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“Did you have fun tonight?” Rhea asked as they waited for the Uber she ordered.
Paige relied on holding her wife’s hand to stay up on her feet. “I found out you write dirty smut. Is that fun?”
“Only if you don’t insist on reading it.”
“Maybe I wanna.” Paige’s hair lightly brushed against Rhea’s shoulder. “You’re a pretty good writer. I bet it’s utterly scandalous.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Is it about me?”
Headlights shone in the distance. “Not really, believe it or not.”
“Is it aboutyou?”
“Not everything is about someone other than the people who live in my head.”
Paige repeated that statement to herself, fumbling for the meaning. In truth, Rhea wasn’t sure what that meant, either. She simply knew it sounded good for when her loved ones pried way too deeply into her personal projects.
A woman was allowed her secrets. Now, Rhea had a feeling those secrets may come up in conversation a little too often.
Chapter 23
Dr.Sevillealwayswelcomedher clients with a smile and a handshake if they wanted it. Paige reached out to secure her fingers around the therapist’s. Rhea, however, was timid enough to look like she didn’t even know how to shake someone’s hand when presented with the option.
Which was silly, of course. Paige knew her wife was perfectly adept at socializing and leaving a good impression on people. But the deer in headlights look every time she walked through the therapist’s doors did not inspire confidence.
“Tell me what’s been going on since the last time we spoke,” Dr. Seville said after they all sat down. Paige turned off her phone and tucked it into her bag. Rhea left hers in the back pocket of her jeans. Every time she received a notification, she straightened her spine with a start. “Are things still progressing nicely in your journey to rediscover one another?”
That was such a strange question, but Paige couldn’t refute the truth. “We’ve learned a couple of things we didn’t know when we went out this weekend.” She glanced at her wife, who remained stoic where she sat. “For example, my wife writes spicy stuff on the side.”
“Oh?” While Rhea stiffened, Dr. Seville’s poker face did not completely hide her surprise. “It’s good to have your outlets for the thoughts in your head.”
“That’s what I told her,” Rhea said.
“She won’t tell me what it’s about, though,” Paige teased. “I’ve asked.” She had, too. The more she thought about it since that night in Hellfire, the more interested she became in what compelled her wife to write aboutanythingsexual. That wasn’t to be confused with the fade-to-black love scenes that already existed in Rhea’s literature. Paige had read most of them. They weren’t anything but the standard vanilla kisses and giggling on the way to the bedroom.
So, what was Rhea writing? How raunchy was it? Would it tell Paige anything about her wife’s desires?
What burned her wasn’t Rhea having a personal outlet for herself. Paige had her own, didn’t she?I merely want to know what’s going on in her head.
“Is there a reason you don’t want to share, Rhea?” the therapist asked.
A shrug only irritated Paige more. “If I had it my way, she wouldn’t know about it at all. I like having a safe space where I can let out whatever’s in my head. Like purging my deepest thoughts.”
“I like getting to know you better,” Paige said to her wife. “It’s like finding out you have a new favorite restaurant you love going to, but you won’t tell me what it is.”
“Those two things are alittledifferent.” Rhea put her finger and thumb into position.
“Okay.”
The therapist looked between them. “What about your wife’s hobby interests you so much?” Dr. Seville asked. “How do you think it could help you connect more as a couple?”
“Well… if she shared something with me… maybe I’d know what she likes in the bedroom. Besides what I already know, I mean.”
“What do you think about that response, Rhea?”
Another shrug. “I don’t think she would glean much from it.”
“Are you afraid she might judge you for its contents?”
Finally, something set Rhea off balance. “It is pretty intense. That’s the whole point. It’s stuff I can’t put in my regular novels. Stuff that doesn’t even belong there in the same context. Like I said. It’s an outlet.”
