No. Not happening. For the first time in years, I’ve felt drawn to a woman. So much that I can’t stop thinking about her.
A knock at the door. Two sharp taps.
I take a breath, not rushing. I walk over and open the door like I expect a girl scout selling cookies.
When I open it, Annika stands there, bag on her shoulder, hair pulled back, and a composed expression.
Too composed. Like she had to build up a wall on the way over.
“Hi,” she says, nervous.
“Hey.”
We just stare at each other for a second, not knowing who should speak first.
She exhales, “I’m sorry.”
Well, that’s the last thing I expected.
“For what?” I ask.
“For trying to drop you as a client,” she says while fiddling with her keychain. “If you think you still need sessions…then we continue.”
I grab the doorframe with two hands, and a devilish grin on my face. “You’re taking me back?”
“I never actually dropped you,” she says quickly. “I just…”
“Ran. Hid.”
Her lips press together. “I set a boundary.”
“Mm-hmmm.”
“Are you going to let me in or are we doing this out here on your front porch?”
I step aside. “Come in.”
She walks past me, that same controlled energy back in place as she takes a quick glance at my space. “You cleaned.”
“I always clean.”
She raises a brow, not convinced.
“Okay, my niece cleaned. I straightened up.”
She almost smiles. Almost.
“So,” I say, closing the door. “Are we back to being professional?”
“Yes.”
“Strictly?” I ask.
“I think it would be best not to confuse the matter.”
“Good,” I pause. “Because that worked out well.”
She exhales through her nose, but there’s a trace of something lighter in it. “You played great.”
