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“Okay, good.”

There was a pregnant pause followed by, “But, like⁠—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I laughed.

“It was my butt, wasn’t it? You saw it and were like, yes that’s a hot ass.”

I reached over and shoved him. “No, you shit.”

He cackled. “I want to be all supportive and respect your privacy…but I also kinda want to hear what you like about me and the moment you knew you lurved me.”

“Right now, I kinda hate you, actually.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

I rolled my eyes. “You going to talk to your therapist about this?”

He grinned. “Fuck yeah, I am. Coincidentally, I meet her tomorrow. Not sure I’m looking forward to that, but at least I have something to talk about other than the disaster that is my life.”

“I’m so glad I’m able to give you subject matter for therapy.”

He stood and held his hand out for my empty bottle. “How about I make some popcorn, and we watch a movie?”

It was such a normal thing to do, something we’d done a million times, and yet it felt like more, heavier. I wasn’t delusional, thinking Alex suddenly loved me, but how I felt was out in the open, and it made every normal thing we’d always done so much more.

“Sure.”

“Okay, you pick, and I’ll get the popcorn and beer.”

We ended up watching two movies, drinking way too much, and passing out on his couch. It was so normal…and yet so different.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Alex

Dr. Leslie Thorne’s office was serene. The moment I stepped in I noticed a calming aroma, and the colors were soft, the lighting muted. She knew how to put a person at ease. I wasn’t sure how into this therapy thing I’d be, but Gideon had used her when his wife died, and I’d promised him I’d go.

I sat on a small couch in her waiting area, drinking a raspberry water her assistant had offered me. I wondered if all therapist’s offices were like this. I’d never been to one, so I had no frame of reference.

“Mr. Walker.” I looked up at the sound of my name. The assistant was regarding me with a warm expression. “Dr. Thorne will see you now. You can go right through that door.”

I followed the instruction and entered a room that was even more peaceful than the waiting area.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Walker, or can I call you Alex?” Dr. Thorne was probably in her late forties or early fifties. Her hair was a stylish white-and-silver bob. She wore red glasses, a flowing dress with huge flowers on it, and flip-flops. She smiled at me, and I instantly understood why Gideon liked her. She was the embodiment of calmness.

“Alex is fine.”

“You can call me Leslie. Please have a seat.”

She had a sitting area that reminded me of a small living room. I sat and placed my raspberry water on the coaster. “I’ve never done this in my life.”

She joined me and tucked her feet under herself. “Never talked to someone or been to therapy?”

“Ah, you’re snarky.”

She giggled. “Only sometimes.”

“My boss made me come here.”