When the rest of the team eventually surfaces, the caterers are laying out a breakfast spread fit for a seven-star hotel, which is likely where it came from. The spread screams luxury, and a small part of me wonders: Is this how JP starts his day, or does he only break out the silver platter when he has an audience?
Meanwhile, my neon sign has been upgraded to JUST FUCKED THE BOSS.
“God, I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck,” Matty groans, kneading his neck. His eyes narrow at me. “Lucy, did you use my neck as a pillow last night or what?”
I roll my eyes. “Actually, I was nice enough to put your drooling face back on the bed. So, you’re welcome.”
His eyes narrow further. “I didn’t hear you come in last night.”
With a saintly smile plastered on my face, I retort, “I stayed up reading downstairs for a bit. You were in dreamland, snoring your head off when I came up.”
He gives me a look that calls bullshit, but then shrugs it off and proceeds to savage a croissant.
“How was the charity event, Lucy?” Taylor probes, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She’s clearly still salty about me going instead of her.
Oh Lord, flashbacks of JP and me in the cloakroom come flooding back. “Oh, you know, it was fine.”
Her gaze is piercing. Oh my God, does she know? I can feel my ears burning.
Coughing awkwardly, I mumble, “Um… I’m… going to run it past JP about taking some time off for my clinic session this afternoon…”
“Honestly, he’s not a monster. Of course he’ll let you,” Taylor says as she pours herself a glass of orange juice. “For the record, I think you’re handling this remarkably. I don’t think I could cope with amnesia like you are.”
I’m floored. “Is that a compliment, Taylor? Are you feeling sick or something?”
Her lips tighten, clearly not appreciating my jab. “Maybe if you and Matty didn’t provoke me so much, you might recognize when I’m being genuine.”
My eyebrows rise. “Okay. Well… thanks.”
I smile at her and walk away, mind churning. Is it really such a disaster that Taylor is the boss? She’s meticulous, dedicated, and not afraid to get her hands dirty. Begrudgingly, I admit she’s more suited for the role than Andy.
Maybe it’s my own pride getting in the way of seeing that.
I glance over at Matty, who’s laughing it up with Brody and the Tonys. Sure, he’s fun, but maybe he’s not the best influence on me. And I can’t just keep going with the flow.
For so long, we’ve complained about Taylor, vilified her even. But maybe the real villain here is… me?
All morning, we’re immersed in the grand scheme to magically make every Quinn & Wolfe casino game and amenity cashless. This alpine retreat of a hackathon is proving to be quite the productivity booster. Even Matty has declared it decidedly less wild than the standard Vegas hackathons, with a hint of disappointment, I might add.
However, my mind is a hot mess, simmering with post-coital angst after last night. I can’t stop replaying all my dirty moments in my mind, but now, as typical, paranoia has set in.
All morning my emotions have been spinning like they’re stuck in a high-speed blender because of the stupid unsettling dog dream and last night’s X-rated encounter with JP. My reaction feels too intense for someone who isn’t my boyfriend.
JP didn’t promise me anything. Just because a man says he wants you doesn’t mean he wants to be exclusive. Guys can say the most spectacular things to get you into bed.
I had this issue with a guy I called Bumble Brad. After five dates I assumed exclusivity. He showered me with compliments, calling me an “amazing human being.”
Meanwhile, he had a whole lineup of other “amazing” human beings for each night of the week. I was just Wednesday. I promptly resigned from the Miss Wednesday position.
But who was in the wrong there, him or me? He never said we were exclusive. I never asked if he was seeing other people.
Still, I didn’t use protection with JP. What the hell was I thinking? The truth is, in the moment it just felt so intimate. So natural. I got caught up in how he made me feel.
“Get it together, you floozy,” I mutter, dropping into my chair and adjusting the angle of my laptop screen. I massage my temples and take a deep breath to regain my sanity before hitting the call button.
The smiling digital face of Dr. Ramirez pops up on my screen. “Lucy, how are you doing today?”
“Honestly? I’m a bit of a mess,” I admit, surrendering to a weary sigh. I slump back in my chair, fingers weaving through my hair. “Just another day in the life, I guess.”
“Healing isn’t a linear process. Don’t be too harsh on yourself if progress seems slower than you’d like,” she advises, her gaze carefully scrutinizing me. “What’s troubling you today?”
I dive right in, gushing about my insane dream about the Jekyll and Hyde dog.
She takes a moment to chew on my dream saga. “Well, dreams can be quite mysterious,” she muses, smiling at me. “Like an unsolved Rubik’s Cube.”
I squint back at her through the screen. A Rubik’s Cube? Could she conjure up something a bit less metaphorical and a bit more helpful?
“Dreams,” she continues, “often offer a glimpse into our subconscious, shedding light on worries or fears that we might not realize we’re carrying.”
“But what could the dog possibly signify?” I ask, frustration coloring my voice. “And more importantly, what am I supposed to do with it?”
“Perhaps the aggressive behavior of Buddy signifies a fear or anxiety you’re currently wrestling with. It could represent an impending threat or stressor in your life against which you feel powerless.”
“Could be anything then.” I sigh, sinking further into my chair. “My apartment not selling for one.”
“Let’s simplify this,” she says with an encouraging smile. “Tell me about the dream again, but explain it like you’re talking to a nine-year-old kid.”
“Buddy was a good dog one minute, a terrifying beast the next. And I didn’t see it coming.”
She nods. “This could be your mind’s way of preparing you for something difficult you’ve been avoiding.”
I bite my lip. “That’s a bit unsettling, doc.”
“Sometimes we have to confront the possibility of pain or stress that we’ve been avoiding. Our discussions, the strategies we are working on, are all aimed at making you stronger, more resilient. And they’re preparing you to confront any distressing or traumatic experiences that may surface.”
I shrug, feeling overwhelmed. “That’s all well and good, doc, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with that knowledge.”
“I believe that once we initiate your hypnotherapy sessions, things will start to get clearer.”
I release a long, heavy sigh.
Switching gears, she asks, “So Lucy, what else has been happening this week? The last time we spoke, you were prepping for a trip to Bear Mountain. Judging from that breathtaking view behind you, it looks like you’re there.”
“Yep. It really is spectacular here. So calm and peaceful. I’m just up to my neck in work.” I feel my cheeks redden.