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I wiped under my eyes.

She scoffed. “You’re gonna hate sitting in couple’s counseling with Neil.”

I groaned. “A thousand dollars says he has the therapist completely fooled.”

“You should make him go to yours. That way she can call bullshit.”

I picked my head up and looked at her. “You know what? That’s actually genius.” I smiled. “I just got an idea.”

She grinned. “What?”

I pulled out my phone and dialed Neil.

He picked up on the first ring. “Ali?”

It annoyed me how much hope was in his voice.

“Hi, Neil. We’re going to do a little trust exercise.”

“Okay…” he said.

“For the next four months you’re going to see a therapist. My therapist. You. By yourself. You’re going to tell my parents that I’m going with you—”

“Why would I—”

“Shhhhh! I’m talking and you’re listening. I’m going to give her permission to talk to you about anything I’ve talked to her about, so you’ll have all the insight you need into why we’re not together. You will tell my parents that we’re in couple’s counseling. And at the end of the sixteen weeks, provided you haven’t thrown me under the bus to Dad and you’ve gone to all sixteen sessions—and I will need proof that you’ve gone to these sessions—I will agree to start going to therapy with you.”

He was silent on the other end.

“You want me back so badly, this is your big chance. And it’s also my final offer.”

More silence.

“Okay,” he said. “Yes, I agree. Thank you.”

“Fine.”

I hung up on him.

Bri was looking at me with wide eyes. “WOW. Maybe you’re the wartime consigliere.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe he agreed to it.”

“He had to. He’s lost control. His other strategies aren’t working,” I said.

“Do you think he’ll actually do it?” she asked.

“I have no idea. I’m leaning toward no.”

“And if he does?”

I shrugged. “Then Mom and I get a four-month mental health break? And then I end up doing what I think I’m going to end up having to do anyway, which is to pretend to work on our relationship?”

She let out a resigned sigh. “Oh, Ali.”

“It’ll be good for him if he goes,” I said. “He needs therapy.”

“What he needs is Jesus.”

I laughed. Then my smile fell.