“No. Have you met you? You’re at my house a few nights a week and are kind of distracting,” she said, attempting to lighten the conversation. “Makes it hard to consider other options. Go on an awkward date with a stranger, or hang out and get naked with the hot friend I’m already sleeping with? No contest.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and her face grew warm. She hated,hatedbeing this vulnerable. She was the therapist, dammit, the cool-under-pressure one. Right now she felt like her preteen self about to get crushed by her crush.

“Why do you like me?” he asked finally.

“Oh my God,” she said, throwing a hand up in exasperation. “Seriously, Beck? I lay out an embarrassing I-can’t-handle-the-arrangement declaration and you want me to stroke your ego?”

He made a frustrated sound. “It’s not about my ego. I just…want to know what you mean.”

She groaned and got up from her desk chair so she could pace off the anxious energy coursing through her. “I mean that I thought this would be about sex—and that part has been great, really great—but the other part is the problematic part.”

“The other part?”

“Yes, there’s like this…comfort level I feel when I’m with you. Like all these years I’ve been going on these dates, and no matter the guy, there’s a layer of pretense there—on both sides. It always feels like I’m starring in a play I didn’t audition for. Like after dates with Will, I look back on the night and think,Who was that woman on the date with him? It certainly wasn’t me.But with you, maybe because we started out how we did, I don’t have the urge to put a shine on myself. I’m just the me I am when I’m with my friends. Except unlike with my other friends, I’m sleeping with you.”

“And that’s a problem,” he said, tone flat.

“Yes. Because I love my friends,” she said, putting her hand to her chest. “But I’m not allowed to love the friend I’m sleeping with. Because then it’s no longer a friendship—it’s a heartbreak waiting to happen. I have to stop this before it gets to that point. I’m not a masochist. And I shouldn’t be missing you like this. It’s a sign. A bad one.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and she started to wonder if the call had dropped, but then his voice cut through the silence. “What are you doing tonight?”

His words startled her. “What?”

“Are you going out? Home? What?”

She rubbed her forehead, a headache brewing. “Home.”

“We shouldn’t have this conversation over the phone,” he said, sounding a little rushed. “I’m heading back to the city and have to stop at home first, but I can be at your place by seven. I’ll bring food. Is that okay?”

Awkward conversation in person, even better.Hurrah.But she found herself nodding. She was a grown woman. They should talk about it in person. “All right.”

“Okay. It’s a plan then. And Eliza,” he said softly.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

Then he hung up.