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I jerk my head back. "You—thank me?"
"I do."
This must be shock I'm feeling. She thanks me? I lean over my desk again. "But I invaded your privacy."
"If you're talking about the phone incident, don't worry about it."
"You should still be angry."
She stretches out a leg to tap my nose with her big toe. "Lighten up, Ror. I'm over it. You get a onetime free pass on keeping secrets."
I push my glasses down to study her over their rims. "Ror?"
"Yeah, I'm trying out a nickname for you."
"I don't require a nickname. And 'Ror' is bloody ridiculous. I'm not a lion." I catch her big toe to stop her from waving it in my face. "My name is Rory. Say it with me. Ror-ee."
She wiggles her toe in my grip. "I knew you had a sense of humor, baby."
"Must you call me 'baby'? I am not a bairn."
"Don't worry. I'll find a good nickname for you." She smiles. "But it might include the word baby."
"As long as it's not 'Ror.' "
"No, that wasn't working for me either."
"Glad to hear it." I release her toe, skating my middle finger down the sole of her foot, rewarded by her subtle intake of breath. "Any other questions?"
"Not really a question. More of a request." My wife sets her feet on the floor, sits up straight, and rests both hands on her thighs. "Do you remember what I said about needing total honesty?"
I link my hands on the desktop. "You need to understand two things. I can't discuss my clients or their private legal matters."
"Of course. I get that."
"There are also parts of my past I don't care to discuss at all."
"Rory, you can tell me about—"
"No."
I can see her nails digging into her thighs, but she pries them loose. "Total honesty. It's nonnegotiable."
Though I have no idea why, I finger my wedding ring.
"This is the deal," she says. "I won't pester you to tell me about your past. I will ask questions, though, and the longer we live together and you don't tell me, the more it'll make things uncomfortable between us. I can't help that. We need to be friends, Rory."
"Asking questions sounds like pestering."
"Not the way I do it." Emery rises and perches her sexy erse on the edge of my desk. "I'm your therapist, remember? While I search for my true bliss, my mission is to help you relearn how to have fun."
"I assumed it would be sex therapy."
"Sex is a part of it, but you need way more than that."
"I shouldn't be your life's purpose."
The lass spreads a hand over the smooth, dark wood of the desk and leans toward me. "You aren't my life's purpose. You're my current mission. I've set my sights on making sure you come out of your office prison for more than sleeping and eating, and that you remember how to enjoy life. I plan on helping you lift that weight you carry around. I'm beginning to suspect it's an ex-wife-shaped burden."
