After seeing her new client off, Jill had some free time—something she always scheduled after an appointment with someone new, so she could take the time to process what had been said and go over her notes. After meeting Amelia, Jill needed the break more than anticipated. Perhaps this was due to not having welcomed someone new to her practice in a while, but Jill had more self-awareness than that. She wasn’t in the business of fooling herself—that would make her the most hypocritical therapist in all of Sydney. She was attracted to Amelia. It was as simple as that.
Needing to get out of her office, she took her notepad and laptop, and headed to the coffee shop next door. Jill and Patrick had only been in their new office for six months, but already Jill had spent a small fortune on Pink Bean coffee. The Nespresso machine they had in the small kitchen of their practice no longer held any appeal to her. She only used it—and only very reluctantly so—when she needed a quick pick-me-up before an evening appointment, after the Pink Bean had closed.
Kristin, the owner of the Pink Bean, was behind the counter. She greeted Jill as though they’d known each other for years instead of months.
“Small macchiato, coming right up,” Kristin said without Jill having to place her order.
“And I’ll have some of that banana loaf,” Jill said.
“Rough day?” Kristin asked.
“Rough is not the correct word for it.” Jill suppressed a smile. “But definitely interesting.”
“Sheryl and I had a conversation about you last night,” Kristin said, while putting a slice of banana loaf on a small plate. “Say we wanted to go into therapy, would it be ethical for you to take us on as your clients?”
“You mean couples’ therapy?” Jill eyed the banana loaf. She broke off a corner and started nibbling. Maybe she should discuss her emotional stress-eating when she next saw her own therapist.
“No, or well, yes, I guess it could be that. But we couldn’t agree on whether it would be right for you to see us as clients in your practice. Because you come to the Pink Bean all the time.”
“I would probably refer you to my colleague Patrick. That’s the beauty of having a joint practice.”
“I’m not sure Sheryl would want her therapist to be a man,” Kristin said matter-of-factly.
Jill had met Sheryl and she could definitely see that being the case.
“I’m sorry, but is this a hypothetical question or is this for real?”
Kristin handed her a small cup of coffee with a tiny white stain of milk floating at the top. “Purely hypothetical. You’ve met my other half. You know she’s rather fond of a lively debate.” Kristin sent Jill a crooked smile.
“Some people are very attached to their opinions,” Jill said.
“And some of us have to live with them.” Kristin winked at her. “Enjoy. See you later, yeah.” She looked over Jill’s shoulder at the customer who had just come in.
Jill made her way to a well-lit table by the window. She had quickly become a regular at the Pink Bean, and she wasn’t the only one. The woman who ran the yoga studio she had recommended to Amelia—Jill couldn’t remember her name—was sitting a few tables down from her, staring intently into a glass of water.
And just like that, Jill’s mind was back on Amelia. It had happened before that Jill had felt some kind of attraction to a client. She wasn’t made of steel. The difference, this time, she thought, was that it had been instant. As though, the moment Amelia had sat down in front of her, Jill had known she was in trouble. The other quite important distinction was that Jill was single now.
She took another bite of banana loaf. She had tried to convince Kristin to share whatever secret ingredient she used, but to no avail. It was so bloody good.
Jill turned her attention to her notes. Amelia really needed help. And Jill would extend it to her. It was her job—her duty. She was a professional. And health professionals should never get involved with a patient. Ever. That would have to be the end of it.
She started transferring some of her notes to Amelia’s client file on her laptop, but she was quickly distracted again by the mention of the Darlinghurst women’s soccer team. Jill googled it. There was Amelia in a team photo, towering over the rest of her team, also standing out in the goalkeeper’s different color jersey. Amelia Shaw. Never had a woman looked less like a goalie, Jill thought. Or less like she belonged on a soccer pitch. Or a science lab, for that matter. Amelia’s alluring appearance had reminded her of glamorous French actresses on the red carpet. Of gorgeous, husky-voiced—
“Hard at work?” A voice came from next to her.
Jill looked up. “Hey, Liz. Just catching up on some notes.” She quickly closed her laptop.
“You weren’t browsing the gallery’s website for a new acquisition?” Liz glanced at the empty chair next to Jill’s.
“Please, be my guest,” Jill said. “All my walls are filled to the brim with your fine works of art already.”
“We have a very exciting opening in a few weeks. This woman from Brisbane who paints the most unconventional abstracts I’ve ever seen.”
“I’ll be there, as usual.” Jill smiled at Liz. They weren’t friends exactly, but Jill was a big fan of the Griffith-Porter gallery, which Liz and her partner Jessica ran in Potts Point.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while now.” Liz’s smile was so magnetic. Christ, maybe it wasn’t just Amelia that Jill was attracted to. Maybe any woman who smiled at her in a certain way moved something inside her these days. She and Rasmus had decided to part ways more than a year ago. Maybe it was Jill’s psyche telling her that perhaps it was time to get back into the dating saddle. “Jess and I are having a small soirée this weekend. We’d both very much like for you to come. We regard you as more than a client.”
“A party at the gallery?”
“No, at our house,” Liz said.
Jill’s eyebrows shot up. Maybe a night out with the possibility of meeting some new people was exactly what she needed. “Okay. Sure. I’d love to come.” She drew in a breath. “Oh, wait. Are Hera and Kat coming?”
Liz nodded.
“You already know Hera’s my client. She may not appreciate her therapist showing up at a private function.”
Liz waved her off. “How many times have you and Hera been at the gallery together?”
“I’d prefer to check with her regardless.” Jill didn’t expect it to be a problem. The first time Jill had run into Hera at the gallery, Hera had looked like a fish out of water, but all the subsequent times, as her relationship with Kat had deepened and stabilized, she’d seemed increasingly at ease. Hera and Jill had even had a few friendly, non-therapeutic chats. Still, it was Jill’s job to always put the client first, so when she met with Hera later this week, she would ask her.
“Sure, but I’ll be expecting you, anyway.” Liz shot her that smile that must have melted dozens of women’s hearts before she met Jessica. Thanks to Hera and her relationship with Kat, Jill knew all about Liz and her former co-worker Kat’s previous careers as escorts at The Lesbian Experience. “Is it just you or will there be a plus-one?” Liz asked.
“Just me.”
“Perfect.” Liz rose. “I need to get back. Jess is expecting me.”
“Can I bring anything? On Saturday?” Jill looked up at Liz. She figured she and Amelia might be around the same height. Liz also struck Jill as the kind of person who would join an amateur soccer team. She had that sporty, wholesome look about her. Maybe she could broach the subject on Saturday.
“Just your glorious self.” She gave Jill a quick wave and turned to leave. Jill followed her with her gaze. Through the large windows of the Pink Bean, she watched Liz unlock her bicycle, a sleek, stark-white racing-bike, sling her long leg over as if it was all she ever did, and whizz off.
After the first time she’d gone to the gallery, she had been equally honest with herself—awareness is the biggest enactor of change and growth, after all. The fact that it was run by two extremely attractive women, a couple no less, was part of the draw. It was one of the reasons Jill kept returning—that, and those two gorgeous women’s taste in art, which seemed to align perfectly with hers. She couldn’t wait to discover what their home looked like. If Hera consented. And maybe it would help keep her mind off Amelia so that she could be the therapist Amelia needed next time they met.