Page 24 of About that Fling
He shrugged, remembering the way his new bride had put her hand on his arm and whispered for him not to make a scene.
“Appearances are important to her,” Amelia had murmured, glancing around nervously at her assembled family. “Let’s not make a big deal. Besides, she is paying for it.”
It wasn’t the first time Adam had realized the price that came from letting someone else control his financial future, but it was the moment he vowed he’d never do it again.
He’d busted ass over the years to make sure of it, working extra hours at the law firm to get ahead, to provide for Mia so she’d get out from under her mother’s thumb. He remembered how much she’d wanted to go to Hawaii, how he’d scrimped and saved to surprise her with a vacation at Christmas.
He’d downloaded the tickets that same day. The day he’d come home early to find her and Mark?—
“Is this weird for you?” Jenna asked, jarring him back to the present.
“Is what weird?”
“Knowing I’ve probably heard every dirty detail about your marriage and divorce,” she said. “Women talk, you know. I heard about the time you got busted after she talked you into sex in a hotel pool. I know about your camping trip to the Grand Canyon when you fought the whole time about whether or not to have kids. I know you were there for her when her father died, and that you had a big disagreement about whether to visit your parents in Africa after they joined the Peace Corps.”
The string of memories she’d just laid out made him want to punch something. Not a person, of course. A soft pillow, maybe a stuffed animal.
Dude, you’re losing it.
He didn’t care what Mia had said about him. It was water under the bridge, ancient history.
Only he did care. He cared that Jenna knew only one side of the story. One side of him—Mia’s version of events, of the marriage gone sour, of the ex-husband she’d chosen to leave.
He shook his head and gave a shrug he hoped conveyed indifference. The wind caught a stray lock of her hair, tickling the back of his hand. “Weird,” he repeated, returning to her original question. “Weird is the right word. Not sad, not angry, it’s just weird.”
She smiled. “That’s the clinical term?”
“Exactly.” He smiled back, breathing in the soft, floral scent of her perfume. Something like lilacs, maybe, with a hint of lemon. “Years of training as a counselor make me highly qualified to diagnose weirdness.”
The light flickered back into her eyes, and Adam felt the mood shift from awkward to playful in the span of two heartbeats.
“I enjoyed watching you work this week,” she said. “You might have even made some progress with the team.”
“You mean after I disarmed the CEO and suggested the ER manager might want to consider addressing people by name instead of as twat-waffles and ass-hats?”
“That was progress. What was that technique called again?”
“It’s based on some of the principles of Imago theory,” he said, shifting on the bench so his leg was scant inches from hers. “Dr. Vivienne Brandt had a huge section on it in her last book. Maybe you remember it?”
She looked at him blankly, then shrugged. “Sorry. I’ve heard of Dr. Viv, but I have to admit that I don’t read much self-help. Maybe I should?”
“It’s okay. Dr. Viv is one of the best in the business, but she didn’t invent Imago theory.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a form of relationship and couples’ therapy based on collaboration, understanding, giving, and responsibility.”
“Couples’ therapy? You’re handling a feuding staff like a bunch of pissed-off spouses?”
He grinned, relaxing back into the conversation now. “That’s pretty much what they are, right? Minus the sex and the arguments about who farted under the covers.”
He felt her shiver beside him and wondered if it was the mention of sex or the breeze. Or maybe the fart joke. Not exactly classy. He should probably call the front desk, just get them out of here and on with their respective lives.
But Jenna settled back against his arm again, and any urge to flee evaporated into the late-summer breeze.
“Tell me more about this couples’ therapy stuff,” she said. “How’s it going to fix our screwed-up team dynamic?”
“Well, next week we’ll work on Imago Dialogue.”
