“I just don’t think it’s necessary.”
“Why is that?”
“What does talking about anything ever change? Change comes from action, not talking.”
“History shows us that there needs to be a conversation first to come to an understanding and then there’s action.”
“I suppose it depends on how we choose to interpret history.”
“Perhaps.”
“I’ll give you an example. I barely saw my daughter the first year of her life. No matter how many reasonable conversations I had with her mother, damn near begging to see my child, she would arrange a visit and then cancel the plans at the last minute. Every month it was the same thing.”
“That sounds challenging. Why do you think she did that?”
He cocks his head to the side, and his eyes narrow.
“Are you blaming me?”
“Not at all. I’m asking why you think your child’s mother canceled on you.”
“I have no idea why Bella’s mother does the things that she does, and it took me a year to realize that talking things through with her doesn’t work.”
“So what did you do that worked differently?”
“I had my lawyer send her a letter, petitioning her to court. It turns out that official letters of any kind scare the hell out of her and she called me right away, desperately wanting us to figure out a solution that didn’t require getting the courts involved.”
“Is there a particular reason why she wanted to avoid court?”
“If I took her to court for a formal visitation agreement, then they’d also make a child support arrangement. I wire her way more money every month than the courts would ever require me to pay.”
“Oh, I see.”
“If I hadn’t sent her that letter, pushed her to action, I might not have the relationship I have with Bella today.”
“I understand what you’re saying and it makes total sense, but the kind of talking we’re going to do together is different. It’s about you. For you. It’s about making sense of what happened to you two weeks ago on Sunday so that you can continue with your career. Talking with me over the next few weeks is the actual action you need to take, Dak.”
“And what if I don’t want to talk about that day?”
“Then this is going to be a long six weeks.”
“We actually have four weeks left.”
“That’s right and then I have to submit my assessment,” I say, reminding him that he needs to think of this as more than a ticking time clock together.
“You’re different today,” he says as he slides his jacket off, laying it neatly on the arm of the sofa.
Good grief, those arms.
For a split second, I think about how strong those arms must be. How I bet he could easily lift me up and pound me senseless. Something my last boyfriend was incapable of doing because he was too small, too weak, and frankly, too vanilla to even try.
Nope, I’m Wonder Woman.
Wonder Woman doesn’t succumb to the wiles of an anatomically perfect man. She’s powerful all on her own. This man is my client. He needs me to help him even though he doesn’t realize it. What he doesn’t need are my dirty thoughts. That’s not helpful for either of us. Especially for these brand new black lace panties I’m wearing.
“How so?”
“I don’t know. Just different.”
