I resisted the urge to look at the clock on the wall again. I knew that I couldn’t make it move faster no matter how much I wanted it to. I watched JC out of the corner of my eye. He looked relatively calm. The slight but constant bounce of his knee let me know that I wasn’t the only one that was nervous.

There was a time when I would have reached for his hand. I would have looked at the contrast of his hand in my chocolate one and known that no matter how different we were, we were in this together. That, however, was no longer the case.

Amazing how the place we’d sought out in hopes of repairing our marriage seemed to magnify the divide between us.

Both of us turned towards the door when it opened and a blonde woman in a suit stepped out, “Mr. and Mrs. Chasez, I’m ready to see you now.”

We both stood and entered her office. There were two burgundy chairs sitting side-by-side with another chair across from it. I sat down and JC took the chair beside me. I watched the therapist sit across from us with a pen and notepad in hand.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Chasez.” She greeted.

JC gave her a small smile, “Please, call me JC.”

“Call me Nikki.” I added.

She nodded her head, “Okay. JC. Nikki. This first session is just about getting some background information. In addition to these joint sessions, I would also recommend that you two come see me separately. This is so that you each can feel free to openly express your feelings without having the fear of making your partner angry or hurting their feelings. I strongly suggest that you two agree that whatever is talked about in your individual sessions is off limits for discussion outside of the office. Would you two be okay with that?”

We both nodded our heads. I don’t know about him, but I was feeling very overwhelmed.

“Alright.” Dr. Mariah Cavanaugh clicked the top of the pen she held in her hand, “Now, I’m just going to ask a few simple questions. How long have you two been together?”

JC and I looked at one another. I nodded my head to signal to him that he should answer, “Three and a half years. We dated for two and have been married for about a year and a half.”

Dr. Cavanaugh wrote this information down, “What are both of you hoping to get out of these counseling sessions?”

Since JC had answered the previous question, I decided to go first, “I just…I don’t really know where it all went wrong. I’m hoping that maybe we can figure out how we got to this point, how to get back to where we were, and how to never wind up here again. I love him and lately, it just seems like that’s not enough anymore and I don’t know why.”

“JC?” She asked after taking a few minutes to make note of what I’d said. 

“On our wedding day, I made a vow to try my hardest to make sure that the good moments always outweighed the bad ones.” JC gave a deep sigh as he scratched the back of his neck, “I’m here because that hasn’t been the case for awhile now. I want to find out if there’s something we can do to fix that or if I need to let her go so she can find someone that is capable of doing that for her.”

I blinked rapidly in an effort to hold back the tears that were threatening to escape my eyes. For months now, I had been feeling like I was the only one that cared. His statements gave me hope that maybe just maybe we would be able to work through our problems and come out stronger and more in love than ever before.

“Would one of you like to tell me the story of how you two met?” Dr. Cavanaugh inquired. My husband and I looked at each other. Both of us broke out in smiles at the memory. The therapist eyed both of us before speaking again, “I take it that this is a fond memory for both of you?”

JC chuckled as he answered, “Definitely.” He turned to me, “Do you want to tell it or should I?”

“I’ll do it.” I volunteered before I began the story, “It happened one fateful morning at Starbucks…”

When my dad pulled some strings to get me an internship with one of Los Angeles up-and-coming photographers, Michael Donovan, I hadn’t realized that I was going to be nothing more than a glorified gopher. The only thing keeping me from quitting was the knowledge that it was going to look incredibly good on my résumé.

My cell phone rang as I entered Starbucks for the third time that day. My eyes rolled at the fact that it was probably Michael wanting to add something to his already ridiculously long order. I’m seriously beginning to think my boss has an addiction to this stuff. I dug through my purse for my phone as I headed in the direction of the counter.

One minute, I’m digging through my purse. The next, I’m staring into the blue eyes a man. A man whose coffee I just managed to spill on his white shirt and on the floor.

This day just keeps getting better.

“I am so so sorry!” I exclaim as I grabbed napkins off the station by the door that also holds straws and coffee cup sleeves. I held out the napkins to him as I continued, “I am such a klutz. It’s entirely my fault. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and I should have been. The coffee wasn’t that hot, was it? Oh man, do we need to take you to the hospital to make sure you don’t have any second or third degree burns? I am so sorry!”

I watched his gaze go from slightly annoyed to incredibly amused as I rambled, “Apology accepted.” He took the napkins from me, “There’s no need for a hospital visit. I got my coffee about a half hour ago so it was lukewarm at best.”

“You ordered a half hour ago and it’s still full?” I asked before I realized that it probably wasn’t a good idea to antagonize the man whose drink I had just doused him with, “I’m sorry. That was rude. I have this habit of thinking before I speak. It’s a real problem.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was actually half empty.” He said with a laugh and shook his head, “Or half full, but I guess that really just depends on your outlook on life.”

I grinned, “I’m Nikki, by the way.”

“JC.”

“Would it freak you out if I told you that I already knew that?” I asked.

“That depends.” He answered.

“On what?”

“On whether or not you’re going to start crying or screaming.” He quipped.

Before I could reply, my phone started ringing again, “I should really get this. It’s probably my boss. Again, I’m really really sorry.”

“It’s just a t-shirt.” JC shrugged, “Plus, most of it ended up on the floor instead of on me.”

I pulled my phone out of my purse and answered as JC walked around me to exit and some barista appeared with a mop.

“How long does it take to get coffee?” Michael demanded as soon as I answered the phone.

“I’m sorry, Michael. I got held up, but I’m stepping up to the counter right now to order your Grande extra hot soy with extra foam, split shot with a half squirt of sugar-free vanilla and a half squirt of sugar-free cinnamon with a half packet of splenda.” I resisted the urge to sigh once I finished sprouting out his ridiculous order.

“Well, even though you’re taking too long, it’s for the best that you haven’t ordered yet because I have something to add.”

This time, I couldn’t hold my sigh in, “What else do you want me to tell them?”

“Have them put the order in a Venti cup, but make sure that the actual liquid is a Grande. Then have them fill up the extra space with whipped cream with caramel and chocolate sauce drizzled on top.”

“Okay. Got it.” I told him before hanging up. I stepped up to the counter and a smiling barista asked me if she could take my order. I knew that as soon as I opened my mouth, that smile was going to disappear. At least she only had to make his coffee. I had to actually work for him.

JC’s laughter interrupted my story and I couldn’t help but join him, “Michael was certifiably nuts, but he was a genius behind a camera so people put up with him.”

Dr. Cavanaugh nodded, “If you left the coffee shop without exchanging information, than how’d you two end up together?”

“There’s definitely more to the story.” JC shook his head, “It gets better and she embarrasses herself even more.”

“He’s never lets me live this down.” I said with a groan.

“Why don’t you finish telling me the story, JC.” Dr. Cavanaugh requested.

He smiled, “Gladly.”