Couple's Therapy

CHAPTER SIX

It had been about a week since Barbra Jean's hiding of assets had come to light, and having not heard anything about it since Reba foolishly assumed that the two were handling it just fine. She was sitting on the sofa reading when the front door opened, and Brock walked in.

"Hey, Reba."

"Hey, Brock, what's up?" she asked.

He shut the door and looked around, "Kids home?"

She shook her head. "No, why?"

"Can we talk?" he asked, closing the distance and sitting on the arm of the chair closest to the door.

Reba sighed and set her book down, "What about?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Well, this whole thing about Barbra Jean tuckin' money away hasn't really been sittin' right with me."

Reba pursed her lips, "Understandable."

He crossed his arms and his legs. "I– I just don't understand why she felt like she had to."

Reba rolled her eyes and shifted closer to the edge of the couch cushion. "Oh, come on, Brock. You don't really give off an air of "stable husband," she air quoted.

"I'm stable," he scoffed.

She leaned heavily on her knee with one arm and locked her elbow, skewering him with a wicked glare. "You're kiddin', right?"

He blinked at her, "Okay, fair." He got up and moved to sit beside her, "Reba, there's a bigger issue here. She's technically been stealing from me; it's a betrayal of trust!"

She raised an eyebrow, "You do realize who you're talkin' to, right?"

He clamped his mouth shut and looked down at his hands.

She pushed off from her knees and got up. "Look, Brock, all I'm sayin' is that if I'd thought of it at the time, I'd have done the same thing." she glanced around the house. "And, I woulda been better off for it too."

Brock jumped up to follow as she headed toward the kitchen. "Where are you goin'?"

"To grab a couple of beers."

"Oh, thanks!" he smiled.

"They're for me."

He frowned.

She kept walking, "Brock, I don't think I'm the right person to be talkin' to about betrayal of trust."

"Alright," he agreed and scampered after her. "Maybe not, but I don't have anyone else!" he pleaded. "C'mon, Reba, you're my best friend."

She crinkled her nose. "Yeah, how'd I let that happen again?" she grumbled and yanked open the fridge. "Here," she tossed him a long neck.

He pulled open one of the drawers under the window. He took out a bottle opener, cracked open his beer, and took a seat at the island.

She cracked the top off her own and let the cap fall into the sink, then folded her arms over her chest. "Why are you really here?" she asked as she watched him take several long chugs.

He sighed and set his now half-empty beer on the tile in front of him. "To be honest, Reba, I kinda feel like Barbra Jean and I–"

"Ah, ah!" she put her hand up. "If you're about to have a half-baked epiphany about your marriage again, I don't wanna hear it."

"But–"

"Have you ever stopped to consider how some of the things you say might affect me?" she asked.

He shrunk and sat back against the chair. "No, I– I guess I hadn't." He picked at the label on his Corona.

With her arms still crossed, she took a long pull of her beer and then chewed her lip as she contemplated outing herself to him. "I've been seein' Dr. Baker," she said after a moment. "Professionally," she quickly clarified.