He’d dreaded this appointment with Dr. Lindsey. He hadn’t told anyone what had happened with Anna. What was even the point? He knew that after a while, she’d mention in some stupid article that she was single again—that had been in her and Simon’s plan, after all—and then he’d say something to his family about it. Someday, he’d figure out what to do with those sneakers Anna gave him. For now, he just muted the family group text, avoided Theo’s calls, and left the sneakers where they were, shoved in the back of a closet. But he worried that Dr. Lindsey would see right through him.

He sat down on her couch, determined to just get this appointment over with and go on with his day.

“How was your week, Ben?” she asked to start him off, the way she always did.

He shrugged.

“Not terrible—the premiere with Anna was last week.” God, it hurt to even say her name. He was pathetic. “So that was fun. That whole thing is over now, though.”

She looked over her folded hands at him.

“And how do you feel about that?” Of course she asked that.

He was going to lie, was going to say he felt fine, that he was ready to get back to his normal life.

But he just couldn’t do it. Why the fuck was he in therapy in the first place if he wasn’t going to talk about the hard stuff?

“I feel like shit about it,” he said. “I told her I fell in love with her. After the premiere. I didn’t realize it until then. So I told her.” He could feel himself getting choked up. Fuck. He had to stop talking for a second, so his voice wouldn’t betray him. “It didn’t go well.”

He looked down so he wouldn’t have to see the look on Dr. Lindsey’s face.

“Oh, Ben. Oh, Ben, I’m so sorry. From the way you talked about her, I wondered if maybe . . . but I didn’t—forgive me for saying this, but I didn’t think you’d tell her.”

He looked up at her. She looked so kind he had to look away.

“No forgiveness necessary. I honestly hadn’t planned to tell you, either, but”—he lifted his hands—“I had to tell someone, and that’s kind of your job. Anyway. I feel like shit. I guess I already said that, but . . . I don’t know, I don’t know how to deal with this, and it sucks. Can you . . . What can you do to make me not feel like shit?”

She laughed, but kindly. Laugh number five!

“Oh, Ben. I’m so sorry. Unfortunately, there’s no quick cure for feeling like shit after a breakup—if there was, I’d probably be out of a job. But—can I ask you—why did you tell her?”

He looked down at his hands.

“She said—a few weeks back, we were being kind of snippy with each other, and then I kissed her, just, I guess, to make it all stop, and she said something that I feel like you’ve been trying to tell me for . . . years now. That I use sex as a distraction when I’m upset or I don’t want to deal with something. And so that night, after I realized that . . . I loved her, and after we had sex, I thought about that. And also about what you said not long ago.”

She looked surprised.

“Which thing I said?”

“That thing about how sometimes it’s important to tell people how you feel just to say it. I hadn’t . . . I didn’t really understand what you meant then. But I guess I figured it out.”

“Are you glad you told her?” she asked. “Even though she didn’t respond in the way you wished she would?”

He thought about that for a long time. About how broken he’d felt in Anna’s bed that night, how he’d wished he could take it back, how ashamed he’d been, how stupid he’d felt.

And then he’d thought about what it would have felt like to keep pretending forever. To have her come to the Bay Area to see her parents and text him, and pretend all he wanted from her was a few hours of mutual pleasure. To pretend that to her, and to himself.

“Not at first. At first, I was so humiliated. I hated doing it. I hated myself for doing it. Everything about it felt awful. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I’ve hated every day since.” He bit his lip. “But yeah. I’m glad I did it.”

He took a deep breath.

“And while I’m talking about things. There’s something else I haven’t told you. I found out a few months ago that I have a sister. Dawn.”

Dr. Lindsey nodded slowly. That made him realize just how much he’d shocked her when he told her what he’d said to Anna—she’d been so visibly surprised then that she was almost relaxed at this bombshell.

“Oh wow. Okay, that’s a big deal,” she said in her soothing voice. “From your father, I assume? How did you find out?”

And then he told her the whole story. About the emails, and what he’d said to her, and what he hadn’t told her. And that she wanted to meet him.

“And I’ve been . . . avoiding her ever since then,” he said. “She sent a few emails about the Anna stuff when she saw it in the news, but I kept taking longer and longer between replies to her, and I finally just . . . stopped.” He swallowed. “Hearing from her . . . it brought up some stuff about my dad, that I thought I’d dealt with. And I guess I was worried that this would mess up what Theo and I have. But that seems stupid now. Maybe I was just afraid of more change. And of having to think about—and talk about—my dad again, when I thought I was all done with that.”

Dr. Lindsey raised her eyebrows.

“You thought you were all done with that?”

He laughed out loud, and she joined in. Six!

“Anna . . .” He let out a breath. “Anna said something similar when I told her about it.”

Dr. Lindsey smiled at him.

“You and Anna talked about a lot, it seems.”

She had no idea.

“Yeah. We did.”

He left Dr. Lindsey’s office feeling exhausted and wrung out, but also relieved. It had hurt—a lot—to tell her about Anna, and about Dawn. But somehow he felt better. Like he didn’t have to deal with all of this alone.

Speaking of.

I know you’re busy, but when are you free for a drink? Yes I’ll come to the east bay.

 

Theo texted back a few minutes later.

He’s alive! This week is a nightmare, but next week?

 

Okay. He could wait until then.

 

* * *

 

—

Anna woke up to the sound of her phone ringing. It was late, she was usually up by then, but she hadn’t been sleeping well. It had been taking a long time to fall asleep, and then she would wake up in the middle of the night and stare at her ceiling for hours, before she finally fell back asleep right around sunrise.