Emily didn’t trust Chris, not after the way he’d initially reacted, not after the hours Tessa had spent in her office in tears. He’d seemed self-absorbed, not understanding what a pregnancy would mean for Tessa, not fully accepting his part in it. If Emily were Tessa’s friend, she would’ve had some choice words to say about Chris. But as her therapist, she kept her mouth shut and helped Tessa with her side of the relationship, figuring out what she needed and how to communicate that. Something had worked, because Chris had come through in the end.

Tessa smiled again. “I’m glad, too.” She laughed. “And happy I ran into you. But now it’s time for Statistics for Social Research.”

“Oof,” Emily said. “You didn’t give yourself a break with that one.”

Tessa shrugged. “I figure it’ll help with law school.”

Tessa’s dream was to be a human rights lawyer. She wore socks with Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s face on them and had spent half a session once telling Emily about Amal Clooney’s life story. Emily had enjoyed hearing it.

Two students walked into the building and Emily recognized one of them as her nine a.m.

“I should go,” Emily said. “But I’m so glad to see you. Bring Zoe by some time.”

Tessa hiked up her backpack. “I will,” she said before she turned away.

Emily really hoped Tessa would be okay. When she’d come to the center last year, she’d been so petrified—of being pregnant, of telling her boyfriend, of telling her parents, of what this would mean for her life and her dreams and her future. Emily had helped her through all of it. She’d even gotten permission from the clinic’s director to see Tessa as a long-term case. It was why she’d taken this job. She wanted to be there for these kids, the way she wished someone had been there for her, back when she was in college—someone more than her sister, Arielle. Luckily, later she’d found Dr. West, who changed her life and changed her path. She wondered, sometimes, if Dr. West found the job as difficult as she did.

2

Before heading into her office, Emily filled her mug with herbal tea instead of coffee, something Arielle had said was better for fertility. Though the truth was, it was irrelevant. By this point, either she was already pregnant or she wasn’t. She and Ezra had been tracking her cycle since their second wedding anniversary, when they moved into their new place and he was finally ready to start trying. Tracking her cycles together with Ezra was one of the benefits of marrying a doctor—everything about the human body was up for discussion. That was his area of expertise, after all. Hers was the human mind.