He keeps guiding me through some relaxation techniques, and I try to follow his instructions, but honestly, I’m more distracted by the deep sound of his voice, the way his lips move, the touch of his hands on my arms… And why do his eyes have to be so blue?

And shouldn’t this exercise make my breathing even? It’s getting more ragged by the minute—and the fast pace has nothing to do with anxiety.

Lucas must pick up on the weird vibe, because he lets me go and takes a step back, coughing out an embarrassed, “You good?”

“Yep,” I say, still a bit out of breath but at least no longer ridden with nerves. “All good here.”

I straighten my jacket and walk across the hall and into his office.

The moment I step in, Tegan barrels into me, hugging me tightly. “Thank you, Mom.”

I caress her hair like I used to do when she was little. “Shhh, it’s okay.” Emotions threaten to overwhelm me, but I don’t get the comfort of holding on to my daughter any longer because she lets go and bounces around the room, clapping her hands. “I’m finally going to meet my dad!”

Lucas, in the meantime, has followed me in and is back to sitting in his shrink chair. And for once, I give in and take a seat on the “patient” couch. Tegan flops next to me and I wrap one arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

“How is this going to work?” I ask Lucas.

Tegan answers instead. “We’re going to Boston. Dad has agreed to see me outside office hours so I won’t lose any more school days.”

A ball of acid explodes in my stomach, both at hearing Tegan call that man “Dad” so nonchalantly, and at learning they’ve already reached out to him without me being present.

I glare at Shrek, trying to stay calm. “You contacted him?”

Once again, Tegan answers. “It was my idea, Mom. And I didn’t tell him who I was; I just asked for an appointment. He thinks I’m a prospective student and has agreed to see me.”

With a strained smile plastered on my lips, I turn to her. “When?”

“Saturday, two weeks from now.”

Over-cheerfully, I say, “I guess we’re going to Boston, then.”

Tegan’s smile falters, and she throws a glance at Lucas and then back at me. “Actually…”

“Yes?” I ask. Whatever she’s going to say at this point can’t be any worse than the news she’s already dropped on me like a lead balloon.

“I’d rather go with Luke.”

I was wrong. Rejection hurts every single time. But I keep my features sculpted into a polite smile as I ask, “Why?”