It might take hours, days, sometimes even weeks, but she knew how to give him his space when he needed it. And she could usually comfort him when he was finally ready to talk. She could read people like she could read music, feeling the emotion between the notes, the way to tease the meaning from the melody with her fingers. She wondered, sometimes, if Ezra’d had to marry a therapist, if someone who hadn’t been trained in psychology could’ve made a relationship work with him.

“Thank you,” he said, and kissed her again.

“How about I come get you at the end of the day?” she asked. “Maybe we can walk home? Stop for dinner on the way?”

“Lady’s choice,” he told her. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She wove her fingers through his. “You have to head back now?”

“Now that I’m fortified, I’ll be able to handle it all.”

“Good.” She knew this wouldn’t be the end of it, but it was what he needed now, and she was happy to give it to him.

They kissed one last time, and Ezra left Emily’s office. She stood at her second-floor window to watch him appear below her on Broadway, hailing a yellow cab amid the traffic and jumping inside. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe that she and Ezra were married—that this beautiful, brilliant, broken man brought her more happiness than she’d felt in more than a decade. It made her strive to be better, to make sure she was a woman worthy of a man like that.

—

Arielle had argued with Emily when she told her, three years ago, that she was going to take Ezra’s last name.

“But you’ve got a doctorate,” Ari said. “You’re one of the authors on a clinical study.” Arielle had been particularly proud of her sister’s byline on that paper.

“You took Jack’s name,” Emily said. “Mom took Dad’s. I don’t see the problem.”

“But I’m staying home with my kids,” Ari said. “You’re different.”

“I’m not,” Emily protested. But that wasn’t the real reason she wanted to take his name. She didn’t feel like Emily Solomon anymore; she wasn’t who she used to be. Without music, with Ezra—she was someone new. And changing her name to Emily Gold—it felt right. It felt like she was taking ownership of the person she’d become.

—

Another student appeared in Emily’s door frame. Emily looked up at her. Someone new.

“Come in,” she said.

The girl sat down and looked at the fish tank.

“Is that a betta?” she asked.

“It is,” Emily answered. “I’m Dr. Gold.”

“I know,” the girl said. “I’m Callie.”

And they talked about fish until it was time for more serious matters.

iii

Your father taught me to play guitar.