time passed and I stayed seated, sick out of my mind, unaware of needles or blood loss or anything other than the way the dots in the ceiling panels danced in front of me. When she took my chin in her hand again and tipped my face down to look at her, I felt a sloppy grin split my lips. Numbness was creeping along my body, taking over like it would when I’d had contact with Mel for too long without the necklace protecting me from his emotions. The relief of no longer feeling like any small movement might spill my innards all over the floor was incredible.

  “Are you feeling alright?” she asked. This time, I understood her enough to nod. My head didn’t want to come back up out of the down position, but chin to chest was a good position to notice at the wad of cotton taped to my elbow.

  “Don’t take that off for a few days, okay? We should have your test results before too long. Come now,” she said, sliding around to stand next to me. Five or six arms gripped me, pulling me to my feet and holding me steady as we moved toward the door. My whole body felt cradled in the wobbly gelatin of being so close to the inhuman nurse-type not-person.

  I glanced over into her lovely face, let her lead me along as I considered that she really only had one set of eyes. What had I been thinking before? Six or eight eyes? Get outta here, Gwen, you’re drunk.

  “Okay,” I said in response to nothing, as she pulled the door open for me and let me go. Surprisingly, I didn’t topple without the support as she nudged me out into the hallway.

  “Down the hall to the left, you’ll find Dr. Coontz. Run along.” I turned to catch sight of her again, found the door was shut in my face. I have no idea how long I stood staring at the cream-colored wood, but I felt warm hands on my shoulders before my body was turned around and I was staring into Mel’s frowning face.

  “What happened?”

  “What?” I asked. Mel shook me and the fuzzy stupor about me receded, leaving me feeling solid and aware. “What?” I asked again. Mel let go of my arms, shoved open the door to the exam room and peered inside. The beautiful woman and her confusing emotions were gone, but the fact that I’d been standing in front of the only way into the room didn’t occur to me.

  “What happened?”

  “Just blood tests. Wow. I think not eating really affected me. I feel dizzy and sick.”

  “Well. They promised to make sure to have juice and cookies in the room.”

  “Cookies?” I perked up, wiggling my jaw as the feeling in it came back in a rush of needles. Relief at not feeling sick stopped me from complaining, even when Mel grabbed me and practically dragged me down the hall.

  ##

  The second we were in the room I made a mad dash for the tray of cookies on the coffee table. I didn’t even notice that Dr. Coontz was standing along the back wall, fiddling with a gadget that shortly after started emitting a low, comforting style of music usually reserved for massages and acupuncture. My hands full of plain shortbread, I turned to face him, stuffing one into my mouth whole and chewing with my mouth open. Dr. Coontz smiled at me, barely sparing a glance for Mel.

  “Good morning, Gordon,” Mel said from the door, his tone a bit more forceful than was necessary. Gordon took half a second to watch me shove another cookie in my mouth, before turning to give Mel a small smile

  “Mr. Somerset, hello. Are we ready to begin?”

  “I was wondering if we could get a tour of the facilities at all, before we do.”

  “Oh, yes of course.” Turning to me, he gave me a small smile. “Are you ready now, Gwen?”

  “Sure,” I said through a mouthful of cookie. He blinked at me and I felt a thin stab of irritation, but he didn’t let it show on his face. I moved to Mel before the doctor could try to come lead me by hand and we moved into the hallway. Gordon stepped out, shut the door, and gestured to show us that we’d be walking back toward the reception area.

  He babbled on as we walked, describing the rooms to either side of us; they were a mix of exam rooms like the one I’d been in and counseling rooms like the one in which we’d met with the doctor. Out in the reception area, he showed us to the small kitchen, explained that it was primarily for reception use: coffees, teas, and refreshments. He promised us that the center had state of the art kitchen facilities in one of the other buildings and that it would be where all the meals would be prepared.

  The hallway at the other end of the reception area led to another hallway with exam rooms and sitting rooms, and at the end of that hall was a wide door that led out onto a back deck overlooking a beautiful garden. Mel hung back at one of the doors in the hallway, pretending to be fiddling with his sock, but the way he leaned toward the door made me think he’d noticed something.

  When we got outside, Coontz explained that many of the group therapy sessions took place out in the garden area. There were two other large buildings past the long gardens and low-hedges.

  “These are some of our private quarters, where those couples who choose the full experience we offer stay with us,” Dr. Coontz said, turning to face us. The smile on his rough face was tight, and he swallowed thickly before giving a nod and
gesturing back to the building.

  “We do also have sleeping quarters upstairs, where we ask couples to stay for one night each week so that we can monitor sleep patterns and sleep activities. I wish you would allow us at least one night to make sure you are making effective use of your nocturnal time together.” I caught Mel’s gaze in my peripheral vision but I didn’t look over at him; I knew he was giving me some sort of eyebrow wag and possibly a lewd gesture with his tongue and I didn’t want to encourage him.

  ##

  I ate cookies and juice and let Mel do most of the talking during the first session of the day. The doctor asked more questions, many of them questions I’d asked my own patients from time to time. His emotions stayed bland for the most part, but his eyes lingered on the cotton on my elbow. It was preferable to him staring at my boobs or even my face, though, so I didn’t make a stink about it. After an hour of Mel showing off his surprisingly convincing improv skills, the doctor checked his watch.

  “Looks like it’s time for the group trust building exercise.” He stood, looked between us, and brushed a hand over the side of his wiry hair. This did nothing to tame it. “I understand you’re refusing to stay here with us at night, but I wish you would reconsider. It really is helpful to the process.”

  “Group trust-building, you said?” Mel asked, a pleasant smile on his face. Gordon looked him over and I felt irritation bubble up. After a moment, he nodded.

  “Yes, I’ll show you out, if you’re ready to go?” I nodded, but grabbed for the last cookie on the tray. I’d drained the lemonade jug twice, but the doctor had been quick on the draw to get it refilled any time it dipped below half-full. The cookies, however, hadn’t been addressed, forcing me to do my best to make them last.

  Mel watched me with a certain amount of affection on his face as I crammed the crumbly shortbread into my mouth, before getting to his feet and holding out a hand to pull me to my feet. Cookies clutched in my right hand, I gave him my left, let him tug me up. Trust-building exercises sounded interesting and definitely better than sitting in the tiny room listening to Mel drone on about how our sex life had been at the beginning of our marriage compared to now.