Page 37 of Touch of Class

“I am,” Gillian said without chagrin, “and I do still like numbers.”

“It makes sense. You were always good at making complex variables make sense. Honestly, I’m surprised you went the career route you did.”

“Why? Aren’t people the most complex set of variables?” Gillian asked. “I find humans just as fascinating as any financial model, if also more volatile.”

“I suppose, but when we graduated, I would’ve never guessed you’d end up in therapy.” Daphne seemed to catch herself, then laughed. “Let me rephrase. I always knew you needed a therapist, I just didn’t expect you to be one.”

“Everyone needs a therapist,” everyone except for Sawyer said in unison.

Daphne laughed. “Why do I get the feeling you all have had this conversation before?”

“Because we have,” Gillian said, not hating the way her people had jumped in or the way Daphne’s cheeks colored with amusement. “And for what it’s worth, we’re all very good therapists.”

Daphne looked her dead in the eye, the hint of a smile playing at her lips, and said, “I may’ve questioned your choices daily, but I never doubted you’d become the best at whatever you chose to be.”

Ten

Daphne stepped out of her office behind Sam, the sweet, and very recently post-op trans man she’d been meeting with for a few weeks as he did the physical and emotional work of getting comfortable being held in the body he’d longed to possess, even though it all felt new and raw.

“Thanks again,” Sam said. “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

Daphne beamed at him and fought the urge to tousle his messy mop of brunette hair. “I have no doubt you are.”

“See you next week?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly on the inflection.

“I’m already looking forward it.”

He blushed sheepishly. “Me too.”

She watched him walk away, then caught sight of Hugh coming in the opposite direction. He was still dressed for work with a crisp white shirt and vibrant indigo tie neatly visible under a knee-length, gray wool jacket.

He swung open the front door with the same gusto with which he did so many things, giving even the mundane an air of drama. “Oh hello, Love. Was that one of your adoring snuggle bugs on the way out?”

She shook her head. “You know I can’t say.”

“No, of course not, but if the boy mentions he’s looking for a father figure, perhaps pass along my card.”

She laughed. “He’s twenty-four. You wouldn’t.”

Hugh laughed. “Probably not, but it’d be fun to let myself be tempted.”

“Hmm.” Daphne didn’t quite argue, as it had been long enough that she wouldn’t mind a little temptation of her own.

“Where’s the other love of my life?” Hugh segued before she’d fully let herself register her own wistfulness.

“Probably in the waiting room doing homework.” Daphne took a few steps back down the hallway and pointed through the window. Sure enough, Izzy sat at the reception desk, head bent low over a set of papers while Gillian leaned over her, hip resting lightly on the desk, one hand bracing herself, and a pencil tucked behind her ear.

Just then, Izzy looked up at her and smiled brightly. Gillian returned the expression with open affection Daphne had never seen in her before. A pang of something she didn’t recognize and didn’t love lanced through her chest, but before she had a chance to examine it, Gillian glanced up and met her eyes. Whatever the previous emotion had been, it exploded tenfold.

Gillian was stunning, always, but especially when she focused the intensity that seemed so uniquely hers. Only she’d never focused on Daphne. She always looked past her or through her, as if searching for something more engaging on the horizon.

And true to form, the minute they pushed open the door, someone else caught Gillian’s attention. “You must be Hugh.”

“Papa!” Izzy jumped up. “This is Gillian. She’s helping me with math.”

“The one and only.” He laughed lightly. “How generous of you to take an interest in Izzy’s homework.”

“Oh, this isn’t homework,” Izzy said excitedly. “It’s for fun. We’re plotting relational variables on graph paper.”