Michelle felt as if she’d been walloped. Smacked with a pillowcase full of bricks. She nodded curtly, accepting all that Shayla had dropped in her lap. Lines were being crossed left and right, up and down, as her personal and professional life collided in an unexpected zigzag. She’d counseled patients through emotional crises, through breakdowns, through divorce, death and love unreturned. But knowing what to say next and how to handle Shayla’s TMI about her was one of the toughest challenges she’d ever faced.

She latched onto Carla’s words about refocusing the patient. She flashed back to all her coursework on how to manage over-interest in the therapist. But this was such a messy stew.

Even so, she had to wade through it. Step by step. First, address the issue professionally.

“I take it you’re referring to the Page Six item over the weekend about the man that I’m dating?” she asked, deliberately not using his name. A patient didn’t need to refer to her lover by his name, after all.

“Well. Yeah. And that picture of you guys dancing at Lincoln Center that showed up this morning on Page Six.”

That was news to her.

Michelle dug her fingers into her palms, and told herself it was all going to be fine. She’d been in sessions all day and prepping for Paris. She hadn’t been online, and hadn’t checked her work or her personal email either. And while she felt a small ounce of relief that the photo that had appeared was one of them dancing outside, rather than of them inside on the balcony, she was still bothered that the gossip rags were following them at all. Weren’t there far more interesting people to photograph than her and Jack, even if he’d been deemed New York’s most eligible bachelor?

“And does it bother you to see my photo online?” Michelle managed to ask, concentrating on her client, not on her own reaction to being in the tabloids.

“It’s weird,” Shayla said loudly. “It’s completely bizarre. Honestly, I’ve always thought of you as a blank slate. Someone who existed in the little framework of this office.” She gestured to the four walls.

“And now you realize I’m both a therapist and a human being.”

Shayla nodded. “Yep.”

Michelle took a breath, clasped her hands, and addressed the elephant in the room once more. “So, here’s the deal. I’m a human being. I date. I see plays and movies. I have a brother, and I have good friends. I like to go out to dinner. I like to try new restaurants. I enjoy fall in New York City, and I’d like to have a dog someday. There you go. That’s me. I’m not a blank slate. I’ve never been a blank slate,” she said, pausing to gauge Shayla’s reaction. Her client’s eyes were fixed firmly on Michelle. Good. “But the time we spend together is not about me. It’s about you. And I’m not going to address any specifics of my dating life. I do, however, want to keep working with you and helping you sort out the matters that are most important to you,” she said, her voice clear and direct. This was how things would be done. Take it or leave it. “Can you keep doing that?”