Let him in.

I sit on my chair in front of the easel, holding absolutely still as Nate’s hand falls from the knob.

Let him in.

I don’t move. Letting him in would be a mistake. If I let him in, he’d flash me that smile. He’d look at me the way he always does and I won’t be able to resist him.

Finally, his feet click down the sidewalk. I follow the sound around the house, my eyes drawing a line along the wall until I can’t hear him anymore.

It feels awful. It feels like an important part of myself is going with him. The part the makes me laugh and smile and feel good about myself but it’s not right. It’s the right feeling. But it’s the wrong man.

I take my deep breath and hold it as I stare at the blank canvas in front of me.

* * *

“You look different.”

I nod as Dr. Sumner leans forward in her seat. “I feel different,” I say.

Her eyes trail downward again, bouncing from the top of my head to my feet and back again. “What’s different?” she asks.

“Well, I...” My lips twitch. “I did what you told me to do.”

She smiles. “...And?”

“And...”

I kissed a man other than my husband.

“I reconnected with some old friends,” I say instead.

Sumner’s stretches her hands out in an explosive, jazz-hands-like maneuver. “Atta girl!” She chuckles. “How does it feel?”

“It feels great. Really great. I talked to my neighbors for the first time in a year. I went to Lucky’s bar on a Saturday night.”

She blinks. “Whoa.”

“Yeah, whoa.” I force a chuckle. “It’s all really great...”

Her hands plummet back to her lap. “But?” she asks, sensing more words on my tongue.

I sigh. “The Fourth of July is next week,” I say slowly.

“The anniversary.”

“I’d almost forgotten about it, strangely.” I fiddle with the fingertips of my glove. “Then, I realized that I’ll never really be able to. That’s the thing about holidays. You have one bad one and it taints it for the rest of your life. While everyone else is...” I swallow the lump in my throat, “planning hoedowns and buying fireworks, you’re just trying to breathe through it.”

“Is that what you’re doing now?” she asks. “Just trying to breathe through it?”

“That, and thinking about avoiding the world until it’s over with again.” I look at her. “How do you deal with everyone around you celebrating on the worst day of your life?” I ask.

“It might feel like it but cocooning yourself away again isn’t the answer you’re looking for, Kimber.”

She waits for a response but I say nothing.

“Have you spoken to Curtis about this?” she asks.

My eyes wander to the empty armchair beside me. “No,” I say.

“And will he be joining us this evening?”

I shrug a shoulder. He knows when our appointment is. 8 PM. Thursday nights. For four months now.

I glance at the clock. Thirty-two minutes late. New record.

“Have you thought about what I said last week?” Sumner asks.

Kick him to the curb, honey.

I tap my knees. I nod.

Her fingers ready themselves for another happy gesture. “...And?”

I bite my lip as a sudden heatwave touches my cheeks.

She sighs, her fingers thudding back onto her lap. “Kimber, I’m going to give you permission to do something. You might not like it. You might even reject it, but when you leave here tonight I want you to genuinely think about doing it. Just once over the next week. Okay?”

“Okay,” I say. “What?”

“Be selfish,” she says.

I blink. “Selfish?”

She leans forward again. “I’m giving you permission to do something for the soul purpose of making you happy. Anything at all. Doesn’t matter how small. Just one thing. I want you to reach out and take it. Anything your heart desires.”

A shiver travels up my spine. “Anything?” I repeat.

“Yes!” she says. “Kimber, I’ve known you for a long time now. When you walked in here tonight, I knew something had changed. You spent this last week tending to your needs, didn’t you? You took chances and came out smiling. Am I right or am I right?”

I feel a phantom thumb brush my bottom lip. “Right,” I say.

“I want you to come in here next week looking even better. When my patients take care of themselves, it makes my job easier, and when my job is easier, I’m a happy camper. So!” She claps her hands once. “One thing. That’s your homework.”

“One thing,” I repeat.

“That’s all.”

I think for a moment, rejecting the idea like she said I might.

“But what if...” I pause.

“What if what?”

“What if what I want hurts another person?” I ask.

“Another person... like your husband?” she says.

I hesitate. “Yes.”

“Let me put it this way...” She points at the empty seat beside me. “Does that hurt you?” she asks.

I look at the chair. “Yes,” I answer.

Sumner nods. “Do you think he cares?”