“Fine.” I slumped back in my chair. “Yes. I slept with him. It was—” I searched for the right words. “Not the smartest.”
“Not the smartest,” Dr. Carlisle repeated.
“In terms of timing.”
“And in terms of feelings?”
I stared at the ceiling. There was a water stain in the corner that looked vaguely like a horse. Or maybe a cloud. Or maybe my entire life falling apart.
“I don’t know what I feel,” I said. “Everything’s happening at once. The money, the ranch, Taylor, the?—”
“Graham.”
“—photographers. I was going to say photographers.”
Dr. Carlisle gave me the look. The one that said she’d been doing this for twenty years and I wasn’t fooling anyone.
“Let’s talk about Graham,” she said.
“Let’s not.”
“Rose.”
“He thinks Denise is behind everything.” The words came out before I could stop them. “He keeps looking at her like she’s a suspect.”
“And you don’t think she is.”
“She’s been my friend for years. She’s the only person who—” I stopped.
“Who what?”
“Who stayed.” My voice came out smaller than I wanted. “Everyone leaves. My parents died. Patrick and Theresa are in California. My brothers have their own lives. But Denise stayed. She’s been here through everything.”
Dr. Carlisle was quiet for a moment. “And Graham hasn’t stayed.”
“Graham’s known me for three weeks. That’s not staying. That’s... visiting.”
“Visiting with strong opinions about your best friend.”
“Exactly.” I sat up straighter. “He doesn’t get to waltz into my life and tell me who to trust. He lied to me about who he was. He’s the reason there are photographers outside my house. And now he wants me to believe that Denise, loyal, reliable Denise, is somehow the villain?”
“What if he’s right?”
The question felt like cold water.
“He’s not.”
“But what if he is?”
“Then I’m an idiot who can’t tell the difference between people who care about me and people who are using me.” I laughed, and it came out bitter. “Which, honestly, seems about right given my track record.”
Dr. Carlisle set down her pen. This was her serious face. I’d seen it before, usually right before she said something I didn’t want to hear.
“Rose, I want you to consider something.”
“I’m going to hate this, aren’t I?”
“Probably.” She leaned forward. “Right now, you’re facing the potential loss of everything you’ve built. Your home. Your business. Your horses. Your financial security. This is a genuine crisis, the kind that requires all of your focus and energy to survive.”
