Chapter 28
Nic
Turns out I didn’t have to tell my sister. The internet told her for me. The news breaks minutes before I arrive at Leslie’s house.
By the time I step through Leslie’s door, she already knows everything—and she’s in a state.
Her laptop is open on the kitchen counter, headlines screaming, and I feel like I’ve walked straight into a courtroom where I’m both defendant and witness.
Leslie’s glare tells me I won’t get to choose which role I play first.
“Is it true?” she asks, her usual steellike composure cracking under the pressure of the situation.
I nod. “It is,” I say.
“You have a thing with Avery? Your client?”
“She’s not my client anymore. I broke that off as soon as…”
“As soon as what?” Leslie does a double-take, as though the news is only hitting her fully just now. “When did—How long?” she mumbles.
I sit her down and tell her everything I can share with a sibling.
About how it all ignited at her birthday party.
About how Avery and I both tried to ignore our feelings because of the price I would have to pay for them but, despite that, failed miserably at forgetting each other.
And about my plan to wind down my practice before coming clean to the Board of Psychology.
Leslie buries her head in her hands. “I can’t believe this,” she whispers. “You’re willing to lose your license over this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” Leslie looks up. “Nic, this is insane.”
“I know it is, and I know how it looks.” I take a breath. “I understand that you’re shocked, but… I think I’m in love with Avery. In fact, I don’t have to think about it anymore. I know it. It’s clear as day.”
“Yeah, but Nic, come on.” The old Leslie is starting to come back. “She was still your client. You’re not like that. You’re my sister. I know you, and I know that much.”
“I’m not like what?” I ask.
“The type of person to have an affair with your client—that is such a serious breach of ethics. That’s not how you are. The number of people I have referred to you. I got Avery her first appointment with you because I trust you with my life.”
“You can still trust me, Les.” I look around for a bottle of something. I could do with a drink. Leslie doesn’t follow my cue. She’s too preoccupied with processing what happened. “And no matter what you say or think, I’ve thought it myself already.”
“Are you saying that you actually thought this through?”
“Not at first, obviously. That was… wrong. I shouldn’t have slept with her while she was still my client. I do see that, but… what can I say? This is life. This is how it goes sometimes. I made a mistake, but I also believe that I made this particular mistake for a very good reason.”
“Are you really in love with her?” Leslie pulls her lips into a pout as though Avery is the opposite of a smoking-hot A-list actor—or maybe that pout is aimed at me, at her own flesh and blood.
“I really am. And it’s mutual,” I add before she can inquire.
“Love does work in mysterious ways.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, Nic. I just thought that… when you finally found love again it wouldn’t be with my superstar client who is also twenty years younger than you.”
“I’m as surprised as you are,” I admit. “But that is exactly what has happened.”
Leslie takes a breath, then pushes herself out of her chair.
“I need to call Avery,” she says. “We need to discuss this.”
I can only nod while Leslie looks around for her phone.
“Her movie just came out. The studio’s not going to be very happy with this.” At last, Leslie walks to her well-stocked liquor cabinet.
“Can’t we just deny the whole thing? Isn’t TMZ’s reputation that they only publish the most flagrant lies?”
“We could if it weren’t true.” Without asking what I want, Leslie pours us each a generous glass of scotch.
“But it’s nobody’s business.”
“While that is technically true, it won’t stop the headlines from multiplying, or the studio from demanding answers. They’ve just sunk millions into marketing Avery’s new rom-com, and this is not the story they want competing with the movie.” She hands me my drink.
“She was in Queer Girl Summer before.”
“This story is not about Avery being with another woman, Nic. It’s about the other woman being her therapist.” Leslie takes a sip, then grabs her phone. “Give me a sec while I call her.”
Avery hasn’t expressed any concern about her reputation or how this might affect the box office of her new movie. Knowing her, she probably doesn’t care—but other people surely do.
“She’s coming over,” Leslie says after hanging up. She sits down on the coffee table in front of me, her knees almost touching mine. “I’m sorry that I haven’t yet acknowledged your feelings for Avery.”
I take a sip of my drink and swallow slowly. “She makes me feel something I thought was gone forever. After Lois…” I stop, because, sometimes—especially in emotionally fraught situations—saying her name still feels like pressing on a bruise.
Leslie’s hand closes over mine. “I know,” she says softly. “I thought you’d never let anyone in again. So if Avery makes you feel like that, even if it’s complicated, I can’t judge you for that. You do know I’m not judging you?”
I stare into my drink. “Can you help me manage my reputation as well, please? Control the damage?”
“I will do anything I can to help you. Whatever it takes.”
“It wasn’t supposed to come out this way.
I asked Avery to keep it a secret so I would have some time to wind down my practice.
That’s not something you do in a week’s time.
I care about my clients, some of whom have been with me for a long time.
And now they’re seeing this?” I take another much-needed sip. “Now it all goes to fucking hell.”
“I’m sorry.” Leslie gets up and falls onto the couch next to me. “Let me think about how to handle all this.”
But, despite my earlier request, I don’t need my sister to deal with the fallout of my decisions. I’m a big girl. I can face the consequences of my actions.
My phone rings—again. I check the screen in case it’s Avery. But it’s Jan. Oh, damn.
I pick up because it’s the very least I owe her.
“You told me it was over, Nic,” she launches straight into it. “You promised me.”
“I’m sorry.” What follows is one of the most harrowing silences of my life—all unspoken accusation and harsh judgment—but when your wife has died in a car crash you at least learn to put things into perspective.
This is not a call telling me that Avery’s car has been in an accident on the way over, which is the only call I truly wouldn’t be able to deal with. Although that hardly makes this easy.
“You’ve made me complicit,” Jan says. Ouch. “And you’ve left me no choice but to tell the board.” Another silence. “Also, Nic, this is no way to treat a friend.”
“I know, Jan. I’m so sorry.”
“So am I,” is the last thing she says before abruptly ending the call.
“Who was that?” Leslie asks.
“Avery’s new therapist. My friend Jan. Possibly former friend from now on.”
“People are going to need some time to absorb this shock, Nic. Especially if they were involved.”
“Yeah.” I drain my glass and hold it up for a refill.
When Avery arrives, I wrap my arms around her—even if it feels strange to do it in front of my sister.
I may no longer be afforded an exit with some dignity left, but at least I have her.
Still, I let go quickly. Who knows who might’ve followed her, or whether there’s a telescopic lens aimed through Leslie’s windows. In this town, you never really know.
Avery refuses a glass of scotch, opting for water as usual. The three of us huddle around the dining table where my sister was supposed to serve me a meal. I’ve lost all appetite.
“Avery,” Leslie says. “How are you? What are your feelings about this?” For a Hollywood agent, my sister’s very empathetic—the most important quality for the job, she once told me, despite the reputation of her profession.
“I don’t care.” She fixes her gaze on me. “I just care about Nic and what this means for her.”
Her simply being here has dissolved the worst of my stress, but hearing her say that, while she looks me in the eye, makes me care less about the consequences as well.
“Yeah. Well.” I can tell Leslie’s trying to sound more upbeat than she feels for the sake of her client—and my sake as well. “I don’t think we can do a lot about that.”
“I will write my letter to the board first thing tomorrow. Informing them… of what they already know.”
“Don’t tell them you slept with me when I was still your client,” Avery says. “What does it even matter now? You’re already losing everything.”
The strain this puts our fragile beginnings under is enormous, yet she handles it with such grace. She’s Avery Hall. She doesn’t need this. She could walk away so easily, yet she’s right here.
“I told Jan and I don’t think she’s on my side any longer.” I shake my head. “No more lies, okay? It’s the only way forward.”
Leslie rubs her temples, then glances at Avery. “Why couldn’t you have fallen for your accountant instead?” she says.
“Because he’s a middle-aged man and excruciatingly boring,” Avery deadpans.
I can’t help but chuckle and it takes the edge off some more.
“What’s so special about my sister, anyway?” I’m not sure if Leslie means that as a joke or a genuine question.
“You really want me to answer that?” Avery sounds instantly combative.
Leslie shakes her head. “Of course not.” She smiles at Avery, then at me. “She’s my sister. Of course, she’s amazing.” She takes a breath. “I’ll deal with the studio. That’s my job.”
“Thanks, Les.” Avery’s lucky to have someone like Leslie in her corner.
“I need to get used to this.” Leslie waves her hand from me to Avery and back. “To the two of you together.”
“Because we are two ladies?” Avery jokes, resting her head on my shoulder.
“Pfft.” Leslie scoffs. “Fifty percent of my client base is gay these days.”
It reminds me: I should call Derek soon.
“You did recommend Nic to me,” Avery says. “You’re kind of responsible for this.”
“Oh, really?” Leslie arches an eyebrow. “Did I push you into my sister’s bed?” She waves off Avery’s quip. “I had absolutely no notion of this at my birthday party.”
“See, you’re doubly responsible.” Avery must be stressed, because she’s pushing it. But I’m no longer her therapist. Under the table, I put my hand on her knee and give it a little squeeze, hoping that she will catch my drift. “I’m sorry, Leslie. It’s a lot,” she says, seamlessly taking my cue.
Leslie exhales, then reaches across the table to cover both our hands with hers. “It is a lot,” she says. “But you’re not alone in this. Neither of you.” Her gaze flicks between us. “We’ll figure this out.” She curls her lips into a smile. “And by the way, I’m very happy for you.”