In Loving Memory, Frank Warren

Chapter 17: Therapy

Feeling mostly human again, Frank watched Dean race through the condo preparing for work. Before his heart attack he used to think of sleeping in as a fine luxury. After, as woefully tired as he had been during his first week of recovery, the ability to wake early and get out of bed had become an exhilarating part of his day. It felt good to be up and about, not chained between the sheets.

Frank poured coffee into Dean's morning travel mug, straight black. He screwed the lid on as he watched Dean from the corner of his eye, hurrying back and forth.

"My watch," Dean muttered, glaring at his wrist as though it had hidden the gold watch as part of a conspiracy.

"Bedroom, your side on the end table," Frank advised. With Dean racing off to retrieve it, Frank admired the view before Dean vanished inside the bedroom. After noticing Dean had to search for nearly everything each morning, Frank had begun memorizing where Dean left things each night. It made him feel useful since all he was allowed to do right now was rest. However he had never noticed this habit of Dean's before his heart attack. Occasionally Frank wondered if it was new or if he had been too wrapped up in his own morning grumpiness to notice.

"Ah-ha!" Dean crowed, exiting the bedroom and waving his wallet above his head. Once again The Mighty Wallet Hunter emerged triumphant. Frank resisted rolling his eyes. However he noticed the watch glinting from Dean's wrist.

"Are you ready for today?" Dean asked, sliding the slim wallet into his pocket. Frank must have given him a confused look because his face hardened. "Therapist."

Oh. Her.

"I guess," he sighed. "Pretty sneaky of you and John to have Bill sign off on requiring it before I can go back to work."

"Not me," Dean protested. "According to John it is company policy when an employee has a heart attack."

Frank had a few opinions regarding any policy requiring therapy but he kept them to himself. There was no point in starting an argument before work, it would only make Dean late and then grumpy this evening. Frank preferred for Dean to come home in a good mood. Grumpy meant they watched any sporting event he could find on, even soap box derbies, good mood meant they might watch a classic film. It was in Frank's best interests to keep Dean in good moods.

"You'll call and let me know how it went?" Dean asked, accepting his travel mug.

"I thought we were meeting for lunch?" Frank protested. "You insisted, remember?"

"I did, didn't I?" Dean set his stuff down to slide his ever present stupid cell phone out. After tapping around on its surface for a while Dean nodded. "Yeah, I don't have an afternoon showing until two. I asked Ginny to make sure we had plenty of time for lunch."

"Where do I meet you?" Frank asked, assuming his love would want to meet at a restaurant, probably one which exclusively sold rabbit food.

"My office." Without so much as a blink, Dean slid his cell out of sight. "You know where it is, right?"

"Your office. You want me to come inside your office?" Up to now Dean had avoided the topic of Frank meeting coworkers. Frank had been trying to give Dean space on the issue regardless of how difficult it was for him.

Dean frowned at him. "You don't expect me to bring everybody outside to meet you, do you? What time do you expect to be there? I should warn you, our receptionist Ginny is a bulldog. She doesn't let anyone in without an appointment."

"Then you'd better pencil me in for lunch," Frank suggested.

A broad grin spread across Dean's handsome face. "Now there's a good idea. Oh, and I'm having lunch delivered to the office. I don't want any rude waiters getting in the way of hearing about your appointment. Okay?"