Page 38 of Homewrecker

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Happy?”

His finger traced the edge of his water glass. “They almost divorced when I was in college, but thankfully they didn’t. They had to learn each other again.”

“Did that make you want to fix people?”

“No. I don’t think people need fixing.”

I looked at him. “What do they need?”

“Depends.”

“That’s a psychologist answer.”

“It is.”

I smiled. “Sometimes they need tools. Sometimes language. Sometimes accountability. Sometimes they need someone to tell them the truth without making them feel like the worst thing they’ve ever done is the only thing they’ve ever done.”

I looked across the room. My chest felt tight all of a sudden. The worst thing I’d ever done… Three years. One married man. One woman I’d never met until her life exploded. One decision that became a hundred decisions and then a thousand.

I wasn’t supposed to be sitting across from an attractive psychologist feeling seen by a sentence that had nothing to do with me.

“You okay?”

I looked back. “I’m fine.”

He nodded and let me lie.

The bell rang and I almost jumped.

Nash glanced toward it. “Well.”

“Well.”

He stood. I expected him to say it had been nice meeting me.

Instead, he asked, “Can I give you my number?”

My brows lifted. “That confident?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I just know seven minutes wasn’t enough time.”

I stared at him. “Fine.”

He took out his phone. I gave him my number and he called it.

My phone buzzed.

“Nash,” I said, reading after I entered it.

“That’s me.”