I lean back, processing what she said. Maybe it’s not the nightmare that scares me, then. If I don’t remember it but still had it without waking up terrified, does that mean it’s still an issue?

“I guess it’s more that I don’t want it to be a fluke.”

I see from the shift in her gaze that I hit the nail on the head. “And also the fact that there are some variables that are different.”

“Like I was sleeping in his bed, surrounded by all his things.”

“In a world you gave up,” she adds on.

Therapy is not always fun. “Which I have struggled with.”

She rests her forearms on her knees. “Let’s use this time to think about it, Jessica. If you want to meet Grayson tonight and let go of it all, then you should. If you want to run away and marry him, then that’s your choice. I just want you to be self-aware enough to know why you’re choosing what you are. Is it because, when he’s around, you feel safe? And if you only feel safe with Grayson, why? There is no right or wrong answer, just the truth.”

I look up at her, my heart pounding. “The truth is that I love him and I feel safe with him because he doesn’t want to hurt me.”

“That’s good.”

“I want to meet him tonight because I can’t imagine not having whatever parts of himself he’s willing to share.”

Dr. Warvel sits tall and crosses her legs at the ankle. “And the question is, are either of you really giving up or are you sharing with the other as a gift?”

I’ve washed, scrubbed, and shaved every part that needed some TLC. After leaving therapy, I felt good. I know what my limits are and what I need to do to continue being honest with myself and also what Grayson is asking us to do.

We’re not going to be serious. This is two people who have feelings for each other but also know the outcome. At least, that’s what I think it is.

Dr. Warvel suggested we talk about it to set the boundaries and expectations.

I just really want him naked.

However, she’s right, and so, I’m standing in my room an hour before he’s supposed to pick me up—with a long text unsent.

Me: I know what we’re doing is very adult, but there’s still a girl inside me who will always think of you differently. I want to make sure that when we do this very adult thing (which I really want to do) that neither of us thinks it means something more or less to the other. So, this is me, asking you . . . what does this mean?

I hover over the send button. Talking myself in and out of it on repeat.