Page 44 of Paxton

I chuckle, nodding even though her eyes are closed. “One of them,” I answer, working my way higher up her head.

“I guess I get why you wouldn't be dreaming about your wedding then,” she says. “You probably heard all kinds of wild stories growing up.”

“I have,” I admit. “Once I was old enough, I asked questions about my mom’s cases. She never lied to me about them and it sort of made me look at marriage in a different way. Which is not to say it's bad,” I hurry to continue. “I think it's more like I've seen behind the curtain a little too much. The reality of it made me view marriage in a different way. And it's all quite ironic, since my parents have been happily married for like a billion years.”

Lana chuckles softly, sighing again as I run my fingers through her hair, working on her temples in soothing circles. “That's encouraging,” she says. “I mean that your mom can see so many marriages falling apart and still believe in her own. It must be true love.”

I nod again. “She’s one of the most dedicated believers in love that I know, actually. I think something about seeing so many divorces has given her almost like a master's degree in reverse engineering the situation. But either way, that's why I'm not too helpful on this subject.”

“I get that,” she says. “I know I ramble about this a lot. Trust me, when our wedding is far behind us, I'm sure I'll have a lot more random things to talk to you about. I swear there's some kind of magic in your hands that has me spilling every intrusive thought I have to you.”

I laugh. “You're not alone,” I assure her and not for the first time. “There's a deep intrinsic connection between muscle tension and emotional tension. Trust me, your secrets are safe.”

“I love you,” she says as we wrap up our session and I head toward my door to give her privacy to get dressed. “Seriously, maybe I should just ask you to marry me instead of John.”

“You would be my third proposal of the day,” I laugh from where my hand lingers on the doorknob. “Also another side effect of the trade.”

Lana laughs from where she still lays on my table. “Have you accepted any of them yet? I'm sure you’d help me pick a cake flavor.”

I laugh again. “No, I haven't. And yes, I would. I'm going to go get you some water, take your time getting dressed.”

I head down the stairs, giving her the privacy she needs while walking into the kitchen and wash my hands. I grab one of the water bottles I stock in the fridge for my clients, before setting it on the counter.

I wait patiently for Lana, thoughts spiraling to our conversation throughout the entire session. It's been all about preparations for the wedding and how excited she is about the dress and the flowers and the food and the people she's going to invite.

I know she loves John. I’ve worked on them both in previous off-seasons, but she barely mentioned him today unless she was complaining about something he didn't do for the wedding. I can see how it would be an overwhelming situation, with the amount of planning and careful decisions it takes to throw an event such as that.

And love is something I believeshouldbe celebrated, but I hate that I can’t offer her any more advice than I did, especially because I view the institution of marriage as something between a prison sentence and a bomb just waiting to be detonated. I know that sounds ridiculous with how happy my parents are, but I’ve watched my mom with so many different clients who looked completely broken during their divorces. People who looked likeshells, purple under their eyes and tear tracks on their cheeks. People who’d once been like Lana, eagerly planning a wedding only for it to be ripped away from them later.

Why risk that?

Why risk getting hurt so deeply when the odds aren’t in your favor to begin with?

I can’t stop my thoughts from spinning right to Paxton, putting him in the situation that Lana brought up earlier.

I can see it clearly in my mind, knowing he'd be right there with me if we were at a cake tasting or a wine tasting or venue hunting. We'd laugh and joke and tease each other just like we normally did. In fact, I don't think there’s one thing I could do with Paxton where I wouldn't have a blast.

That thought spins right into another image, one of me in a white dress and him in a nice tux, diamond and gold bands between us?—

“You are a goddess,” Lana says, shaking me from my thoughts as she meets me in the kitchen. “Seriously, I feel better than I have in weeks.” She takes the water bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking a drink. “Same time in three weeks?” she asks after swallowing the mouthfuls.

“Actually, I'm going to have to bump you up to two weeks. After that, the official season will start and I won't be able to work on private clients until the off-season again.”

“Wow, is it already time to play again?” she asks, shaking her head. “I didn't realize.”

“And just think, after this season you'll be a married woman.” I smile at her.

Lana practically glows. “That’s something to look forward to. You'll have to forgive me when I ask you to call me Mrs. Anderson for our first few sessions.”

We both laugh at that. “I’ll be happy to,” I say as she heads toward the front door. I hold it open for her. “Make sure you drink plenty of water tonight,” I say as she steps through it.

She shakes the half-drunk water bottle at me. “Yes, ma'am,” she says smiling and waving at me as she walks to her car.

I shut the door behind her, making my way back up to my room to wash my sheets and restock my lotions, all the while doing my best to ignore that image that’s planted in my brain before she came downstairs.

The one of Paxton and me andforeverstretching out before us.

The idea no longer terrifies me as much as it used to. In fact, it seems downright appealing, this warmth in my heart a constant welcoming feeling.

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