Broken Juliet(64)

His whole body seizes as he digs his hands into his thighs. Then he closes his eyes and leans his elbows on his knees as he scrubs his face.

“You tease me with mental images you know I have zero defense against. Does ‘three year dry spell’ mean nothing to you, woman? I’m working with a very short fuse here.”

“I’ve seen your fuse. It’s really not short.”

He makes a noise and strides into my bathroom. “Wait here. This won’t take long.”

I laugh as he slams the door.

Approximately three minutes later, he’s back. He sits on the couch as I finish packing up.

“So, how are you liking Dr. Kate?” he asks, taking our conversation back to being G-rated.

“She’s great. Although, it’s a bit weird calling her Dr. Kate. I kind of feel like she should have her own talk show, like Dr. Drew.”

“Yeah, but unlike Dr. Drew, Kate is her last name.”

I stop and turn to him. “I thought it was her first name.”

“It is.”

“But … that would mean her name is—”

“Kate Kate. Yep, she married some big property developer. William Kate.”

“Huh. I guess it would be the same thing if I married Taylor Swift. She’d be Taylor Taylor.”

His eyes glaze over. “Uh, so let’s run with that idea. What would that wedding night be like?”

I slap his leg.

“No, seriously,” he says and sits forward. “I really want to know. Start from where you kiss passionately and remove each other’s clothing.”

I laugh and continue packing up.

He watches me in silence for a few minutes, then says, “So, if you and I got married, would you take my name? Or would you expect me to be Ethan Taylor-Holt?”

And just like that, all the blood drains from my face.

He laughs. “Cassie, relax. I’m not asking you to marry me.”

“Oh. Okay.” My lungs start working again.

He gives me a half smile. “Yet.”




I settle into the oversize leather chair as Dr. Kate crosses her legs. She looks like she belongs in an advertisement for sexy horn-rimmed glasses. All perfect blondness and designer shoes.

“Hi, Cassie. How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

Dr. Kate gives me a look. I’m not supposed to resort to meaningless automated responses. I’m supposed to describe my feelings as honestly as possible. Identify and confront.

“Um … okay, I’m … nervous. Conflicted. A little nauseated.”

“Uh-huh.” My self-awareness is rewarded with a smile. “How’s the show?”

“Good, I guess. Previews have been well received. The buzz around town is positive.”

“Opening night is tonight, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“What are your expectations?”

“I’ll make myself sick with nerves. Then I’ll do some focusing exercises and try to convince myself I can transform into someone else so completely, my rampant insecurities will be all but invisible.”

She gives me a real smile this time. “Well, that sounds exhausting. How’s Ethan?”

“Irritatingly patient. Understanding. Perfectly calm. About us, anyway. Nervous about the show, of course.”

“It sounds like his patience frustrates you.”

“It does. He makes it look so freaking easy.”

“I’m sure it’s not, but he’s been working on it for a long time. This is only your fifth session. I think you’re doing remarkably well.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I’m impressed with how you’re embracing this process.”

“I want to get better.”

“I know. And that’s a fantastic platform upon which to build your recovery.”




I smooth down my skirt for the tenth time. It doesn’t ease my tension. Dr. Kate waits patiently. She knows I’ll start when I’m ready.

“So,” I say, “I dreamed about him again last night. How he used to be. I can see so many parallels to how he was back then to how I am now.”

“How do you see yourself now?”

“Guarded. Desperate to protect myself.”

“Was there a time when you felt you were successful in protecting yourself?”

“After our first breakup, yes. For a while.”

She writes something in her book before looking at me again. “If you were to conjure a mental image of yourself from that time, what would it be?”

I think for a few seconds. “The first time he broke my heart, I tried to make myself into a fortress. A castle with high, impenetrable walls.”

“And what was Ethan in this scenario?”

“He was this … irresistible force, and no matter how high I built my walls, he still managed to find a way in.”

“So you fought to keep him out.”

“Every single day.”

“And when you embarked on a sexual relationship with him again, that became more difficult?”

“Yes.” A thousand times, yes.

“In your analogy, you tried to be impenetrable. What changed?”

Everything.