Chapter 56.

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I push the door to Starbucks open, and immediately, my eyes find Marchant in the corner. I push my way through the coffee shop, instantly regretting to meet him here. Regretting meeting him at all, even if it has been a week since I got back from L.A. and this is the fourth rearranged date.

Because, ugh, this smell.

My stomach churns and I swallow desperately, begging the three sips of water I chanced before leaving my apartment to stay down. They do, for now, and I slide into the chair opposite Marchant.

"Hi," I mutter.

"You don't look like you're doing too well" he says in greeting.

I look at him flatly. "I've been on a first-name basis with the inside of my toilet for the last damn week. Should I look good?"

"I'm sorry to hear that. Have you seen your doctor for any anti-nausea medication?"

I sigh. "I'm going to call her in the morning."

"You should rest. If I knew you were sick, I would have come to you. Would you like to go home?"

"No," I shake my head. "It's too suffocating in there."

He looks at me knowingly. "Without Harry?"

I fidget. "Yes."

"What made you leave him?"

"I haven't left him. Entirely. I'm...taking a break from him."

Marchant's lips twitch. "Okay, so what made you need to take a break from him?"

"Everything," I reply. "I feel like I'm so addicted to him that that's all I am. I'm not Liv anymore.

I'm just...addicted. I obsess over him literally all the time. I can't do it anymore—I have to be me, too. It hurts."

"So don't let yourself be that bad."

"Really? Years of studying to understand the human mind and all you've got is, 'Don't let yourself be that bad'? I figured that out without the degree." I roll my eyes and set my hand on my stomach.

March laughs. "I didn't mean it so simply. I mean that, once a day, take thirty minutes for yourself and do something that's you. It's all about perspective, Liv. If you allow yourself to make everything about him, it will be."

"It's not about allowing myself. I can't help it. He's the center of my world. Hell, he's the center of my whole damn universe, and all I can do is hold on to his gravitational pull while I spin out of control."

"You can help it. Of course you can. It's your decision, and you have control because you're aware of it. You're in the position where you can grab your addiction by the balls and deal with it."

"Is that professional lingo, Doctor? Grabbing addiction by the balls?"

He half-grins. "If it's not, it should be. It's a very clear instruction, don't you agree?"

"I do agree. And technically, that's what I want to do. I just wish it were easier to separate the addiction from the love. Sometimes, they feel like they're the same thing."

"They are in some aspects. They both make you feel good and they both hurt."

"Too much," I say softly. "So much that it's impossible to differentiate the good and bad feelings."

March sits back and rubs his chin. His eyes study me intently for a moment. "Have you considered that the way you're feeling is less about addiction and more about love? You just admitted that they feel the same, and for someone addicted and without the thing they crave, you're incredibly calm."

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