Sean pulled into the small parking lot nestled into a side street of Hollywood Boulevard he’d never noticed before. “I read that celebrities come here,” he said as they looked at the nondescript building.

Harper let out a laugh. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

He looked at her. “You’ll do great,” he said.

Sean opened the glass doors for her and they were greeted with what looked like a combination of a waiting room and the reception area to an upscale retirement home.

“Can I help you?” He couldn’t help but check the size of the woman who worked at the front desk. Sean didn’t know if most people who worked in eating disorder facilities were in treatment, but she looked healthy. Like she worked out, but not excessively. However, he could see how in a place like Los Angeles, she’d be told she had a pretty face, but should lose at least twenty pounds.

“I have an appointment. Harper—”

“Yes, I have you,” the woman said with a chirp. She glanced around at the people who lingered nearby. “We prioritize discretion here,” she said kindly. “So don’t worry about sharing your surname or any personal details in common areas.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Harper looked at him strangely.

“I told you they treat celebrities here,” he said.

“And are you her husband?” the woman asked.

“Uh, no.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Harper said. It was the first time she’d said it since they’d gotten back together, and it was so natural. Boyfriend. Like everything that had happened between them was perfectly necessary.

“I’m sorry, but only family members are allowed on the first day. Dr. Horst can arrange for future joint sessions if you’d like.”

“Oh. Okay,” Harper said. She gave him an apologetic look.

“It’s okay,” he said, though his heart sank. He’d spent the past three days amping himself up for this appointment. Sean had even researched what kind of support he’d be expected to survive on her road to management. “I’ll either go back home or find something around here to do. When will she be ready?” he asked.

“At least three hours.”

He watched as Harper flew through the paperwork and ticked off YES to a myriad of responses. At first, she angled the papers away from him. By the third page, she seemed to be checking the affirmative box for just about everything. Do you think your eating habits negatively impact your social life? Do you sometimes eat in secret? Do you sometimes eat to the point of pain, well beyond being full? Have you ever self-induced vomiting? Do you often choose the wrong, larger size, of clothes when shopping?

Sean wanted to ask her about it. Is this really what your life is like on a daily basis? But he knew just letting him see the responses was a huge step for her.

He looked around the waiting room and played a game. Patient or visitor? Sometimes it was obvious, but for the most part it wasn’t. There were men and women, all ages and sizes. Some clearly had money, or at least spent it, while others looked like they could have been waiting for the city bus.

The squeak of rubber shoes on the floors and the overtly plastic greenery were eerily familiar. So was the scent of industrial cleaner. All rehabilitation centers were the same at the core. He remembered his own admission, even through the haze of the worn-off alcohol. How the receptionist offered up the same, tight, toothless smile. How the cheap waiting room furniture looked more tired than any of the people who sunk into it, though the style suggested it was new.

Most of all, he remembered how he felt under the glare of those bright lights—so raw, like he was on display for the world to see. His first day had been raw and painful. There had been a thread of fear that ran through him like he’d never known before. Scared, not knowing what to expect, his own admission had been marinated in moments of sheer terror. But when he glanced at Harper’s face, she seemed calm and collected. Maybe that was the big difference. She’d chosen to come here, had probably torn it apart in her head a thousand times. Sean had been dragged. There had to be a huge difference between signing up for swimming lessons and when someone else pushed you into the deep end.

It hadn’t just been the drying out that had him on edge during his own rehab. It was the demand that he face his feelings instead of numbing them. How he’d been commanded to reach into the ugliest parts of himself and turn the pieces over and over.

“Well. I guess this is it.” Harper’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.

“You ready?” he asked as he stood up with her.

“As ready as I’m going to be,” she said with a shrug.

A nurse was paged to escort her to her first meeting. Sean watched her thin figure retreat until it disappeared around a corner.

“She’ll give you a call when she’s ready,” the receptionist said. “You’re welcome to wait here. We have a small café down that way.”

“No,” he said, almost too quickly. “I’ll just wait for her to call.” He didn’t want to tell the receptionist that he couldn’t stand to sit there any longer. That the walls crept closer with every minute.

As soon as he slid into the driver’s seat, he whipped out the phone and called Joon-ki. “Hey! Good to hear from you. Everything okay?” Joon-ki asked.

“Everything’s okay with me, yeah,” he said. “I just dropped Harper off at rehab.”

“What?” Joon-ki’s voice changed. “Sean, you didn’t tell me she was an addict. You know how dangerous it can be for you—”

“Rehab for anorexia,” he corrected quickly.

“Oh. That’s … I’m sorry. Is everything okay?”

“I guess it’s as good as it can be. It’s outpatient, at least for now. You working?”

“Just finishing up,” Joon-ki said.

“Must be nice, being done with work on a Thursday at ten in the morning.”

“Yeah, the great joys of being a systems integration specialist. That’s why we have grads lining up around the block to take over our jobs.”

“I think you’re spoiled. You’ve been setting your own hours and working from home too long.”

“Maybe,” Joon-ki admitted. “Did you want to meet? Go to a meeting? How long do you have?”

He paused. A meeting would help pass the time, maybe settle his nerves. “Yeah, sounds good,” he said as he checked the time. “Meeting’s not for an hour. If you want to grab coffee before, it’s my treat.”

“Sure, are you in Hollywood? Just give me fifteen minutes.”

“Yeah, let’s do the one oh one.”

Sean waited for Joon-ki in the kitschy diner with a thick white mug of the drip of the day cradled in his hands.

“Hi,” Joon-ki said as he slid his narrow frame into the vinyl booth. “You look on edge.”

“I feel even worse,” Sean said.

“Why’s that?” Joon-ki smiled up to the waitress and ordered his usual, with an extra shot in the dark.

“I feel like I failed her,” he said. He’d had one quarter of an hour to think about his first line, and that was the best he’d come up with.

“An eating disorder is a mental disorder,” Joon-ki said gently. “One of the deadliest and most underdiagnosed. For all you know, your support partially helped her find the strength to seek out help. And I’m guessing that she’s suffered from anorexia for several years. How could you have failed her?”

“I didn’t see,” Sean said quietly. “She was right. She was … so scared that I’d up and leave her because she wasn’t going to be a model anymore. She’s terrified she’ll get fat. And maybe she’s right.”

Joon-ki raised a brow at him, but didn’t say anything. He’d never judge.

“Not that I’d leave her. Or that she’ll get fat, not that that matters,” Sean said quickly. “But maybe she’s right that I fell for her because of how she looks.”

“Sean, that’s natural! There’s nothing wrong with being attracted to the person you’re with. Or for that being the driving factor when you first meet. You don’t have to be a martyr, and go around seeking out people you’re intentionally unattracted to just to prove something.”

He sighed. “I know, but maybe I did something that made her feel like her looks are all that mattered.”

“I can promise you that it was society that did that. And the industry she’s been in for however many years now. Sean,” Joon-ki said as he reached across the table and gently touched his forearm. “I don’t mean for this to sound rude, but don’t you think it’s a little egotistical to think that you drove a girl to an eating disorder after just a few weeks?”

He could feel his ears burn. “Well, when you put it like that …”

“It’s really easy for us to blame ourselves when somebody we love struggles with something like this. Will you be going to therapy with her?”

“I think so. At least sometimes.”

“Then whatever issues may have impacted her disorder will be addressed and hashed out there, with a professional mediating. Just save these fears and feelings for those sessions. Not that you can’t talk to me, of course. I’m glad that you trust me. I just want to make sure you bring this up in therapy, too.”

“Yeah,” Sean said as he nodded. “I will.”

“Just remember that it’s not about how you feel. Her process is about how she feels. She’ll be fragile right now, so just protect her to the best of your ability.”

“Thanks for the reality check,” Sean said. “I needed that.”

“Should we head to the meeting?” Joon-ki asked as he finished the coffee to the dregs.

“Let’s do it.” They stood up and Joon-ki clapped him on the shoulder as they headed to the church across the street.