The Imposter Marin Montgomery (rom com books to read TXT) 📖

presses gently on Deborah’s shoulder. “Absolutely. I’ll be right back.”

Deborah’s mind is reeling while she waits for Alice to exit the room. Her footsteps echo across the hardwood when she returns with the water.

After thrusting the cold glass into Deborah’s palm, Alice hands her a couple of pills. “These are just regular old Tylenol.”

“Thank you,” Deborah murmurs. “I’ve got the worst headache.”

“I figured.” Alice motions to the couch. “I could tell by the grimace on your face.” Leaning forward to move a decorative pillow, Alice offers, “Go ahead and lie down if you’d like.”

“I’m sorry,” Deborah apologizes, moving her purse to the floor so she can lie down. “I’m not feeling so hot right now.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Alice gently helps Deborah reposition herself on the couch, settling the pillow underneath her head.

“Do you mind if we stop for a minute?” Deborah shuts her eyes.

“Of course!” Alice shoves her feet back in her shoes and perches on the chair. “We are in no rush. I’m on your timetable.”

Feeling dizzy, Deborah is relieved Alice doesn’t continue to pepper her with questions but is content to sit there in silence or at least accept the lull in the conversation.

Though she means to ask Alice a burning question, she quickly forgets what she wants to know, the pounding in her head taking precedence.

Half-asleep, Deborah feels a cold compress on her forehead and a hand resting on her shoulder.

Just as suddenly, the warm touch disappears, but the washcloth stays in place.

A moment later, she hears the door rattle open and shut with a soft thud. Deborah can listen to Alice talking to whoever is presumably the next client, but the voice has a familiar lilt to it.

She groans; the last thing Deborah needs is someone local thinking she needs to be shipped off to a mental ward again. Even though that would be the pot calling the kettle black, she’s used to the hypocrisy.

Deborah’s grateful when she overhears Alice say, “My office is currently occupied, so let’s do our session out here today.”

She doesn’t realize she’s fallen asleep until Alice gently tugs on her shoulder. Timidly, Deborah sits up and runs a hand through her tousled hair. Thanking Alice for respecting her privacy, she feels less stressed and more relaxed after her nap.

“Of course.” Alice ushers her out to the main room. “I can tell we’re going to be in it for the long haul. We’re going to work through this together, all right?”

Deborah gives her a noncommittal smile.

“I’ll see you in a week, and we’ll go from there.”

Hurrying out to her vehicle, Deborah breathes a sigh of relief.

CHAPTER 4

Deborah

The following Wednesday, Deborah shows up at Dr. Alacoy’s office, prompt but nervous. She’s wearing dark sunglasses, her old fears causing anxiety about being spotted in the back lot.

When she walks inside the building, she’s grateful the shades on the windows are still drawn.

“Hi, Deborah!” Alice greets her cheerfully and summons her to the back, where she motions for her to pick either the chair or couch again.

Today Dr. Alacoy is wearing a crisp white blouse tucked into dark jeans with a brightly colored scarf wound around her neck. Her hair is still in a severe bun, and her earrings are simple gold studs.

Deborah sinks into the soft, buttery leather couch as Alice settles into the chair with her notepad, this time keeping her feet on the floor.

They make small talk before they dive in. Deborah notices that Alice likes to slide her diamond wedding band up and down her ring finger.

“So,” Alice asks, “how’re you doing this week?”

“I’m okay.”

“Your limp doesn’t seem as pronounced. Are you getting along any better?”

“They gave me a cane in case I need it, but I do okay without it.” Deborah fails to mention she’s able to cope because of the pain pills she’s taking quite frequently. She doesn’t want to rouse concern in Alice that she’s painless only when medicated.

“How’re the nightmares?”

“The same.”

“I want to circle back to your sleep patterns, if that’s all right.” Alice waits for Deborah to nod her head. “Before the nightmares started, did it just take you a long time to fall asleep, but once there, you’d stay asleep, or has falling asleep and waking up in the middle of the night been problematic?”

Deborah clenches the leather strap of her purse again for emotional support. “I could fall asleep, but I’d wake up a lot, and sometimes I don’t know where I am.”

“Can you elaborate on that?”

“I’ll find myself wandering in another room of the house. I’ve fallen out of bed in the middle of the night and woken up on the floor.”

“Last time we discussed an updated visual and neurological exam.” Alice pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “To rule out issues with your coordination and vision. Have you made an appointment with either doctor?”

“I made an appointment with a neurologist and my eye doctor. My vision’s been a tad blurry,” Deborah says. “And sometimes objects seem to take on other shapes or get twisted.”

“Do you drink alcohol?”

“No.” Deborah makes a face. “I don’t even keep liquor in my house.”

“Have you ever heard the term ‘REM sleep behavior disorder’?” Alice asks. “Also known as ‘rapid eye movement behavior disorder’?”

“I haven’t.” Deborah shakes her head.

“Are you familiar with the typical sleep pattern?”

“I know there are sleep stages.”

“Yes, correct. There are two, actually. One is called nonrapid eye movement, and the other is rapid eye movement. In someone with a sleep disorder like the one I mentioned, the REM is either lacking or absent, causing someone to act out their dreams. This can force a person to jump out of bed or take part in behaviors they normally wouldn’t.”

Deborah tilts her head, unsure of what to say. The room suddenly feels stuffy, and Deborah unbuttons her light jacket. “Maybe I’m getting a hot flash.” She waves a hand toward her forehead in a cooling motion.

“I can check the temperature and turn on the fan,” Alice offers. “I