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It was a rude awakening and I wasn’t smooth in the least in getting out of there.

By the time we got to her house, I’d managed to get my heart rate to slow down and I could even form full, coherent sentences.

The excitement over the baby shower was contagious, and I could tell everyone who came over on Saturday was happy for Hannah and Barry in the way good people deserve.

I hung out with Mom, just us, for a few hours on Saturday morning, decorating the yard, but I failed to make her worry less. At least she doesn’t look more worried when I hug her goodbye at the airport.

As far as Hannah and Barry think, that’s a win, and that gives me the confidence to take it as one too.

Mom knows I’m getting professional help, that I got a job, and that I’m looking forward, not back.

There’s little more I can do to help ease her mind. She told me her job is to worry after all—her words.

I was worried about how Dr. Natalie would react about the whole orgasms and bone-melting kisses with my boss, but when we had our session late Friday night, she didn’t so much as frown.

Sure, she had a lot of specific questions about how it happened, whether I felt cornered at any point, if I felt uncomfortable.

She was worried that I thought getting physical with someone new is something I have to do to get on with my life, and for the first time I snorted in her face.

“I have been telling myself I shouldn’t feel anything for him from the moment I met him.”

“So the attraction was instant.”

“Oh yeah.” I nodded my head a bit too hard and that finally had her cracking a smile. “Besides, I think this works well for me. It’s a way to have something but not have it be anything serious.”

Of course she went on to ask me why it wasn’t serious, why I didn’t want it to be anything serious, and around a dozen other questions like those. That part was the hardest of course, since I have no fucking clue.

But I got through it, and overall, it was a good session. It felt more like a regular check-up than an emergency intervention to me, and that makes me feel like I’m actually on the mend. I believed her when she told me I’d be all right.

By the time I’m back on the sidewalk Sunday night in front of the brownstone, Mom and therapy, and needing therapy, and all the damn messages, everything is almost out of my head.

Tomorrow will be a brand new day.

For tonight, I can absolutely go hang out with Tucker, but I want to sleep in that big, gorgeous bed and let everything wash away.

I don’t have to tell Tucker anything about my weekend if I don’t want to. We’re only slightly more than boss and employee at this point. No one owes anyone anything—romantically.

There’s no pressure, no commitment.

And I freaking love it.

I climb up the steps with so much energy that I almost knock on the door before I remember the time.

Wincing to myself, I take out my phone to text Tucker that I’m here instead of ringing the doorbell.

Every worry disappears when I see those happy brown eyes. They’re magic.

“Hi,” I say, and I swear I can hear the lightness in that one word.

Knowing the boys are upstairs, happily sleeping, a tiny knot of apprehension forms in my stomach. What if Tucker wants us to pick up right where we left off?

We’d have hours, but I don’t—I can’t really⁠—

“Did you want to come in?” Teasing me is a pretty good way to get me out of my head it seems.

“Yes, of course.”

I hurry inside and go over to the staircase, putting my backpack on the second step to take up later.