Setting: West Hollywood Couples Therapy, Los Angeles, CA
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Cristo Ghesquiere could not stop bouncing his leg. There was a tune playing in his head, a song he couldn't quite remember but something his father used to play all of the time when he was younger. That's the beat he was tapping his foot to as he sat in the reception area of his therapist's office. Ugh. Therapist. Hadn't he become the stereotypical spoiled child of a multi billionaire? The one recovering from neglectful parents and a lonely childhood spent in boarding school? A therapist...a person to discuss his problems with when he shouldn't even have problems. He had the world at his fingertips. He was accomplished, he had the perfect family, he had everything anyone could ever want. Yet somehow the death of his father had sent him spiraling and now here he was, sitting in some Los Angeles high rise taping his foot to the beat of a song he probably hated. Ugh.
A hand was placed on his right knee, stopping his foot in action. The diamond ring on the slender ring finger caught the sun and sparkled in the dull office. Cristo looked up and met the eyes of his wife, her gaze softening once their eyes connected. She slipped her hand off of his knee and placed it back on her lap without a word. Then she looked away as though it hadn't happened.
Ugh. He would have to figure out a way to apologize for all of this. The mental breakdown. The total neglect of his family. His shitty words and actions. How would he even begin to apologize for becoming the very person he had promised not to be? Therapy was a start. Ugh. Just filling out the forms made his skin crawl but this is what she wanted. Individual and couples' therapy, which meant two days out of the week he had to muster up all of the courage in the world to not only talk about his problems, but the problems in his marriage as well that were exacerbated by his problems.
"Ghesquiere?" The receptionist called out.
Cristo stood up too fast, almost startling himself. His wife shot him a confused look but once again didn't say anything. Usually she could talk his ear off but ever since they had started this whole therapy thing she had been quiet, only reserving her words for their sessions and not having anything left to say afterwards.
"She's ready for you."
Okay. Therapy had not been his idea but couples' therapy had. And since Demi already had her own therapist and he had his own therapist, they had to find a completely different therapist for couples' therapy because of conflict of interest and things like that. It was a lot. But it was the only thing keeping him from getting a divorce so he went along with it.
Demi led the way. She was dressed sensibly in a pair of skinny jeans - probably from her sister's line, a black bodysuit - also from her other sister's line, and some tennis shoes - from her brother in law's line. She was the wife of a fashion designer but had resigned herself from wearing his clothes until she figured out what they were going to do about their relationship. Her words. Not his.
