‘Right,’ she says, with a not-too-subtle wink. She air-kisses my cheek, turns to find Cormac with her eyes and says, ‘Enjoy.’

I sit there, keeping my head down, eyes averted. I turn my phone to silent, so it won’t ring and catch his attention. A couple sits on the table next to me, and they begin dismantling a newspaper, talking quietly between themselves. I order one more coffee and follow Cormac with my eyes.

I’m there for an hour. The lunch crowd comes and goes and I stay looking down at my phone, stealing occasional glances as the afternoon wears on. Out on the street I see rain starting to fall. I know I should leave before I end up the only one left, and Cormac will inevitably notice his psychologist sitting alone. There are four waitstaff and fortunately he’s not working any of the tables near me. He stands beside the coffee machine now, flirting with the barista, who touches his arm when she laughs. He made her laugh. The barista with the green eyes. He disappears through a door to the kitchen and comes back with his backpack on.

He steps close to her. I see it and my heart seems to cease beating for a second. A kiss. Not on the cheek but on the lips. It’s a tiny, uncomfortable moment for me. I interrogate the feeling: why do I care? Why am I still sitting here, stalking a client?

I try to answer these questions, I try to understand my motivations, but I can’t. They kissed, the beautiful young woman behind the coffee machine and Cormac. Perhaps this woman can make him happy. Perhaps he won’t need our sessions if he has her.

Then he leaves. I rise, quickly forcing a twenty dollar note into the waitress’s hand and don’t wait for the change. I step past a couple, who stand in the entrance collapsing rain-slicked umbrellas. Then I’m outside. He’s just ahead, conjuring his own umbrella from somewhere. He strides quickly, pushing headphones into his ears and touching his phone. He’s talking to someone.

What are you doing, Margot?

The rain continues to fall, soaking the shoulders of my blouse. The urge to follow him is so strange and sudden, I don’t know where it’s come from. I want to understand him more, I tell myself, to help treat him.

I go back and get in my car, turn the heating on and set off. New buds of rain sprout on the glass between each swish of the wipers.

I get home and Gabe is there, studying me from the kitchen bench. I can barely meet his eyes, with shame crawling below my skin like cockroaches. Is this emotional cheating? I was almost jealous, protective of another man. I cared and was hurt. I didn’t think about how Gabe would react until now. ‘Long brunch,’ he says.