Page 87 of The Billionaire Bodyguard Next Door

When the person in front of us finished ordering, we scooted up and Beck began rattling off our order, starting with a cappuccino for me, an Americano for him, and a hot chocolate for the little miss.

“And a raspberry white chocolate scone, please,” Alice chimed in. Beck added a few more pastries to the order, enough for us and our friends.

The barista read back the order, and Beck paid while Alice and I combed through the books in the little free library in the corner. I flicked through the romance novels and found an illustrated cover with a hunky hockey player kissing a redhead and immediately tucked it under my arm. Not that I had time to read, but maybe I’d make an exception.

We took our food and drinks to go, and I kept checking the time on my watch.

The second we arrived at Sebastian’s home, I leaped out of the car, gave my friend a quick hug and told her I’d see her shortly. Faith must have been used to my kind of crazy because she didn’t even bat an eye.

“See you soonish?” she said before greeting Beck and Alice.

I passed Willow on my way inside. “Willow, this way, girly.”

The black lab wagged her tail so hard, she damn near fell over. The precious girl trotted behind me as I escaped to my regular guest room and got my laptop ready for my call.

“Morning, Dr. Wozniac.”

My therapist smiled and lifted her glasses from where they’d hung around her neck. “Hello, Luna. It’s nice to see you. Is that a new room?”

I crossed my legs in the oversized chair in the room, my laptop perched on a stack of books that sat on the side table next to the bed. Willow curled up on the ground in front of me.

“Yes, I’m at a friend’s house today.”

She lowered her glasses onto the bridge of her nose like she probably had a dozen times already today. The little movement was one I’d come to expect from her in our little time together. “And how do you feel about that latest episode ofHousewives?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. In the initial paperwork I signed with this therapist, she told me that a safe space was conducive to healing. If I ever felt like I wasn’t in a safe space but couldn’t say so aloud, I was given a safe word of sorts.

“Tamra really shouldn’t have thrown that napkin.”

With a little nod, Dr. Wozniac’s glasses found their rightful place. “Very good. Now tell me about your week so far. How’s your body feeling? Any migraines?”

We focused on my physical health first. The brain and the body were connected, and the body often kept the score. It also gave me something easy to focus on—it didn’t feel like diving into the deep end without floaties on.

I pulled the fuzzy blanket from the basket next to me and placed it on my lap. “Nope, migraine free. I managed some meditation also and my sleep has been improving.” This last bit I said as I broke into a yawn. “So, last night I didn’t get too much, actually.”

She tapped the notepad with her pen. “Tell me about that.”

And I did. I told her everything between Beck and me, forever grateful that Sebastian sprung for soundproof walls in this upstate retreat of his. I could talk and talk without fear that anyone would overhear.

Especially the bit about the blow job. I had to give her credit; Dr. W. didn’t even flinch when I mentioned I’d gone down on him.

“Physical intimacy is nothing to be ashamed of, dear.” She’d firmly told me during our first session together after I explained the impetus for seeking her out.

“How did you feel when you were with him?”

No other prompting, just an open-ended question without trying to get me to say one way or the other.

“I felt like me. I felt empowered, like I wanted something, and he clearly wanted it too, and so I did it.”

“Did you flinch?”

I sat up straighter. “Nope.”

She hummed. “Very good. This is a promising step forward, I want you to acknowledge that, Luna. It’s important to measure success along the way. It’s not just the end goal that matters.”

I nodded, understanding why she said that and still not feeling like it was quite enough.

Dr. Wozniac made a face as if sensing my inner monologue, and I wanted to reach through my laptop and pick up that little notepad she always had with her. “And how do you think you’d react if he had wanted to touch you?”

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