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“It was okay. Better than I thought.”
“See?” He smiled. “Not so bad, right?”
I didn’t answer.
“So you liked her, then?”
“I said it was fine.”
“Did you discuss me?”
I wasn’t sure what the right answer was, so I went with the truth. “No. We mostly talked about my childhood.”
He seemed surprised. “Not much to unpack there.”
“No,” I agreed. “Not really.” It came out so easily, it might as well have been the truth.
“When are you seeing her again?”
“Tomorrow.”
He turned the water hotter.
“Why?”
He smiled, avoiding my question. Then, in the manner in which he typically avoids things, he leaned in and kissed my forehead. “No reason.”
“No, really,” I demanded. “Why do you ask?”
He looked me up and down before cupping my breasts in his hands, changing the subject without trying too hard. “They seem smaller.”
I said nothing. He was trying to pick a fight. I was doing my best to avoid one. “You know I only want to take care of you, Laurel. Tell me you know that.”
I told him I did. And even I wasn’t sure if it was a lie.
Chapter Fifteen
Dr. Max Hastings
AFTER
“Did Mrs. Dunaway ever discuss her home life with you, Dr. Hastings?”
I thought we’d covered this. “Our relationship wasn’t really like that.”
“So she was secretive about it then?”
“I wouldn’t say that. We just didn’t discuss the ins and outs of our personal lives.”
“But over the course of eight months or so, you met at least a dozen times…”
“Yes.”
“How did you feel about Mrs. Dunaway? Would you say you were falling in love?”
“No,” I admit. I’ve only really ever loved one woman—my daughter. But how could I explain that to Dr. Jones without playing into her hand exactly as she wanted me to do?
I couldn’t.
