Page 5 of Broken Heat
“Yes.”
“With patients?”
I gulped. “Sometimes. Yes, if they are in heat.”
“Aside from your last two patients, were those thoughts of breeding recent?”
“Yes.”
“But you hold yourself back.”
“Always.” No hesitation.
Senta nodded. “You know I’m very happy with your work. You know that, right?”
I nodded.
“Every report I get back on a case you’ve handled has been stellar. You’re very professional but also very amicable, considerate, generous.”
“But?”
“But what?”
“There’s always abut. Are you firing me?”
“Oh, Mykel. Not at all.”
Senta rocked forward and stood. He came around his desk and stood over me, placing a hand on my shoulder, the touch light and airy.
I looked up at him. “Will I still be able to offer surrogacy?”
“Here’s what I’m asking. Now that we have a starting point, that you have been thinking of breeding—and that’s not a fault or anything I hold you accountable for—I’d like to assign you to therapy just to talk about it. For a minimum of one month. Your salary will not be affected. This is all part of the job. You’d be surprised how many surrogates need therapeutic focus every once in a while.”
“Really? How many surrogates need therapy? Do you have statistics?”
Senta smiled. “At least eighty percent.”
“That high?” This was something I should have known and didn’t.
“I can show you the reports and articles about it.”
“One month. No work.” I sighed. “That’s going to be hard. I love my work. I love keeping busy.”
“After that, we’ll re-assess.” Senta put a hand on my shoulder to reassure me, lightly sweeping back my blond hair, which had grown longer than I usually kept it—shoulder-length. As a child, it had been waist-length. I’d cried every time it was trimmed.
Senta leaned back, his hand falling to his side. “Use the time to make use of all our facilities. You can swim, relax, play golf or tennis. You’re in a beautiful resort. Enjoy it.”
I nodded, but a tinge of panic washed through me. This did not sound promising. Obviously, the therapist assigned to me would want to talk about breeding. I didn’t really want to breed, did I? At the young age of thirty? Up until recently, I’d never had a single thought of wanting kids.
What if I failed at the therapy? Then what would I do?
“Is this agreeable to you? So you can move forward and get back to work?” he asked.
I hated this. But I wanted to keep my job. I would do anything for Senta.
What else was there to say?
“Yes.”
