Epilogue
The family therapy practice was in an old bungalow home turned into office space on a street not far from the crystal store Luna had told Nate about. The side yard of the house had been turned into a small parking lot fit for only four cars.
Nate asked if he could drive her for her first day.
His reasoning . . . “What if you’re upset when you leave? You don’t want to drive when you’re crying, or angry.”
The expression on Luna’s face said she didn’t buy it, but she agreed to him driving her anyway.
“This isn’t a onetime thing,” she told him.
“But it’s a first-time thing, and after the first time, you’ll know what to expect.”
Ten minutes before her appointment time, they sat in his car in a lot that didn’t have any other vehicles.
“Do you think she lives in there?” Luna asked, looking at the house.
“I doubt it. Maybe she parks on the street.”
“Looks safe.”
“Getting mugged on the way to therapy would be bad.”
Luna laughed.
God, he loved that sound.
“How was the meeting with the Woo-Woo Club?”
“It was amazing. We conjured up the perfect man for Miley and Jorden.”
“I need to hear all about this.”
Luna shook her head. “Not from me. What happens in the Woo-Woo Club stays in the Woo-Woo Club. Oh, except about Joe.”
“Joe who?”
“Grampa Joe. Jorden seems to think that Joe’s energy is still in the house.”
“Are he and Ethel having a thing?” Nate chuckled.
“Wouldn’t that be cool. But no. Before she left, she said something about Joe keeping secrets. I didn’t tell her anything about his possible Mafia ties.”
Nate stopped laughing. “That’s scary.”
“She’s legit, I’m telling you.”
“I keep meaning to look him up.”
Luna glanced up at the house again. She was nervous, Nate didn’t need to be part of the Woo-Woo Club to sense that.
“I’ll be in there for an hour.”
“I’ll research Seattle’s Mafia, see what good ole Joe was up to,” he said. “Oh, by the way, I talked to my parents last night. They’re coming to town in a couple of weeks. They want to meet you.”
Luna looked surprised. “You told them about me?”
“Of course. I told them about you weeks ago. They assumed my happiness had to be about you. I told them you were stealing my heart. Naturally they want to meet you.”
Luna blinked . . . twice. “Stealing your heart?”
He reached for her hand. Felt fear in her question. “I’m not sure what else to call it. I wasn’t expecting you. You could say I was actively trying to avoid a relationship until I got a foothold on this PI thing. But then you tripped me, and coffee flew everywhere.”
Luna closed her eyes, smiled, and lowered her head.
“I’ve had women try and get my attention before, but that was a new one.”
“You make me laugh,” she told him.
He kissed the back of her hand and waited for her to look him in the eye. “I’m all about smearing your lipstick, Luna. Not your mascara. Unless you’re someone who cries when they’re happy.”
“I am happy.” Her soft smile gave him hope.
“So am I. Stupidly happy. And you are stealing my heart. I need you to know that. If you ever want me to walk in there with you—” He nodded toward the therapy office. “I will. I want us. I want you. No matter what it takes, or how long it takes.”
Luna sniffled and leaned toward him, lifting her lips to his.
He kissed her slowly, lovingly. And when it ended, they didn’t pull away.
“Wait for me,” she whispered.
“I’m right here,” he said as he gently placed his palm on the center of her chest.
She pressed her hand to his. “I gotta go.”
Nate stole another kiss and pulled away. “Go. I’ll be here.”
He watched as one of the bravest women he’d ever met stepped out of the car to face her demons.
Before she got far, she turned around.
Nate lowered the window. “Yeah?”
She was smiling. “Do you have a hedge fund?”
He laughed. “What? No . . . why?”
“Woo-Woo Club.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re going to be late,” he told her.
She waved before disappearing behind the door.
Luna stepped into the bungalow to what would have been a home foyer, on the side of that was a living room that now housed two large sofas and a giant coffee table filled with magazines.
Who read paper magazines anymore? Seattle Living, Psychology Today .
. . not one celebrity tabloid or fashion trope that would have a patient comparing themselves to the unachievable.
Someone thought that through, Luna mused.
There was a fireplace where one should be, only this was filled with fake plants.
The space felt like a home that no one lived in.
She heard footsteps on the creaky old stairs and for a brief second wondered if Ethel had followed her.
“Luna?”
She turned. “You must be Rachel.”
Rachel nodded and they shook hands.
“We have our offices upstairs.”
“Okay.” Luna was led into a revamped bedroom. Carpeted floors, a wall to wall bookshelf, a single chair, and a sofa. Off to the side of that was a similar space, this one with a desk and the kind of lounge sofa depicted in every movie where a patient would lie down and tell their life story.
Luckily, that wasn’t where Rachel encouraged her to sit.
Rachel took the chair opposite the sofa where Luna sat and took in the room.
Soft paintings, and windows that did a good job of providing natural light. And there was a box of Kleenex on every flat surface she could see.
“Would you like some water?” Rachel asked.
Luna shook her head but then said, “Yes.”
Water would be good. Just walking in the room had the back of Luna’s throat aching.
Rachel handed her a mug and sat back down.
Rachel was a small woman, casually dressed with short, wavy salt-and-pepper hair. She smiled with her eyes . . . yes, her lips, but it was her eyes that Luna noticed. Not the color, or the shape . . . but the kindness.
“This is a beautiful old house,” Luna told her.
“Isn’t it? We really like it here. It’s much more comfortable than an office building.”
“That’s true,” Luna said.
Rachel took a tablet and held it in her lap. “I read over your intake form. This is the first time you’ve sought therapy?”
“Outside of a high school counselor, yes.”
She was quiet for a moment.
Where should she start?
“What brought you to therapy at this time?” Rachel asked.
“So many things.”
“Let’s start with one. Ask yourself what it is you want to achieve with therapy. What do you want out of your time here with me?”
Luna’s thoughts drifted to the man waiting in the car.
“I met someone who I’m falling in love with.” Her throat started to close up. “And I can’t help but feel like I’m going to fuck it up and drive him away.”
“Tell me about him.”
Luna smiled through the tears that were already there.
“He . . . he’s a unicorn. Kind, caring, there when you need him.
Funny . . . he makes me laugh. Loving. Smart.
Good-looking but not arrogant.” She thought about that for a second.
“Well, maybe a little arrogant, but not in a bad way. Protective.” Luna nodded with that one. “Very protective.”
“He does sound like a unicorn,” Rachel said.
“Not married, not gay, doesn’t live in his mom’s basement, has a job, no kids, and he cooks. I’m not talking warms up food in the microwave but actually cooks.”
“Wow. So, what’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing.”
“Trustworthy?”
Luna nodded. “Yes,” she said quickly.
Rachel was silent for a moment.
“Some say that when a stranger hurts you, you go through life not trusting others. But when someone close to you hurts you. Someone who should love and protect you, hurts you, you go through life not trusting yourself.” Rachel paused.
Luna stopped staring at her lap and looked up.
“Who was that person in your life?”
Emotion so thick it gripped her neck and chest like a vise crushed in, and the tears started to fall.
“My mother,” Luna whispered.
Rachel took a deep breath, her kind smile was gone and replaced with cautious understanding and compassion.
“Tell me about your mother.”