"But before we go any further, what's staring us in the face?" McSexy asks. "I don't understand how Imma's Bungalow Theory has anything to do with this."

"Wha'cha talkin'bout?" Bubbles mumbles under her breath.

"Ami Srettun," I clarify, holding up the Poor Housekeeping magazine. "She wrote an article about soul mates."

"There's a theory about soul mates--and bungalows?" Bubbles exhales with dramatic force. "The things researchers and journalists waste time on, nowadays."

"It's not research, exactly." I tap the magazine cover as I search for the right words. "I guess you could say Imma has a different take on soul mates. She sees them as people who ignite something within us--the good, the bad and the ugly."

"Igniting an addiction," McSexy adds.

"As in addicted to sex?" Bubbles questions.

"No." I motion towards McSexy, unable to prevent a giggle from escaping. "Our guy here isn't addicted to Sex'Capades with Mister Surgeon God."

"OH! HOLD UP!" Bubbles flares her fingers in an apparent expression of thought overload. "What are we talking about again?"

"Soul mates." I hold up the magazine to emphasize it's Imma's fresh perspective we're discussing.

"Is this an--alternative facts thing?" she asks.

"Are there any scientific facts about soul mates?" McSexy counters.

"Point well taken." With a raised eyebrow, Bubbles continues, "So--you're saying Mister God Complex is this guy's soul mate?"

McSexy shudders and makes the most adorable sputtering sound with his lips. "Not by choice."

"Pam's his soul mate, too," I add. "By choice."

"And he's addicted to both?" With a smirk and humorous tone, she lectures, "You need to get yo' self into a support group, boy."

Flipping to page 69, I skim the Poor Housekeeping article for the paragraph I want to reference. "Here. It says, 'We get drug-like highs from both loving soul mates and unlikely soul mates. It's like we become addicts addicted to their Soul Highs. Once we become hooked on the Soul High, we need more and more from these individuals to keep the high going--until eventually the Soul High is so out of hand--no human can realistically satisfy our craving anymore. Once this happens, we begin to fall out of love or we become so enraged with hate we self-implode'."

"Soul what?"

"Highs. Things that cause intense feelings," I explain. "Like--internet trolls and clickbait news. Or dreamy celebrities and thoughts of winning the lottery. Stuff like that."

"I love lottery thoughts," Bubbles admits with a sigh.

"Me, too."

"But what do bungalows have to do with it?" McSexy seems impatient as he redirects the conversation back to his original question.

"Like in Ami's Home Series," I reply. "We're looking for bungalows, not fireworks."

"That's why I love her books," Bubbles confesses. "It's like coming home after a rough life and crawling in bed with Mister Contentment and Mister Belonging. And my husband, of course. The bed gets very crowded."

"Fictional truth in a reality warped by fantasy. It's probably why those novels are insanely popular," I suggest.

"Unlike--uh!" Bubbles moans. "Don't get me started on the bad boy nonsense. Why we get addicted to that crap is beyond me."

"Who wants the demoralizing hassle of rehabilitating a bad boy, anyway?" I ask. "We're messed up creatures."

"50 shades of--you must be a delusional idiot," Bubbles replies between a chuckle.

"50 shades of--I'm addicted to the carnival House of Mirrors," I add with a laugh.

"50 blades," McSexy whispers, a sudden sadness saturating his words.

"Hmm? Why do you say that, hon?" Bubbles asks--the room now cold as though a murder has just taken place before our eyes.

His face twitches as he attempts to disguise his emotions. Something is connecting inside him. "I have a better chance showing up empty-handed at a knife fight than winning her back."

I know this moment. It feels exactly like the death of a cherished one. Although no one has physically passed, the heart must plan a funeral for the ailing hope of love. It's excruciating. I performed the same ceremony inside my mind when I got divorced from the Ex-Bot, because relationships held together by mental addictions have expiration dates. When it expires, you have no choice but to start letting go. Letting go of dreams you'll never have the chance to raise and call your own. Letting go of your beliefs in love and its ability to conquer anything. Letting go of the person you thought you'd finally become.

Time heals all wounds won't work here. I know better. Nothing heals a wound inflicted by lost hope. The best you can do is encourage a wounded soul to not lose faith in everything, despite a current faithlessness in love.

"Home is where the heart is," I say in a voice just above a whisper. Then in the spirit of compassion and light humor, I remind McSexy what aching hearts are ultimately searching for. Extending a pointed finger and reaching out towards the man with the sexy signature way of being, I say in my best alien voice, "Ouch. Go home. Home, no ouch."

He smiles.

"I get it." Bubbles nods, as though welcoming a new way of thinking. "Being addicted to something is temporary at best--total destruction at worst. But home--." She sighs, peacefulness in her exhale. "You can return to that feeling forever."

"Everything," I add. "We should be looking for home in everything. People. Careers. Causes. Everything!"

"But that spark of excitement," Bubbles argues hesitantly, scrunching her face up and squeezing her fists in the air. "I need to feel passion in my people and my everythings!"

"It's still there," I counter.

"But you're drawn to the feeling of home more than the addiction of the high," McSexy injects, finishing my sentence.

"Exactly," I agree softly.

"Let's do this!" Bubbles exclaims, an eagerness uplifting the momentum in the room. "Let's get the mojo back! What's the experiment?"

"Well--," I tease. "What do we know about the surgeon?"

"He a jerk," McSexy answers.

"I'll second that," Bubbles confirms with a raised hand.

"No! Think!" I demand. "Law of Mirrors. If he perceives you as an inferior, what does that mean?"

McSexy turns to Bubbles for counsel. "Don't look at me," Bubbles warns. "I'z late to the party."

"If two people see the same reflection--," I say, voice trailing off with the hope one of them will fill in the rest.

McSexy's eyes are on me, but his attention seems fully absorbed in what appears to be a battle inside his head--a possible battle between what he thinks is real and what might actually be the truth.

"It's in both of us," McSexy replies bluntly.

"Wait," Bubbles pipes in. "Are you saying--"

"The Doc has an inferiority complex," McSexy interrupts, finishing her sentence.

There is a moment of silence as we absorb the possibility of this statement.

"He did marry into an influential family," Bubbles comments. "Never understood how he and Imma ended up together, 'cause she's so--likeable. But marriage as a power play? That makes total sense."

"He treats people like shit and preys on younger, unavailable women," McSexy adds. "But inferiority complex or not, what kind of guy does that?"

"A God," I reply.

"No, listen," I beg. "It makes sense, right? He has no choice. He needs to believe he's a god, because no one can be more superior than him if he's convincing enough." Looking directly into McSexy's gorgeous brown eyes I say, "You're a threat to him. He knows it. He's terrified you'll see him for what he really is. Luckily for him--up until now--you've thought his reflection of inferiority was you."

Bubbles turns to the nurse like a mama about to scold her offspring. "Have I not told you a thousand times to stop shrinking and start standing up to that guy?"

"But there's a chain of command," McSexy defends. "It's not like I can just--"

"So command your chain," Bubbles fires back. "Doc can overrule you on patient care and hospital policies--nothing else. I've been telling you this all along. What's this law I didn't know I was an expert at?"

"Law of Mirrors," I answer.

"I'm a Law of Mirrors Master Jedi" Bubbles proclaims. "Listen to me, damn it."

"But the guy's a complete--narcissist," McSexy blasts back in frustration. "Nothing I say or do is going to change that!"

"You're missing the point!" I shake my hands wildly in irritation. "It's not about changing his mirror. It's about changing yours."

"And how to you propose I do that?" McSexy asks. "Obviously thinking I'm not his inferior isn't working."

"Thank him for being your smokescreen," I reply.

"Excuse me?" McSexy questions. "Thank him?"

"Yep. Thank him for the brilliant smoke and mirrors act he used on PamPam."

*****McSEXY BREAK*****

MUSIC: Avicii. Addicted To You. How did PomPoms's addiction go from McSexy to SilverFox? Find out in an exchange between the two doctors on tap, Wattpad's writing platform for text message stories. As is true with life, the situation between PomPoms and Doc Fox might not be exactly as it appears!

(My username on Tap is Marilyn. And don't worry about the spoiler alert warning. If you've read this far, you're golden.)

Your vote is truly McAppreciated. Muah!

MarilynHepburn.com

(This is a second edit chapter)