Page 23 of Must Have Been Love

“She could…” he muses. “But from a therapeutic point of view it would help Ayda feel more relaxed if she knows you want this party as much as she does.”

“How do you know she wants this party?” I ask, because as much as I pay this man, I’m pretty sure he’s not a mind reader.

“When I asked her about it she lit up.” He shrugs. “And then she saw your expression and the light immediately went out.”

Ah fuck. “She did?”

He nods. “She loves you. She wants to please you. I don’t know if you realize how often she looks at you for approval, but I see it all the time. Maybe next week I’ll video our session and show you.”

My jaw tightens. “It’s just been a bad week.”

“How so?” Dr. Methi leans forward, suddenly interested. The man thrives off actually breaking through my barriers.

“Nothing. Just work and island issues.” I cross my arms over my chest. “But back to the invitations, what if we just address them together? I have meetings all week.”

“Do you think that would work?” Dr. Methi asks, turning it back on me. The asshole looks smug, because he knows the answer.

“I don’t know,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. Another fucking headache is threatening. “Isn’t thatyourjob to know?”

He says nothing for a moment. I look out of the window at the blue sky with little wispy clouds, wishing I was anywhere but here.

But I have to be here. Ayda needs it, and I need her to heal. To get over the trauma of being taken to a different country, losing her mom, and then being brought back here to a life she can barely remember.

Christ, I hate this. I hate that she’s been through so much at such a young age. I hate myself for letting it happen. She’s the center of my fucking world and I let her down.

“Is everything okay?” the doctor asks, his voice more gentle than I’ve ever heard it. “You seem more… tense than usual.”

I bring my eyes back to his. Is he being serious right now? “Of course I’m tense. I’m running a multimillion dollar business. I have a daughter who won’t speak, a sister who seems to think inviting strangers into my house to celebrate my daughter’s birthday is a great idea, and a fucking woman who seems to have a personal mission to drive me to distraction.”

The words come out in a stream of consciousness. Methi doesn’t even lift his brows.

“What woman?” he asks.

“I’m sorry?”

“What woman is driving you to distraction? Are you seeing somebody?”

I frown. “Of course I’m not.”

Immediately the image of her mouth comes into my mind. The way her lips were so fucking soft as she clashed eyes with me.

The way I got hard in response. Once upon a time I would have fucked her out of my thoughts. I’d have shown her that I’m not the stuffed up asshole she thinks I am.

But that was then. This is now.

Dr. Methi tips his head to the side. “It would be okay if you were. It might be good for you. And for Ayda, in time. I’d be very happy to work with you on the best way to introduce her to a new romantic attachment.”

“I don’t have any romantic attachments,” I tell him firmly. “And if I did, I wouldn’t need to work with you on them.” The mere thought sends ice through my veins.

“Maybe that’s the problem,” he murmurs. “Maybe you should be having attachments.”

Jesus Christ. As if my week hasn’t been bad enough. “How much do I pay you?” I ask him.

“I don’t know,” he says, not even blinking at my question. “But I can have my billing department resend you the invoices if you’d like.”

This is the problem with an emotionally intelligent man like Dr. Methi. He knows exactly how to respond to me.

He’ll never engage in a back and forth with me. He’ll just diffuse the situation and move on. That’s what he’s trained to do. And it pisses me off.

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