22. Talia

Chapter 22

Talia

T ucked in our usual corner at Rhubarb, I sip black tea while Mia nibbles distractedly on avocado toast, her gaze glued to her phone as she reads the article that came out in the LA Times this morning.

“Holy shit,” she says for the fifth time. Unlike the previous instances, however, this time she expounds on it. “I’m at the part where you drop the statistics about how many people have either tried or fantasized about BDSM or admit to having kinks. This is wild. It’s the norm not the exception. Everyone needs to know this.”

“That’s the idea,” I say wryly.

When the journalist, Alicia Reynolds, first emailed me last week, I almost trashed the message. But that was before . Before Crossroads and Kieran and Sven’s text.

I called her early Monday morning. She came to my office that afternoon and grilled me for close to three hours. The result is an article entitled, Meet Dr. Talia Stirling, L.A.’s Most Controversial Therapist.

“I like this journalist,” Mia murmurs. “She did right by you.”

I murmur agreement, keeping to myself that Alicia did right by herself and her community, too. I hadn’t recognized her name, and it took about twenty minutes into the interview for me to realize why she seemed familiar—because when I’d seen her at Crossroads over the years, she was generally blindfolded and wearing a lot less clothing.

I didn’t say anything when I recognized her and outside silently acknowledging the moment with a nod, neither did she. Based on the first few questions she asked, I had no doubts she’d be able to remain professional. In fact, she was brutal. Her very first question was, “Have you ever had sex with a therapy client?”

Thanks to Kieran firing me Saturday night, I didn’t have to lie.

Mia finishes reading and her sparkling eyes meet mine. “I’m so proud of you, Talia.”

I make a face. “Ew.”

Her smile widens. “Get used to it, woman, because this is only the beginning. I can feel it. What are the latest book offers up to?”

My face warms. “A lot.”

She rubs her hands together. “Wait until this hits national publications. Hello, bidding wars.”

I shift in my chair. “Can we talk about something else? ”

She laughs knowingly. “Sure. Have you reached out to you-know-who?”

I wince, realizing I set myself up. Shaking my head, I look into my tea so I don’t have to see her sympathetic expression.

After waking up on Sunday and losing my mind, I wound up calling her instead of Leo. In the moment, I’d needed a female friend far more than a therapist. She showed up at my house an hour later and stayed all day.

She knows everything, down to the fact I let Kieran dominate me and enjoyed—no, loved every second of it. And every day since, she’s been bugging me to contact him. For closure, for clarification, or for—as she optimistically believes—confirmation that Saturday night meant as much to him as it did to me. That his trip to Ireland wasn’t him trying to get as far away from me as fast as he could.

Every day, I’ve woken up a little less opposed to the idea. A little less scared.

But I’m not brave enough yet.

“I have no idea what I’d say,” I say with a sigh. “‘Are you over me now that you had me?’ Or there’s always, ‘Statistically speaking, your desire for me is likely a projection of complex, unresolved feelings for your dead wife, but I’m down to have my heart smashed, so let’s go.’”

Her brows lift. “Maybe start with, ‘Hi, how are you?’”

A smile tugs my lips. “What a novel idea.”

She grins. “I thought so.”

A figure moves into my periphery, approaching my side of the table. Mia glances at them first. From the shift in her expression, I know it’s not our server. Bracing myself, I turn my head.

A man smiles down at me. Generically handsome, blond, around Kieran’s age. It takes a second to place his face: Oliver McCann, one of Lumitech’s executives. He and his wife were seated across from us at the Alzheimer’s benefit. I didn’t speak to him outside of introductions and goodbyes, though I remember his wife drank too much.

“Hi, Talia. I don’t know if you remember?—”

“Oliver,” I say with manufactured politeness. “Nice to see you again.”

His smile becomes more confident. A touch smug. I almost tell him not to take it personally—I didn’t remember him because he made an impression. I just have a photographic memory.

“Great to see you, too. I thought I’d pop over and say hello. See how you’ve been.”

My gaze narrows; I’m officially annoyed. “I’m fine, thank you. How’s Jenny?”

Instead of the mention of his wife turning off the gleam in his eye, it only grows. “Great. How’s Kieran?”

Caught off guard, I ask, “How should I know?” Then I wish I could retract the words as interest flares in his eyes.

“Oh? Sorry for assuming.” His chuckle is insincere, as is the abashed expression that follows. “I was confused because I thought Kieran was in the Maldives with his girlfriend, but then I saw you and thought maybe you two had stayed local.” He grins. “Does this mean you’re single? ”

I glance at Mia, who looks incensed. Before she can say what’s on her mind, I tell Oliver, “No. I’d like to get back to breakfast now.”

He blinks in that baffled way some men do when a woman is too direct. “Oh, sure. Sorry to interrupt. Take care.”

With a final, lingering glance, he retreats around the wall of greenery behind me.

“What the fuck,” hisses Mia. “What a sleaze ball. You know he was lying about Kieran, right?”

“Yes.”

And I do. Not only would Sven not lie to me about where they were going, Kieran wouldn’t have had sex with me and taken someone else on vacation the next morning.

Taking another sip of tea, I frown.

“What’s the conclusion, Doctor?”

Shaking off an unsettled feeling, I answer, “Oliver feels like he’s in competition with Kieran. They’ve had conflicts over women in the past. He was fishing to see if I’d be open to sleeping with him, probably because he thought it would annoy Kieran.”

“Have I told you how much I love your brain?”

I smirk. “Yes.”

She glances in the direction Oliver went, her mouth twisting. “I’m glad you handed him his ass. Idiot actually thought you’d jump to offer him yours.”

I shudder. “That would never happen.”

Her grin is wicked. “You know what will happen? ”

Catching sight of our server turning the corner behind her, I shake my head quickly. She, of course, pays me no mind.

“More mind-blowing anal sex with a hot Irishman, that’s what! Do you think he’ll let you peg him? Ugh. So hot. I’ve definitely thought about fingering Leo. Should I ask him? If he says yes, can you give me pointers on finding the prostate?”

I drop my forehead into my palm.

“Can I get you ladies anything else?” asks our server, his voice cracking and his face bright red.

Mia erupts in giggles as I swiftly pull out my wallet.

“Just the check.”

When I pull into my driveway, the first thing I see is the last thing I expect: Gabe standing on my front porch. He gives me a wave. I pull into the garage, then quickly grab my purse and meet him in the driveway.

“Hey, Doc,” he says with an easy smile. “Bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here.”

Despite his smile, my heart pounds a mile a minute. “Is everything okay?”

Is Kieran okay?

“Everything’s fine. Do you mind if we step into the garage?”

My senses prickle. “Why?” I ask sharply .

Gabe takes an immediate, large step backward. “Sorry, Dr. Stirling,” he says, voice soft and careful. “It’s a habit in my line of work to avoid high exposure areas. We can stay here if you’re more comfortable.”

I take a slow breath and force myself to relax. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not afraid of you, Gabe. I’ve just had a weird morning.”

“Totally understandable, and it was smart of you to ask. I’ll get to the point—Sven said he tried to text you this morning but none of his messages went through. Consider me your wellness check.”

I relax a little more. “I was at the warehouse for a while. My office there has horrible cell service.”

Gabe nods and pulls out his phone. “If you’re willing, I’d like to give him a quick call now so he can speak with you.”

I glance around the yard, the street. A car drives by slowly; the driver glances at us. The hair on the back of my neck lifts.

“Jesus, now I’m paranoid. Come inside.”

Gabe winces. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for doing your job,” I say as I lead the way. Once the garage door is down, I let us into the house and punch the code to change the alarm from Away settings to Home.

“Glad to see you’re serious about security,” he says cheerfully as he follows me into the kitchen.

I can’t help but laugh. “Sven’s fault. You want some water? ”

He shakes his head, already dialing. “Thanks, I’m good.”

I watch his face, seeing the moment the line connects. He listens for a few seconds, then says, “Yeah, hold on,” and hands me the phone.

My heart skips a beat as I lift it to my ear. What if…

“Hello?” My voice is breathless.

“Dr. Stirling, thanks for humoring me,” rumbles Sven.

I swallow a pulse of disappointment. “Call me Talia, Sven. I’m not your boss’s doctor anymore. What’s going on?”

“Just a minor security concern that was brought to my attention this morning.”

My heart, barely recovered, starts thumping again. “What does that mean? What kind of concern?”

There’s a long pause, like he’s weighing his words. “Since we left town, the same security company that monitors Alistair and Gail’s home has been monitoring yours.”

“ What ? Did you just say my house is being monitored without my knowing or approval?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Gabe’s wince. Sven’s sigh filters through the phone.

“I would have told you, but I think you can guess why I didn’t. That being said, I agreed with him that it was a good idea.”

I rub the bridge of my nose, feeling conflicted. On the one hand, I’m angry at Kieran’s autocratic presumption. Another, more primal part of me is delighted because it means he’s thinking about me. That I’m important enough to protect.

“Okay,” I finally say, “let’s put a pin in that issue. What’s the security concern?”

“The two-man team assigned to you made note of a car driving by repeatedly over the last three days. The plates and registration are dead ends. There were several times the car slowed or stopped on your street right outside your house. Single male driver. Caucasian. Dark hair. They got some photos but so far facial recognition isn’t pinging.”

Disquiet ripples through me. My armpits prickle. I’m suddenly very glad Gabe is standing five feet away with a gun under his jacket.

“I, uh, wasn’t expecting that.”

“I know.” The phone buzzes in my hand. “Will you take a look at the photo I just sent and tell me if you recognize him?”

I pull up the text and zoom in on the photo, studying the man. He’s wearing a baseball hat and sunglasses and looks like anyone. Generic. A shiver rolls down my arms.

“No, I don’t. Sorry.”

He sighs. “It’s all right. Worth a shot.”

“You think it has something to do with…” I can’t say his name, but thankfully, Sven doesn’t make me.

“It’s doubtful. There were some pictures of the two of you from the benefit, but they were scrubbed before circulation. And I’m very careful when I drive. No one followed us to your house Saturday. ”

I flush at the reminder that Sven was here that night, probably just out of sight from the porch. If he was close enough, he could have heard everything Kieran said to me before I closed the door. The prospect doesn’t embarrass me, exactly, but it does make me wonder how many times he’s heard Kieran say similar things to other women. Which in turn pisses me off.

I curl the hand not holding the phone, digging my nails into my palm to refocus. “You think someone might be stalking me?”

“It’s possible. You’re quite the hot topic at the moment and not everyone is a fan.”

That’s putting it lightly. The article that came out this morning was my first in-depth interview, but there’s been a snowball effect since my former client decided to ‘out’ me a week ago. From online forums to clickbait articles, my name is popping up a dozen times a day. I’ve become an unwilling figurehead for incendiary debates on morality, ethics, and sexuality.

I’ve lost three more clients, two of them women who’ve been with me for years. Those hurt a lot worse than the previous losses. The consequences have spilled over the boundary of my career, too. After a disastrous incident at my neighborhood market on Tuesday involving a woman and a Bible, I’ve started grocery delivery.

Breakfast with Mia this morning was the first time I’ve been anywhere but my home or offices this week. In weaker moments, I’ve considered options ranging from cutting and dyeing my hair to closing my practice, selling my properties, and leaving the country. Even the consistent, supportive phone calls I’m getting—both from my network at Crossroads and professional colleagues—haven’t dented my underlying anxiousness.

I’m losing control of the life I built for myself over the last decade. No matter how many times I tell myself I’m okay with it, I’m not.

I’m really, really not.

Sven interrupts my dark thoughts. “Are you still doing the event at Crossroads tonight? If you are, I’d like you to let Gabe escort you there and home.”

There’s a snap in my head.

“No.”

“Talia, listen?—”

“You listen to me , Sven. I understand you’re caught between a rock and Kieran’s cement head, but you aren’t responsible for my safety. Thank you for the heads-up about the car, but I want the watchdogs at my house gone. I’ll find my own security company. As for Crossroads, there’s probably nowhere on earth I’m safer at the moment. Now put your boss on the phone because I have some words for him.”

There’s a weighted pause. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He’s indisposed.”

My anger fizzles as I realize where he must be—with his mom.

“Fine,” I grumble.

“I’d be happy to pass along a message, though,” he says in the ultra-dry tone that signals his amusement.

“Please do. Tell him if he thinks I’m flattered by his high-handedness, he’s lost his damn mind. And if he has something to say to me, he can put on his big-boy pants and call me himself.”

“You got it.” His voice is warm with approval. “One last thing. Just a suggestion, because I would personally hate for something to happen to you. Stay at a friend’s place for a few nights, okay? Until you can get your own people hired and monitoring.”

I sigh. “Yeah, all right. Here’s Gabe.”

I hand over the phone.