BROKEN VOWS:- Falling For My Marriage Counselor

CHAPTER 7

RONAN

The moment the door clicked shut behind them, I dragged a hand down my face and let out the breath I’d been holding since the session started. My jaw ached. I hadn’t even realized how tight I had been clenching it, holding everything together while that asshole sat five feet from me, spewing venom at her like it was nothing.

Professional. Calm. Neutral. That’s what I was supposed to be. That’s what my degree and years of training demanded. But the truth was, for the last two hours, every word that spewed out of his mouth had made me want to break something. Preferably his nose.

I sat back in the mahogany armchair that suddenly felt too small, too confining. I clenched the notepad and pen in my hands as I looked at the spot she sat in just a couple of minutes ago, my chest rose and fell in tight, shallow pulls. God, I’d forgotten how much she could undo me without speaking.

She’d barely looked at me, but that didn’t stop me from looking at her and the way her olive skin looked so smooth and moisturized. Her eyes down, hands restless in her lap, shoulders drawn in like she was trying to make herself feel smaller. And every time he spoke for her—over her—something sharp burned through me.

Why him? Why the hell did she leave me for him?

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, pressing my fingers together hard enough for me to hear the crack of my knuckles. Joe—I always knew he was a son of a b***h, the dude didn’t even respect her enough to let her answer basic questions.

He turned therapy into a performance. Waving his accusations around like weapons while she sat there swallowing it all down.

And she’d married him. And chose him. Over me.

The thought made my stomach twist as I stood up and walked back to my desk. I shoved the pad aside, the pen clattering onto the desk. My reflection in the darkened laptop screen stared back, jaw taut, eyes shadowed. I looked like a man trying so hard to hold himself together.

A buzz from my phone pulled me out of the loop of thoughts I was trapped in.

Liam:- Come by the restaurant. I’ve got a new bottle of white wine that just arrived.

Of course, it was Liam. He always knew when to drag me out of my head. I stared at the text for a beat, then moved, already reaching for my jacket. Work was impossible now. If I don’t leave here, my mind will circle the same question until it drives me insane.

Why him? Why not me?

I opened the door and found Stacy, my assistant, typing at her desk. She glanced up, surprise flickering when she saw me with my coat and briefcase.

“Cancel my appointments for the rest of the day,” I told her, my voice sharper than I meant it to be. “Reschedule them for later in the week.”

She blinked. “All of them?”

“Yes.” My tone left no room for an argument.

“Of course, Dr Carter.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel’s restaurant, The Gilded Fork, sat at the edge of the docks, windows stretching wide to give a view of the perfect sunset and restless sea. The scent of saltwater always clung to the place, mixing with the rich aroma of steak and fresh herbs. Warm light spilled inside as I entered, and for the first time all day, I felt a little less like I was suffocating.

“Hello, Mr Carter,” The hostess said.

“What about Liam?”

“Right this way.”

She ushered me toward the back corner booth, where Liam sat with his sleeves rolled up, a glass of wine in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Already having fun without me?”

He looked up, a wide smile spreading across his face as he rose and pulled me into a tight hug.

“Well, well, well. The prodigal son finally returns.” He pushed the bottle across the table. “Sit. Drink. And tell me why you look like you want to strangle someone.”

I slid into the booth, the leather squeaking beneath me, and poured myself a glass without answering. The sweet, expensive richness of the wine glides down my throat, easing the weight pressing in my chest.

“It’s her,” I said finally, setting the glass against the table, the soft clink filling the silence. “She’s one of my clients.”

Liam’s brows shot up. “Her? Who do you mean by ‘her’?”

I didn’t need to clarify as realization dawned on him.

“Jesus,” he muttered, leaning back. “And?”

“And she’s still married to that son of a b***h. And now she’s sitting in my office, trapped in a marriage that’s tearing her apart, and I have to sit through a two-hour counseling session, pretending I don’t know every inch of her.”

The words spilled faster than I could catch them, anger and disbelief tangling in my chest. I raked a hand through my hair, tugging until my scalp stung. “I can’t wrap my head around it, Liam. I can’t understand how she left me for him. I thought—I thought I was the problem. I thought maybe I wasn’t enough. But seeing them today? It was enough confirmation that there’s more to the story.”

Liam studied me, his face tightening with concern. “She looked bad?”

I swallowed the memory sharp in my head. “She looked… smaller. Like whatever spark she had has been beaten out of her, and that’s not the woman I know. She couldn’t even hold my eyes for more than a second. But I saw it. The flicker. She still feels it, Liam. She has to.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The restaurant buzzed around us—clinking glasses, laughter, the hum of conversation—but on our table, the silence pressed heavily.

“You’re a professional,” Liam said finally, voice, “you're supposed to be neutral.”

I gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah. I was composed when he shoved his knee into hers like she was a piece of furniture. I was composed while he called her dramatic, ungrateful, and selfish. I was composed while she sat there curling herself into a tight ball, she didn’t notice.” My hands curled into fists on the table. “If that’s neutrality, I don’t want it.”

Daniel exhaled slowly, reaching for a bottle of whiskey I didn’t notice sitting on the table. “So… what now?”

I looked out the window, watching the ocean roar and crash against the docks. “She’s my client,” I said almost to myself. “But she’s also the woman I haven’t stopped thinking about since the day she left me. And now she’s here in front of me, drowning, and I’m supposed to just take notes?”

Liam didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

I drained the glass of whiskey in one go, the burn working its way through my tense body. And for the first time since the Calloway mansion, something deep inside me stirred.

This wasn’t about professionalism anymore.

This was about answers.

And I’d get them, one way or another.