Page 105 of The Last Session

I hadn’t expected the conversation to go in this direction.

“Not that they’ve ever been romantic,” Sol went on. “That’s just who she is. We’re in an open relationship, so I deal with that too. But it’s a natural part of being nonmonogamous. You have to be really good at communication.”

His eyes were still squeezed closed, so I took the opportunity to study him. Was this his way of letting me know he was available? I’d never considered myself nonmonogamous, even though I knew people—like Dom—who it seemed to work great for. This, however, seemed like way more of a danger zone, given Moon and Sol’s healership positions.

“Do you meet people on retreats?” I asked casually.

He rolled his head in my direction, peeked open one eye. “Sometimes. But only when they’re here longer-term. And only when they’ve done a lot of processing first. Otherwise, I’m just taking advantage, right?”

Right! This was the reason it was beyond unethical for therapists to date clients. There was a clear power differential, as well as a commonphenomenon called “erotic transference.” This was when clients became attracted to their therapist because of the dynamics stirred up in the work. But since Moon and Sol weren’t licensed, their licenses couldn’t be revoked. There was nothing holding them back but their own morals.

“That’s great that you’re so thoughtful about that.” I smiled sweetly, sure he wouldn’t sense my sarcasm.

He raised his glass. “We try to be thoughtful about everything we do here.” He took a gulp. “You know, I heard you’re an artist. We could set up a studio for you. All you’d have to do all day is make art, eat good food, and relax in the hot tub.”

In another world, one in which this was just a community and not a cult, that would’ve actually sounded tempting. After all, what did I have to look forward to back in New York? A stressful job? Moving in with strangers? Dating apps? It all felt so gray, compared to the bright colors and gentle breeze that I woke up to here daily.

Living in a place like this was a nice fantasy, but just that—a fantasy.

“Thanks.” I nodded. “That’s a really generous offer. I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” He finished his glass and stood. “I need to go help set up. But feel free to relax, use the pool. Whatever you’d like. We’ll have our session before dinner.”

Sol left his glass on a table, so as soon as I finished mine I carried both through the dining room and into the kitchen. Steven was washing an enormous pile of dishes. He’d served more Indian food for lunch, and the smell of ginger, garlic, and turmeric filled the small, hot space.

“Hey.” I set the glasses on top of more glasses on the counter. “Can I help with that?”

“No,” he grunted back without looking at me. A boom box that looked like it was from the 2000s blasted heavy metal.

I leaned against the counter. “So when’s Talia getting back?”

His head whipped towards me. “What?” His mouth was tight, his eyes wide with shock.

“Oh, sorry.” I took a step back. “Sol was just telling me about her. That she was traveling. So I just wondered when she was coming back.”

Steven stared at me for a few more seconds, then dropped the pot he’d been scrubbing. Bubbles flew up as he turned and stalked out of the room.

So maybe Taliawasn’tcoming back. But then why would Sol tell me that? So that I might mention it to Steven and upset him?

Who knew what dynamics were here beneath the surface. As I left the kitchen, an icy chill traversing my shoulders, I focused on one thought:

Four a.m. couldn’t come fast enough.

43

“Everyone! Time to gather!” Moon popped out of the dome in a bikini top and shorts.

“Wonderful,” Jonah muttered sarcastically. We both stood. From the veranda, we’d watched them build the dome over the last several hours, the activity so frenzied that I’d asked if Jonah and I could help—which Moon had nixed with a dismissive wave. First the rounded wooden skeleton had gone up, like the spine of a huge tent. Then they’d covered it in blankets and finally sheets of canvas. Sol and Steven had carried in large stones on pitchforks; they’d heated them in a huge fire at the pit.

Now, I could feel the heat coming off the structure, radiating like a sunburn. I could only imagine what it felt like inside.

Apparently, our “special” session was going to take place in a sweat lodge. I was someone who avoided saunas at the gym: the thick heat made it too hard to breathe.

How was I going to get out of this?

“Moon.” I cleared my throat. “I really appreciate you guys going through the trouble. But…” God, this felt like the hot tub all over again.I’m not really comfortable.

“Let me guess.” She grinned. “You hate hot spaces like this.”

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