Regular Order

Tommaso

My heart pounded as I followed her to the elevator and out of the office building. Paige looked just about as pissed as when I’d walked her in, but I couldn’t forget the feeling of her hand in mine. For a split second, she’d trusted me outside the four walls of our home. But after whatever happened in Dr. McMillan’s office, she’d turned back into the woman who’d been ghosting around my house for almost a week, irritable and hungry.

When we reached the car, I directed Patrick back to that restaurant we’d stopped at on the way from the airport. It might’ve been the first cheesesteak place she saw, but with the way her eyes lit up, I doubted it. It seemed special to her.

Should I ask how it went? No, of course not. I might not have ever been to therapy myself, but I knew most people went for months, if not years. I just wished I could do more than buy her a cheesesteak. I wished I could figure out how I kept pissing her off.

We arrived at the restaurant.

“Fried onions on top,” sh