Page 133 of The Overtime Kiss

Then, without overthinking it, but making sure all the lights are off, I slide it under his door.

I don’t linger. I don’t listen for him. I simply return to my home and go to bed. Before I turn out the light, I put the tiny sex diary away. We haven’t talked about another lesson. I’m not even sure we’ll have one.

And really, that’s okay.

The next morning when the kids are at school, I head to a skating lesson with Tiffany. She has a long break in the middle of the day so is able to do lessons then. At the rink, I say hello to Marla at the front counter, then meet my student on the ice where I show her how to skate backward.

And pretty soon, she’s nailing it. “Look, Mom!” she shouts to her mother in the bleachers. “You should do it too.”

Her mom smiles and doesn’t say no immediately.

When the lesson ends, Tiffany skates to the boards. “Seriously. It’s so fun. You should do it.”

I turn to her mother, give a hopeful shrug, and say, “Figure skating is always a good idea.”

“Maybe I’ll try someday,” her mom says, and I like that attitude.

A lot.

When I head into my next session with Elena that afternoon, the guilt I felt last time over withholding intel from her is gone. What am I even keeping from her now? I’m not sure I’m still having athingwith my boss anymore. Tyler’s out of town for an away game, and we didn’t set a date for a fourth lesson.

If we even will have one.

There’s really nothing to discuss about him.

But Elena wants to know how I’m feeling about the upcoming holidays. “It’s your first Christmas since the wedding,” she states. “And since the things your father said to you last summer. Will you see your parents at all?”

My throat tightens all at once—uncomfortably. The memories rush back. The things my father said to me that day. The things my mother never said.

The gaslighting.

And then, images of Chad and Madison flicker through my mind too—them enjoying the blenders and napkin rings, the ones that were meant for us.

Let them. Just let them enjoy them.

Feeling strong and certain, I answer her: “And I won’t be seeing them—my parents.”

“How do you feel about that?”

I see my parents’ home, cold and immaculately decorated. “Fine, actually. I don’t think I’ll miss them,” I say, but then I picture Tyler’s living room, imagining him decorating it with his kids when he returns from his road trip. I think about their excitement for Santa, and suddenly, everything feels complicated in a whole new way.

“I need to get in touch with my friends and see what they’re doing,” I add. “It’ll be weird being in the house by myself.”

At least that is the truth.

And it feels…a little freeing to say it.

No,a lot.

I look at Elena again, at her warm eyes, her shrewd gaze, her laugh lines, and the kindness in her expression.

I walked through her door for the first time many years ago so I could make changes. Those changes started with honesty. I don’t know what changes I need to make now. But whatever they are, they ought to at least start with honesty.

“And the other thing is,” I say, and it’s not as hard as I’d thought it would be to finish the thought: “I have feelings for my boss.”

Elena nods, then listens without judgement as I tell her more.

33

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