“Maybe not, but your daughter would still want to know who her father is, and you’d still be doing your best to pretend the topic is a non-issue while it matters a great deal to Tegan.”

We stand on our respective sides of the desk, glaring at each other. This exchange is getting way too confrontational. I need to restore the calm so we can continue the discussion in civil tones.

I struggle not to flare my nostrils and put my hands forward in what I hope is perceived as a calming gesture. “Just to be clear, I’m not accusing you of anything, or implying you did something wrong.”

“Really? Because you’re coming across as an awful lot judgmental right now.”

“Sorry, that’s not my intention.”

“What do you want from me, then?”

“Tegan has expressed a serious interior struggle about not knowing where half of her comes from, one that might fall in a blind spot for you because of your own”—I put my hands forward again to show this is not a critique—“feelings toward the man in question. I’m sure you have valid reasons for not wanting to expose Tegan to this man. To protect your daughter from someone you’re certain would only bring her more pain. Was he…” I don’t know how to phrase this. “… a violent man?”

Medusa’s eyes widen. “Gosh, no. Nothing like that. Just a selfish prick.”

We stare at each other for the longest time, and I swear my breath was more even at the end of my eight-mile run earlier this morning.

The tension breaks when my phone rings, piercing the loaded silence.

I take it out of my briefcase and check the ID: Listen to Your Heart.

Yeah, right. Just what I need now, a call from my damn Dating Specialist. I silence the phone and put it on “do not disturb.”

“Sorry,” I apologize to Medusa. “I usually turn it off before a session, but this wasn’t exactly planned.”

Vivian waves me off in an it’s okay way, just as my landline rings.

“Sorry,” I repeat. “This line is for emergencies; a client might need me. Do you mind if I pick up?”

“Go ahead,” she says, still a little stiff.

“Hello,” I say into the receiver.

“Good morning, Dr. Keller, this is Jennifer, your Dating Specialist from Listen to Your Heart.”

I pinch my nose; the woman is a Rottweiler. “Morning, Jennifer,” I reply, annoyed. “I stated in my questionnaire this number was for emergencies only.”

“Well, Dr. Keller, your dating life is an emergency.”

And from the little smirk now tugging at Medusa’s lips, it’s obvious she can hear both sides of the conversation.

“This isn’t a good moment. Can I call you back?”

“Are you in session?”

“Not exactly, but—”