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I tightened my jaw.
I felt that anger bubbling inside of me again.
“So, Anna,” I said.
Don’t do it.
No.
“Why aren’t you having sex?” I asked.
Anna gasped and jumped for the door.
She opened it.
“Can’t answer one of my questions?”
She looked back at me. “Goodbye, Joe.”
“I’m not wrong,” I said. “And it concerns me.”
“What concerns you?”
“You’re not having sex.”
“Joe…”
“I know the look in your eyes, Anna. I know yourlack-of-sex face.”
That’s when Anna’slack-of-sex faceturned intoI-fucking-hate-you-Joe face.
She stormed away.
I guess that meant the session really was over.
Chapter Eight
ANNA
I satat the dining room table. Alone.
A notepad in front of me.
An empty glass of wine to my right.
The pen in my hand… clicking open. Clicking shut.
Over and over.
I told myself I needed to sit and take some notes on Joe.
How to help Joe.
What I wanted Joe to achieve.
Of course on my left shoulder was the angel voice telling me to just give it up. To call the lawyers and owners and explain there was a conflict of interest. Open up about my private history with Joe. Offer to take on other clients or players or executives. And of course help Joe find someone else to talk to.
But I didn’t want to do that.
