But she hasn’t. So at her last appointment, Dr. Egan suggested a tactic she hadn’t expected. Therapy. He thinks she should consider that there might be something else going on, something inside her head. Women fail to get pregnant and miscarry for no obvious medical reasons, he explained. Stress plays a big factor in spontaneous abortion. So does PTSD.

Dr. Egan knows that she was in the car when Judy died. He also knows that she hasn’t talked to anyone about the tragedy since her few therapy sessions right after the accident.

“I think we should do what the doctor suggested. We should see a therapist,” Mark announces.

Joy shakes her head. No therapy, and definitely not with Mark.

Judy’s death will come up. The therapist will make her pick apart that night in front of Mark. What if she slips and blurts the truth?

If she tells him, she’ll have to tell her parents, which means she’ll tell them everything. She’s been living a lie.

“You don’t want to do therapy? Would you at least talk about it with your parents then? I could mention something to them, if that helps. Do you want me to fly your mom out?”

“No, I—” She stalls, unsure how to explain or if she can.

“Joy, I’m going to take a leap here. I’ve respected your choice not to talk about your sister, but I think you should. You lost her and it hurt. You’re still hurting.”

“You don’t know a thing about how I feel.” She wants to leave the room. She tugs her hands.

Mark’s grasp tightens. “You’re right, I don’t. Listen to me. I’m trying to help. You don’t talk about her. It’s like she never existed.”

“That’s not true,” she whispers, an ache in her voice. Another tear falls. She thinks of Judy every time she tests a new tube of lipstick or walks around Manhattan while wishing she had her own line of skincare products and lived in Manhattan Beach.

“I love you, Joy, but I think keeping her bottled up inside is affecting you in other ways. It’s affecting us. If you can’t talk to me or your mom, then find a professional you can talk to. Until then, we should stop trying for a baby.”

He croaks the words and she knows that they were difficult to say out loud. He comes from a large family that’s as close-knit as the threads in his shirt. He’s wanted children since the beginning of their relationship. He didn’t come to this decision lightly.

She feels horrible that she’s the cause.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Therapy?” he clarifies. She nods and he gives her hands a squeeze of encouragement. “Thank you.”