I stop. I feel pathetic even saying that out loud. I don’t want Christian to think that our work together has been a complete waste of time, that I don’t get that I am responsible for my own actions, feelings and thoughts. I do—now—but it doesn’t take away the fact that, deep down, I have to admit to myself that I always wanted what she had.

I believed that Nina had it all: a family (and no question about whether or not to keep her first baby), work she adored, a life partner I assumed she loved, too. I really did believe that the grass was greener. Now, here I am. And it’s not nearly as green as I imagined. I try to explain it differently.

“When I was with Ben,” I say, “I always carried with me a sense of feeling like the outsider looking in. I especially hated bank holidays, all those families crowded everywhere having fun.”

We both laugh.

“If we were out having lunch, I’d stare at my plate of olives, artisan bread or whatever, and I never fully appreciated what a luxury it was because I wanted to be with the other people, the ones who were having a nicer time than me. I assumed that they were the ones who had got it right, who understood life’s rules. I truly had no idea, did I? I was wrong.”

Christian smiles in understanding.

“I thought I’d be happy, that I had one chance to grab at life and everything would slot into place, that it would all suddenly make sense...yet it hasn’t happened that way.” I take a deep breath. If I’m in the mood for being honest, I may as well continue. “I wanted a baby to replace the one I didn’t have, plus the future family I didn’t have with Charlie.”

“It’s normal to mourn a loss,” he says. “You made the right choices for you at the time.”

“A friend of mine died recently in horrible circumstances,” I blurt out.

I drop tiny hints at my guilt at falling out with him not long before his death. It’s tempting fate (a tiny bit) but I trust Christian to keep anything he guesses to himself. From my patchy online research—I’m cautious with my searches—it seems that therapists don’t have a legal duty to report a crime; it’s an ethical decision based on their beliefs. I think Greg would approve of these small clues. He loved figuring out if the bad guy was going to get caught.

My mind flits. I want to get everything off my chest. I have a feeling that it’s time to say goodbye to Christian for good.

“I’m trapped,” I say. “By my own choices.”

“You do have options, Marie,” he says gently.

I nod as if I do. “I know,” I lie. “Thank you.”

When it’s time to say goodbye, I want to tell him how sorry I am that there are some people who are beyond help and that I am one of them. Christian is one of the good guys, he tried his best with me. I’m going to miss him and his understated wisdom.