“You tell me. Since you’re the one seeing things.”
Quentin shook his head as he started to peel off the covers. “This is just going too far.”
Alyssa quickly covered her eyes with her hand when he jumped out of bed. “Oh, my God! Hurry up and put something on.”
Q frowned as he reached down and snatched his robe from the floor and pulled it on. “You’re in my bedroom, remember?” He stopped and then looked over at the bed and then back at his sister-in-law. “Just how long have you been here, anyway?”
Alyssa peeked through her fingers and saw that Quentin was decent, so she lowered her hand. “I’d rather not answer that question.”
Embarrassment heated Quentin’s face—and he was not a man who easily got embarrassed. “You can’t keep doing this!”
“Hmm?” The sheets ruffled behind him.
When he turned around, Christina lifted her head. “What did you say, baby?”
“Nothing,” he lied to reassure her. “Go back to sleep.”
Christina gave him a lazy smile. “What are you doing up? Come back to bed.” She stretched out her arm to pat the empty space beside her for emphasis. “It’s getting lonely over here.”
“I’ll be back in a minute. I’m just going to the bath room.”
“Mmm,” she moaned, and then plopped her head back down onto the bed. “Hurry up. I’m missing you, big daddy.”
“You got it.” He waited a few seconds.
“Zzzzzzz.”
Quentin turned his angry gaze back toward Alyssa.
She just frowned. “Big daddy?”
“Drop it.”
“Hmm?” Christina asked.
“Nothing,” he hissed, and then stormed toward the bathroom. “I’m not going crazy. I’m not going crazy,” he repeated under his breath.
“You might want to get a second opinion on that,” Alyssa said, following behind him. “Like maybe go back and see that nice Dr. Turner you were talking to last month.”
Quentin groaned. “I don’t need a shrink. Thank you very much.”
“And yet here I am,” she volleyed back.
When they reached the bathroom door, Quentin stopped abruptly and looked back at her. “Do you mind? Can a guy get a little privacy?”
“Sorry.” Alyssa folded her arms and leaned against the door frame. “A few minutes ago you were all too willing to show me big daddy.”
Quentin slammed the door in her face, but he could still hear her laughing on the other side. “Women! Even the imaginary ones were impossible to live with.” He shook his head as he relieved himself and even took a quick shower. By the time he had wiped away the steam from the mirror, he was reasonably sure that he’d pulled himself together.
That is, until Alyssa leaned over his right shoulder.
“Aaaaah!” He took his towel and covered the front of his chest like a damsel in distress.
Alyssa jumped and screamed, too.
Knock. Knock.
“Quentin? Are you all right in there?” Christina asked, twisting the doorknob.
Q finally clamped his mouth shut when he realized what the whole thing must have sounded like on the other side of the door. “Uh, yes! Never better.”
There was a brief pause before Christina asked. “Why were you screaming?”
“What? Uh…”
Alyssa snickered and then immediately launched into a game of charades to help him out.
“I saw…someone? No. Something?”
Alyssa nodded.
“Like what?” Christina asked.
“I, uh…” He looked to Alyssa, who was running around the bathroom with her fingers in the shape of a V over her head.”
“I don’t know. It looks like a rabbit—no? A what? What the hell is that?” he whispered to Alyssa.
“A cockroach,” she answered, offended that he didn’t get it. “A cockroach!” he thundered. “That looked nothing like—”
“You have roaches?” Christina asked, sounding disgusted.
“No!” he snapped at the door.
“You said—”
“Forget what I said.” He glared back at Alyssa. “I, uh, just thought I saw a gray hair.”
“Oh,” Christina said dubiously from the other side of the door.
“A gray hair?” Alyssa challenged, frowning. “You’d freak out like that over a gray hair?”
“Maybe.” Q rolled his eyes. “By the way, what happened to my privacy?”
Alyssa shrugged. “I waited until you had finished showering.”
“I don’t get this. How in the hell am I being haunted by someone who is still alive?” He headed toward the door.
“Maybe that’s why you need to go back and see Dr. Turner.”
“No! I’m not crazy!” Quentin snatched open the door.
Christina, clutching the top silk sheet to her chest, asked suspiciously, “Who are you talking to in there?”
“No one,” he answered too quickly.
Christina peered over his shoulder and looked into the empty bathroom. “You know, uh, I really should be going. I, uh, have a very full day tomorrow.” She turned and started grabbing her clothes.
“Wait. You don’t have to leave,” he said.
“Don’t worry. I’ll call you later,” she said, moving like someone had struck a match to her behind. Less than two minutes later, she was dressed and racing out of the house with Q trying to catch up so that he could at least walk her to her car. But just as he reached the front door, it slammed in his face.
At the top of the stairs, Alyssa folded her arms. “That went well.”
The next day Quentin stretched out his six-foot-two frame across the black leather chaise, staring up at the ceiling in Dr. Julianne Turner’s downtown Atlanta office. Truth be told, he’d surprised himself by returning to the doctor’s office for another round of therapy, especially since he didn’t really believe that there was anything wrong with him.
“Oh,
