_OceanofPDF.com_The_Girl_on_the_Train_-_Paula_Hawkins

“I can’t, Scott, it’s too late,” I say. “Why don’t you ask Dave and
Karen to come here on Saturday instead?” Just the thought of
entertaining Dave and Karen at the weekend is wearing, but I’m going to
have to compromise.
“It’s not too late,” he says, putting his coffee cup down on the table in
front of me. He rests his hand on my shoulder for just a moment, says,
“Cancel it, OK?” and walks out of the room.
The second the front door closes, I pick up the coffee cup and hurl it
against the wall.
EVENING
I could tell myself that it’s not really a rejection. I could try to persuade
myself that he’s just trying to do the right thing, morally and
professionally. But I know that isn’t true. Or at least, it’s not the whole
truth, because if you want someone badly enough, morals (and certainly
professionalism) don’t come into it. You’ll do anything to have them. He
just doesn’t want me badly enough.
I ignored Scott’s calls all afternoon, I turned up to my session late and
walked straight into his office without a word to the receptionist. He was
sitting at his desk, writing something. He glanced up at me when I
walked in, didn’t smile, then looked back down at his papers. I stood in
front of his desk, waiting for him to look at me. It felt like forever before
he did.
“Are you OK?” he asked eventually. He smiled at me then. “You’re
late.”
The breath was catching in my throat, I couldn’t speak. I walked
around the desk and leaned against it, my leg brushing against his thigh.
He drew back a little.
“Megan,” he said, “are you all right?”
I shook my head. I put my hand out to him, and he took it.
“Megan,” he said again, shaking his head.
I didn’t say anything.
“You can’t . . . You should sit down,” he said. “Let’s talk.”
I shook my head.
“Megan.”
Every time he said my name he made it worse.
He got to his feet and circled the desk, walking away from me. He
stood in the middle of the room.