The lens of sex.
She was the shrink who was the sex toy mogul’s lover.
Even though she was so much more to him. She was everything.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Seemingly Impossible
“I’m very flattered with the offer, Denis. I truly am. But I want you to know what’s been going on here. I don’t want you to get into a situation unaware,” she said, talking to her French colleague early one morning from the comfort of the small kitchen in her apartment. She was brewing coffee before she headed into the office for one appointment. That’s all she had. Shayla. But damn it, she was going to do her best to help a loyal patient. Step one of rebuilding, as Davis had said. In the end, politics was politics. Sometimes the bad guy wins. Sometimes there’s nothing you can do to blunt the damage. You take your blows, and you pick yourself back up. That’s what she was doing.
“I heard some silly chatter about your private life, and I chose to ignore it. I do not judge people by what they do in private. I don’t care what you do behind closed doors,” he said, as she watched the coffee drip into the pot. She wished she could reach across the ocean and hug the man for saying the first evolved thing she’d heard in a long while.
“I appreciate it. But I want to make sure it’s not going to be a problem,” she said, and shared a few more details of all that had gone down.
He paused, and clucked his tongue. She tensed, sure this was the moment when he would rescind his offer. Besides, she didn’t even know if she’d take it. “You were cleared by the ethics board?”
“Yes.” She had Jack to thank for that. The graying man in charge had called her earlier in the week to tell her Jack’s willingness to show up without having been asked, to share all the details, and to take ownership of their relationship had made the decision easy. Even Nick’s attempts to discredit her with the board through spurious claims hadn’t worked, given his persona as a fake client. She took some small measure of victory that she’d won that battle against Clark Davidson, though she was most decidedly losing the war.
“That is all I need to know on the matter,” Denis said. “The offer stands. We would like you to come work with our practice. We need someone like you.”
“I will think about it and get back to you.”
She hung up, drank her coffee, and met Shayla for a session. But when the session ended, she had nothing to do but twirl in her chair. Twiddle her thumbs. Stare at a blank calendar on her screen.
If this is what reinvention looked liked, it stunk. Ten years of an impeccable reputation, ten years of working her ass off and building relationships with colleagues had led to this—Michelle had nothing to do.
She grabbed her phone and called Sutton.
“I’m bored. Can you get a coffee with me?”
Sutton laughed. “Darling, I have a casting call in an hour. But it’s across town. Meet me on the corner of Lexington and Fiftieth and we’ll walk together.”
At least it was something to occupy the time.
“See you in fifteen minutes,” she said. Because she had nothing else to do.
With her dark hair pinned neatly in a French twist, and a pair of brown leather boots for fall, Sutton looked crisp and gorgeous when Michelle spotted her resting against the street sign, tapping away on her phone. Sutton slipped her phone into her shoulder bag and wrapped her in a hug, then pointed to the crosswalk. They began their march across town, and Michelle told her everything about the job offer.
“Should I take it?”
“It does sound like a great job,” Sutton said as they walked past noontime crowds scurrying around the city.
“I know,” she said with a sigh. “So, tell me the truth. How badly do you miss Reeve when he’s on a shoot?”
“Terribly,” Sutton said with a pained sound in her voice. But then she softened. “Except, it’s lessened because I know he’s coming back. If you take the job, it won’t just be for a few weeks here and there. You’d be gone. You’d be living there, and he’d be living here.”
Michelle nodded. Her heart felt so damn heavy. “That’s the issue, isn’t it?”
Sutton stopped at the corner, and placed her hands on Michelle’s shoulders. “You love your job. You’re going through a rough patch right now. But the question is—which will you regret more? Will you look at him every day and see him as the man who took your career away?”
“No!” Michelle said quickly, taken aback.
Sutton shook her head. “I don’t mean like that. I know it’s not his fault. But if you don’t take this job, what will it do to your relationship with him? Will he simply become the man who got in the way of you taking another step in your career? Will you look at him and see only the lost opportunity?”
Michelle gulped, wishing her words didn’t sound so damn insightful. “Are you the shrink now?”
Sutton laughed as they crossed the street at the green light. “I’ve just spent enough time with you to be able to see all these sides. And hell, I suppose you could try to make it work. Have a go of it. Be a Paris-New York couple. You wouldn’t be the first, you won’t be the last,” she said, then tipped her chin down the street. “I’ve got to run.”
She planted a kiss on Michelle’s cheek, and took off for her casting call.
Michelle stood in place on the corner of Fiftieth and Broadway, watching her friend march with a purpose down the street, her silhouette mingling with a sea of other New Yorkers, all coming and going, heading in and out of revolving doors, to work, to meetings, to lunch.