His eyes were wide. He blinked once, then twice as the jet applied the brakes when the wheels touched the runway. He winced as he stared hard at his phone, scrolling slowly with his thumb. He shut his eyes, squeezed them tight, and it seemed as if he were wishing away what he was reading.

Wrapping a hand around his arm, she asked him if everything was okay. Before he could answer, her phone buzzed, coming alive again now that they were on the ground.

“No,” he whispered in a strangled voice.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and her phone buzzed again, then bleated loudly. She snapped her eyes to the screen out of habit. Davis. He never called her work phone.

A chill ran through her bones as she answered.

“Hello?”

“Are you okay?” he asked, and her heart seized up when she heard his voice. This was how he sounded the night he’d told her their parents had died. He was the one who had answered the door when the police officer knocked to deliver the news about the fatal accident on the icy road. He was the one who’d found her in her bedroom upstairs, listening to music, and turned off the radio to tell her. He was the one who had delayed college for a year to help her finish high school because they were suddenly all alone. Just the sound of his voice sent her back to that night, but she couldn’t figure out what the hell he could be calling about now. The worst had happened. There was no one left but them. Unless something had happened to Jill.

A lump rose up in her throat. “Is Jill okay?”

“Jill’s fine. You didn’t see the story, did you?”

“No. I just landed,” she said, her voice shaky. “What is it? Just tell me.”

“I’m waiting at baggage claim for you. It’s not good, Michelle.”

Shame spilled over in her waves as her mind raced through possibilities. Pictures of her and Jack in the perfume shop doorway, on the train, even at the Grand Colbert. Oh Lord, had her skirt blown up? Had someone seen that jewel in her ass?

But that would have been welcome compared to the story.

Jack handed her his phone, and wrapped an arm around her as she read. “None of it is true. We’ll fix it. I promise. I swear,” he said, kissing her forehead as the written words sliced through her, like sharp knives, chopping her career to tiny pieces.

Sex Toy Mogul Becomes Sex Therapist for Shrink

By Staff

Today we learned that a certain prominent psychologist’s couch folds out into a bed. And who’s the bedfellow for this *cough, cough* intimate relationship therapist? (Intimate indeed!)

None other than New York City’s most eligible bachelor. Jack Sex-Toy-Mogul Sullivan has been providing sex therapy for a sex therapist.

The psychologist, Michelle Milo, who heads up several prominent New York City professional organizations and supposedly counsels patients on all their intimate issues, didn’t wait long to pounce on her celebrity patient. (Can’t blame you, Dr. Milo, he’s a hottie!) They’ve been playing sexual healing games since he began seeing her to mend his broken heart. Hell, did she ever do a bang-up job! You may recall they were spotted at dinner and at the symphony, and we’ve learned their relationship didn’t start with such innocent dates. It began in the most forbidden way! Scandalous!