“It’s a pity, then, that I just risked my life to get you to court on time, because now you owe me one. And I’m cashing in right now. You’re going to listen to what Tegan has to say about her father, whether you like it or not. Then we’ll be square.” Before I can protest, he adds, “And I agree I shouldn’t be your therapist. But Tegan reached out to me, and I promised her I would talk to you, so that’s what we’re going to do. Then, I’m going to refer you both to a family specialist. But now’s not the time. You have an appointment, and I need to take a shower. I hadn’t planned for an impromptu mountain-climbing training session in the middle of my morning. Once again, a nice day to you, and please don’t come knocking on my door for at least another week.”

With that, he storms across the landing, looking not half bad with his tousled hair, dress-shirt messily hanging out of his pants, rolled-up sleeves, and bare feet. The bossy attitude is kind of hot, too. If Shrek wasn’t the horrible man-ogre he is, I could even—

I censor the thought before it can take shape in my head.

Instead, I call after him, “You tore your—”

“I know,” he snaps, stopping at his door. “I’m not sure if you’re costing me more in emotional damages or sartorial bills.”

He picks up the book from the floor and disappears inside his office.

Fourteen

Lucas

On Saturday night, I arrive at the restaurant at eight on the dot. I give the hostess my fake name, and with a bright smile she guides me to my table, saying, “Please follow me, Mr. Ewing, your date is already here.”

As we meander through the restaurant’s tables, I have to confess I’m nervous. Especially when I spot a woman with strawberry blonde hair sitting alone at a table toward the rear of the room, her back turned to us. I still can’t believe I agreed to a blind date. The few times I’ve tried one of those in the past, before Brenda, they all resulted in fiascos.

But tonight, if nothing else, I’m sure the worst highlight of the week is behind me. I mean, what could be worse than hanging from a fire escape a handgrip away from certain death and with my butt showing? Talk about adding insult to injury. The reminiscence triggers another, even less welcome memory: one of long legs and lacy pink underwear.