He Called Our Son a Curse, Now I Own His Company novel · Chapter 8 of 24

Chapter 8: The Stairwell

The next Wednesday, the waiting room television was off.

Somebody had stuck a note on it that said Quiet Hour in marker.

I knew whose handwriting it was before Caleb Mercer looked up from his chair and lifted two fingers in a greeting.

His nephew sat beside him, doing a puzzle of the Brooklyn Bridge with the same blank, steady attention as Max.

"I called the front desk Monday," Caleb said, when I sat down. "I told them it was on me."

"You can't switch off a television in a clinic."

"I can if I'm the one who pays for the new one." He glanced at Max, who was already across the carpet with the boat book. "Don't tell them it was a bribe."

"I'd never."

Max went into his session at ten with his ferry book held to his chest.

I stayed in the hall, because I always stay.

A moment later Caleb's nephew went in for his own.

That left the two of us and the quiet.

"You've been carrying something heavy for three weeks," Caleb said.

"That's a very personal thing to say to a stranger."

"I know. I've watched you for two weeks, so you're not exactly a stranger." He held up a hand. "That came out wrong."

I laughed.

It was the second time in three weeks, and it hurt a little.

"My husband filed for custody," I said.

I had not planned to say it.

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