The tiny numbers on the spreadsheet blurred as Daniel’s eyelids drooped. He alt-tabbed back to the Microsoft Word window that had lurked in the background—blank—all day. The cursor blinked, a slow-ticking clock for Daniel’s frustration.

He sucked in a deep breath and forced confidence into uncertain fingers as they hovered over the keys. “Chapter 1.” They stopped, uninspired.

He forced his fingers into action. “Talking with Your Partner.”

The cursor blinked on, and his mind remained as blank as the screen. He punched at the delete key, and it swallowed up more minutes of fruitless thinking.

“Your Successful Marriage.” His impatient index finger quivered, awaiting instructions. Inspiration. Anything.

“Since No Secrets hit the shelves, I have spoken with thousands of people about the benefits of being honest . . .” His fingers slowed. He was boring even himself.

With a sweep of his mouse, he deleted yet another opening paragraph that didn’t deserve its place on the page. The cursor blinked on.

Daniel yawned as he stretched, looking at the pile of books stacked on his office desk. The second book—the one his contract demanded—had started as an impossibility and had since become even harder. He stared out the window at his car in the darkened, almost-empty parking lot.

Maybe Anna’s experience could provide inspiration. At least she would know where to start.

A light tap sounded from his doorway. Daniel spun to see his receptionist leaning against the door, a half smile dangling from those ruby-red lips.

“Monique, shouldn’t you have gone home by now?”

“You said you were working late. Do you need anything from me?”

A blaring alarm went off in Daniel’s head. The scenario he’d warned hundreds of couples about for years unfolded in front of him.

“No, but thanks for offering.”

“I’m more than happy to stay if you need me. You spend so much time helping other people, I thought you’d appreciate help for a change.”

“No, that’s fine—”

She rushed to sit on the edge of his sofa, crossing long legs just feet from him. “Could I ask a question? For a friend?”

Daniel smirked. That old chestnut. He’d counseled more “friends” in his office than actual clients.

“Sure! For a ‘friend.’”

Monique seemed to measure her words as she stared at the carpet. “This friend of mine is struggling to keep her head above water in life and feels like she needs to hide who she is.” She looked up under slowly batting lashes.

Maybe he could help. Daniel laced his fingers behind his head. “I’d suggest your friend talk to someone. There’s no point keeping secrets if they aren’t helpful in the long run.”

“She just wants to be noticed by the right people. The right person.” Her eyes drifted to the flash of gold on his cuff, and the corners of her mouth tugged into a grin.