“That could be said about a lot of things though, right?”

He raised an eyebrow in question. “What do you mean?”

“Well, no one wants to have to deal with the problems that get in the way of our everyday lives, but yet it’s part of everyday life, right?”

“True.”

“You just have to think about it as another problem to solve. Because that’s what you like doing. You like finding the clues. Putting them together until you reach the answer, right?”

“Yes,” he said with a small smile. She was getting him.

“Look at this the same way. Don’t look at it as getting involved in something seedy, like politics. Look at it as a—” She stopped, stared at the ceiling as if she were hunting for the right word, then continued, “—as if a new vibrator was stimulating the labia rather than the clitoris, and you have to fix it.”

He laughed so hard he had to grab her hips so she wouldn’t fall off him from the chuckling. “I would never make a vibrator that stimulated the slit, not the clit,” he said, being deliberately crass, and it was her turn to laugh. “But that’s good advice. Just treat it as yet another challenge in the business day.”

“Exactly,” she said with a crisp nod, and it hit him. Like a blast of light blaring through the room at dawn.

“You just gave me advice,” he said, kind of awestruck. “Like a shrink.” He quirked up his lips.

“That’s what I do,” she said playfully.

And it didn’t bother me. And I was able to talk to you.

“Sometimes, I can’t help myself,” she added.

“I liked it,” he said, and he wondered what it would have been like if he hadn’t met her at The Pierson. If he’d simply shown up for his appointment two weeks ago. He was quiet for a moment, drifting off to that notion.

“Are you thinking about what it would be like if we were working together? In therapy?” she asked in a soft, quiet voice.

“Are you a mind reader?”

She smiled. “I am, actually. It was part of my coursework. I’m certified not only in intimate relationship psychology but also in mind reading. As well as tarot. Shall I read your cards?”

“Oh, please do. Though I’d honestly feel a tad better if you relied on an 8-Ball. Are you certified in that too?”

She mimed shaking an 8-Ball. “What would you like to ask it?”

He stroked his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. But when he spoke, the question was borderline serious. “Would Michelle still have been attracted to me if we first met at her office?”

Her lips parted as if she were taken aback by the question. Then she peered at the pretend glass window in the makeshift 8-Ball. “Without a doubt,” she said, and he watched her. The way she swallowed as if nervous. How her eyes stayed fixed on him. The clarity with which she spoke.