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“I told you I’d help you and Quinn. If you continue to honor what you said, that you won’t run, I’m here to help you both. Then we’ll move on with our lives.”

“And this”—he waves a hand between us—“won’t be an issue anymore?”

I don’t know whether to laugh or puke. “I’m a professional,” I force out, “and Quinn deserves to have the best version of you. Not whatever this is.”

Noah doesn’t balk at the barb. “You haven’t gone soft, I’ll tell you that much.”

My cheek twitches. “I’m only soft when I need to be, and you don’t need me to be soft. You need someone to push you, and I’m going to be that person, whether you like it or not.”

Noah’s brow lifts again, but this time, it’s a challenge instead of a question. It reminds me of when I used to say I could beat him in a game of one-on-one, and he’d tell me I was dreaming. We both won our fair share, but he was always cocky enough to believe he’d be the winner. It’s been both his gift and his undoing.

“Okay,” he responds again.

“Okay,” I parrot.

We stare at each other for what feels like the millionth time this morning, a raven cawing overhead.

“I hope that’s not some kind of bad omen,” Noah says.

I shrug. “Ravens get a bad rap, but they’ve long been symbols of transformation, wisdom, magic, and prophecy. Even when they’re tied to death, it’s usually about endings and change rather than death itself.”

Noah looks me up and down as if I have a third head. “You really have embraced this mentor-in-the-desert thing, huh?”

His tone doesn’t sound as if he’s making fun of me, so I nod. “Change can be good, Noah. You should try it.” I pat him on the back and turn before he can speak again. As I do, Quinn comes into the backyard wearing a tentative smile, eyes darting between me and her husband.

Her hair is dry now, pink waves framing her round face and the dress she’s wearing flowing in the light breeze. The pain in my chest lessens just a tiny bit, and I smile back at her.

“Am I interrupting?” she asks.

A gong resounds, making both Quinn and Noah, the latter of which is still beside me, jump.

I shake my head. “Nope, you’re right on time. The gong means our first session just started.”

“They use a gong?” Noah asks, his tone both disbelieving and amused.

I don’t answer him. Instead, I gently push him toward where I have two chairs set facing each other with another one to the side. That’s where I’ll sit.

Quinn walks to us, and the couple stands near the chairs, waiting for me to say more.

I gesture to their seats and sit in mine, looking up at them when they don’t immediately take theirs. “Have a seat, Mr. and Mrs. Ashcroft. It’s time for your first one-on-one exercise.”

Chapter fifteen

Quinn

Sitting in a chair and staring at your spouse is more awkward than I thought it would be. Especially when your spouse’s ex-not-ex is also staring at you.

We haven’t even begun whatever this exercise is, but Noah is uncomfortable. At least he doesn’t look as agonized or pissed with Beck as he did before, just itchy in his skin and with the situation.

Beck rubs his hands together and leans forward in his chair to draw our attention to him. He looks good today in his beige linen pants and white linen shirt. Like Noah, he appears less angry than before they spoke.

At least they were able to move forward, because during the opening session, I was worried we’d be gone before lunch. While I don’t know what they talked about, I’m glad they did, and I’m even more glad that we’re still here and Beck is still our mentor.

Something about him soothes me and even Noah, though he’d never admit it. I saw the way Beck helped him through his panic earlier, and I knew I made the right choice in staying and keeping him as our mentor. Maybe I should be jealous of Beck and his obvious knowledge of my husband, but if I’m going to walk out of here with my marriage intact, we need a mentor who knows what makes Noah tick. It’s clear to me that Beck is that person.

“I want to start off by saying that I’m glad you’re both here with me and are allowing me to share in this time with you,” Beck says. “Your trust during this process means a lot to me, and I don’t take it for granted.”

Noah doesn’t respond verbally, only a simple upward “man nod,” so I use my words. “Thank you, Beck. We appreciate it. We’re glad to be here, too.”