She concentrates on tracing the MLA graphic on my T-shirt with her fingertip as she says, “I don’t think I can do . . . the things you wanted.”
“Maybe we can figure out another way, meet in the middle somehow.”
“Do you have any ideas?” she asks.
“Not yet,” I admit. The thought of fucking her while she lies there, wishing for it to be over, puts a bitter taste in my mouth, but there has to be another way, something else we can do. We can’t be the first people in history to have this kind of problem.
“Okay,” she says, squaring her shoulders as a determined glint enters her eyes. “Let’s try it one more time.”
I don’t attempt to stop myself from smiling. “Okay.”
“Next weekend?” she asks.
“That works.”
“Are we completely ridiculous?”
“Maybe,” I say with a laugh.
She laughs along with me, and for a moment, we stand there in each other’s arms, just looking at one another.
Eventually, I pull away. “I’m going to head out, but we should text and decide on next weekend.”
“Sure.” She flashes a smile at me. “Bye, Quan.”
Giving her one last, quick kiss on the lips, I say, “Bye, Anna.”
Then I leave, and she shuts the door behind me. As I walk to my car, I brainstorm different ways we can approach our intimacy problems. Nothing seems quite right, but I think we’ll get there.
TWELVE
Anna
“How have you been, Anna?” Jennifer Aniston asks. Today, she’s wearing a loose dress with Aztec designs and leather sandals that loop around her big toes and ankles.
The usual answer slips from my lips. “The same.” But then I hesitate. “Well, not entirely.” A lot has happened in the weeks since our last appointment.
Her eyes spark with interest. “How so?”
“My boyfriend decided he wanted to have an open relationship.”
She opens her mouth to reply, but it takes a second before she actually speaks. “There’s a lot to unpack there.”
“Yeah.” I smile awkwardly and look down at my hands, which are clasped together in my lap as usual.
“How do you feel about it?” she asks.
I hesitate to answer, examining her face as I try to determine what her opinion is on the matter.
“How do you feel, Anna,” she says softly. “Not me. What I think isn’t important.”
I push a long breath out through my mouth. “You say that, but you’re not a stranger I’m meeting for a one-night stand. You’re someone I’ll be seeing on a regular basis for the foreseeable future. If you don’t like me, that makes things difficult for me.”
“Well, I do like you,” she says with a kind yet amused smile, “and I have no interest in judging you, only helping you. So tell me what happened. Are you in an open relationship now? Since you mentioned it, do you want to tell me if you had a one-night stand?”
“We are in an open relationship now,” I say. “I’m certain he’s seeing other people.”
The corners of her mouth droop downward, and her eyes darken with understanding. “That’s got to be hard to accept.”