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“Can I say I’m happy to hear that, without you accusing me of wanting you to marry him?”
She smiled and had the grace to look embarrassed. “Yeah, and sorry about that, too.”
“It’s alright, Ro
“Trust you to find a witch for a counselor, but if you can do therapy, I guess it’s not too late for the rest of us.”
“I was talking to Maria
“You’re saying that you went to therapy by accident.”
I shrugged, squeezed her hands, and got up. Please, God, let some of the coffee still be warm.
“So you went to therapy by accident. You became the lover of the Master of the City, kicking and screaming that you wouldn’t do it. Now you’ve fallen into one, or is it two ménage а trois, when your goal in life was monogamous marriage.”
The French press was cold, but the coffeemaker was not. Yeah.
“That about sums it up,” I said.
“And my goal was to never tie myself down to any one person and never to marry. Now here we are, each getting what the other one thought she wanted.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself, so I didn’t try. I’d never gotten the impression that God had a sadistic sense of irony, but someone sure did. Was there an angel in charge of relationships? If so, that particular winged messenger of deity had a lot to answer for.
I got that tiny pulse in my head that I sometimes got when I prayed.
It was more feeling than words. Be happy, just be happy. Easy to say, so very hard to do.