Chapter Nineteen
Nineteen
“DISCONNECTION IS A NATURAL PART OF LONG-TERM relationships,” Emma said gently to the elderly couple in front of her. Frank and Connie Torres had been married for nearly sixty-five years. They had survived the loss of a child, three cancer diagnoses (two for him, one for her) and a criminal accountant who ate up a considerable amount of their hard-earned savings. But the thing that had finally brought them to therapy was Frank’s iPhone.
“Believe me, I know that,” Connie replied. “But how are we supposed to reconnect if he won’t put his damn phone down?”
“It’s down right now!” Frank bellowed. Emma was having a hard time discerning if his high decibel was due to emotion or hearing loss.
“I can see you gripping it through your pants right now,” Connie countered.
Frank looked down at his lap and was surprised to see that he was in fact holding his phone through his pants pocket.
Emma braced herself for his response. Would he try to explain it away with some made-up excuse? Would he attempt to turn the tables and attack her for always being so critical of him? People were often their worst selves when caught.
But instead of doing any of those things, Frank merely shouted, “Whoops,” and he and Connie erupted into laughter. Emma breathed a sigh of relief. They were going to be fine.
“For homework, why don’t you both try to have at least one phone-free hour a day. And then we’ll check in to see how it went next week,” Emma said as she stood up to signal the end of their session.
“Fine, but I get to pick the hour,” Frank insisted as Connie helped him up from the sofa.
“As long as it’s one of the hours you’re both normally awake, that works for me,” Emma replied.
“She’s on to you,” Connie teased as they shuffled toward the exit. Emma opened the door and let out a slight gasp when she saw Will sitting in her waiting room.
“See you next week,” Emma said in what she hoped was a normal voice. She waited until the Torreses were safely outside before turning to the annoyingly charismatic man sitting in front of her.
“Sorry, but I’m not accepting new clients at this time.”
“That’s too bad,” Will replied as he stood up and walked himself into her office. “You have great Yelp reviews.”
It was true. She hovered around a 4.5, which was higher than most.
“What are you doing here?” Emma asked, leaning against the doorframe. She watched as Will moved around the room, inspecting the details of her professional environment. Luckily, in the tradition of most therapists, they were rather sparse. Family photos revealed too much, and any artwork had to be nonoffensive and bordering on dull so as not to ignite too much of a reaction from her clients.
“I was in the neighborhood for a meeting and wanted to share some good news. We’ve officially been greenlit for a full season of the podcast.”
“Wait, we weren’t greenlit before?”
Will shrugged as he sat down on the couch, flung his bag on the ground and spread his arms out. “It was basically a technicality. My bosses needed to hear a test episode to get a better sense of the show before committing to paying for it. I knew they’d go for it, which is why I didn’t want to worry you.”
“So instead you had me tell my friends and family that I was making a podcast before I was officially making a podcast?”
Will grinned. “Hey, if my tactics work out in the end I’m not allowed to be in trouble.”
“I never agreed to those terms.”
“Would you agree to them now?” He raised his eyebrows at her in what her heart could only interpret as a flirtatious manner. Emma let out a groan of frustration, both at his question and herself.
Only fourteen hours ago, Will had been the furthest thing from her mind as she’d melted into Matt. But now that they were in the same room again, she couldn’t deny that Will still had a pull over her. She knew she had to ask him to leave even if she wanted him to stay.
“No deal. But thanks for the enticing offer.” Emma moved back toward the door, hoping he’d get the hint. “And thank you for delivering the good news in person. It was quite a thrill to learn something I thought I already knew.”
“Wait, before you kick me out…” Will leaned down and opened his bag, pulling out his laptop. “I thought we could record a bit. Get a feel for your workspace.”
“Can’t I just describe my office to you next time?”
“Not the same thing. I want to capture the ambient noise of this specific room. It will give the show more character.”
Emma had no idea what he was talking about—her office didn’t sound like anything other than the occasional struggle of an overextended air-conditioning unit. But Will was looking at her with puppy dog eyes and…
No! She had to stand strong against his charm. This was her place of work, where she was a professional with boundaries. Even if his arms looked delightfully freckled in his formfitting T-shirt.
“Sorry, but now’s not a good time. My sessions are over for the day and my colleague is about to arrive.”
As if on cue, Imani threw open the front door that led into the waiting room and shouted, “I hate all of my clients.”
“I knew it,” Will declared, unseen from inside the office, catching Imani off guard. “I knew you had to hate at least some of them.”
“Oh, fu— I didn’t realize you were still in session…” Imani stammered, checking her watch as Emma watched with amusement through the doorway. It was the most thrown Emma had ever seen her and Emma couldn’t resist having a little fun.
“We were just wrapping up.”
“Of course, yes. Let me just go wait in the car.” Imani started to backtrack until Will revealed himself in the doorframe and grinned. Imani stopped and considered his face, which was instantly familiar from all the times Emma had shown her his Hinge profile.
Emma burst out laughing.
“What the hell is going on?” Imani asked, instantly back to her in-control self.
“Imani, this is Will, my troublesome podcast producer you’ve heard so much about. Will, this is Imani, my coworker and favorite friend in the world,” Emma said with flourish. “Will stopped by unexpectedly and without permission to tell me our podcast has officially been picked up by his network.”
“It wasn’t already picked up?” Imani asked, as confused as Emma had been moments earlier.
“Consider it a technicality that is still worth celebrating,” Will replied as he offered his hand to Imani.
Imani glared at him instead of shaking it. “You made me think I was about to lose my license.”
“I’m sorry. I just always wondered if therapists actually liked their patients or not. And now I know. They hate them.”
“I don’t hate my clients,” Imani clarified. “I was just frustrated because my four-o’clock canceled again and I know it’s going to be a hassle to get them to pay for it anyway. Even though it explicitly states in our starting paperwork that—” Imani suddenly lost interest in what she was saying. “Never mind. I’ll deal with it later.”
“What just happened?” Will asked, bewildered by her sudden switch in tone and energy.
“Emotional regulation,” Emma responded. “Now, let’s get out of her way.”
Will turned toward Imani. “Actually, if you suddenly have a free hour, I’d love to interview you for the show.”
“You want to interview me ? About what?”
“Your thoughts on the whole Save My Date thing—as both Emma’s friend and a relationship expert.”
Imani raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows and looked at Emma. “Are you okay with that?”
“Not even a little bit,” Emma answered honestly. “But I don’t want to be accused of avoiding criticism to push my own agenda.”
Will clapped his hands together with excitement. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
***
After some maneuvering, the group decided it would be best for Imani to sit in the therapist chair while Emma and Will shared the couch. Will put a shotgun mic on the coffee table and aimed it away from himself because Imani’s audio was the priority. He could always rerecord his questions later in the studio. Emma tried not to think about Will’s leg being so dangerously close to hers.
“Want to start off by introducing yourself to the audience?” Will asked.
“Fine,” Imani said as rolled her eyes. Despite the theatrics, Emma knew she was enjoying herself; once someone got her best friend talking it was hard to get her to stop. “My name is Imani Harris. I’m a marriage and family therapist from San Diego who now co-runs a private practice in Los Angeles with Emma Moskowitz. I combine an integrative approach with an emphasis on Emotional Focused Therapy, or EFT.”
“And what exactly is EFT?”
“It’s a modality that focuses on helping couples by exploring the root of their emotions and learning how to be emotionally vulnerable with each other.”
“Sounds awful,” Will joked.
Neither woman laughed.
“It’s one of the most evidence-based treatments available to couples in need,” Imani countered, completely stone-faced.
“I was just kidding. I’m sure—” Will noticed both therapists were now holding back smiles. “ And you’re fucking with me.”
“Seemed only fair,” Imani replied with a grin.
Will laughed, just as happy to be the target of a joke as the instigator. “How would you describe your relationship with Emma?”
“Cordial at best.”
“Hey!” Emma protested. “I take you to all your doctor’s appointments.”
Imani had a huge fear of needles, so whenever she needed a blood test or vaccine, Emma had to tag along and attempt to distract her. It was one of the ways they’d gotten so close so fast. During their first class together, Imani needed to get a flu shot but kept putting it off until Emma insisted on going with her, and the tradition was born.
“My relationship with Emma Moskowitz is one filled with professional and personal respect, familial-level love and lots of cheap Mexican food. I feel lucky every day that she is such a huge part of my life.” Imani said this completely deadpan, which was how she often expressed positive emotion. Therapists were works in progress, just like everyone else.
“I’m going to need multiple copies of that tape,” Emma declared. “I want to listen to it every night as I fall asleep.”
Imani groaned in what Emma suspected was fake annoyance.
“How would you describe Emma’s relationship history since you’ve known her?” Will asked. Imani immediately looked at Emma for permission to speak openly.
“You can be honest.” For all her flaws, Emma had never been someone to hide her failings. How could she hope to get better if she never admitted that she needed to?
“Whew, okay,” Imani said, putting her feet up and getting comfortable. “When I first met this one in grad school, she was—how do I put this delicately?—a total disaster. She would go on one date and become convinced he was the love of her life. And if one of these losers didn’t text her back right away, she’d have a full-blown spiral and leap to the conclusion that she was totally unlovable and destined to die alone. Absolutely no ability to self-soothe or think rationally when it came to dating.”
“Do you dispute any of this?” Will asked, turning to Emma.
“Nope. One time a guy called me on the way to our third date to say I had been texting him too much that day, so he was turning around. It was kind of nice that he bothered to call.”
“Was he the one who called you a stage-five clinger?” Imani asked, amused by the memory.
“No, that was the lawyer in Pasadena.” Emma turned to Will. “In hindsight I can see how surprising someone at home is only romantic in the movies.”
“I’m going to switch from my objective-journalist hat to Emma’s-short-term-fling hat for a second and say I didn’t experience this type of behavior with you at all.”
“I never really liked you that much,” Emma teased. If Will had even an inkling of how much she had liked him—and maybe still did—he would also be running for the hills of Pasadena.
“Lie.” Imani snorted, completely blowing Emma’s cover. “Will, I bet I could quote your entire Hinge profile after how many times she showed it to me.”
Emma felt her face turn warm and her heart speed up due to the all-too-familiar feeling of embarrassment. The last thing she needed was for Will to know she was obsessed with him.
“Really?” Will said with a grin and a nudge to Emma’s right arm. “I had no idea. I felt like I was the one pursuing you.”
“Until I brought up my plan and you fled,” Emma countered with a touch of bitterness.
“That’s not exactly how I remember it going down,” Will replied before refocusing his attention on Imani and expertly avoiding an argument. “Did Emma’s behavior change once she met Ryan?”
“It changed before they met. Emma knew she was pushing people away by being too intense, so she worked on herself and got better at dating.”
“Better how?”
“More… I don’t want to say chill because we are talking about Emma, but maybe that’s the best way to describe it. Every date wasn’t life-or-death anymore. And she did a better job of letting go of guys who weren’t worth her time. Except for this guy Tony, but we all have an Achilles’ heel. Mine is the legendary Holland Taylor and this one straight girl from my gym.”
“She’s not going to leave her husband,” Emma interjected.
“You don’t know that for sure,” Imani countered before asking Will, “Who’s your Achilles’ heel?”
Not me , Emma thought with a dash of self-pity.
“I don’t think I have one,” he replied.
“Oh, come on,” Emma prodded. “There isn’t a single person living or dead who you wouldn’t do anything to be with?”
“Living or dead?” Will asked. “No.”
Imani nodded as though something was clicking together for her. “Let me guess. You’re a pragmatist.”
“Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?”
“I’m not. I mostly am too. It just explains why you weren’t open to Emma’s plan, even though you clearly like her. You don’t engage with things that haven’t already been proven to work.”
“Hmm,” Will said as he leaned back and crossed his arms. He seemed to be considering Imani’s point logically instead of emotionally, which was a major turn-on for Emma. “I see what you’re saying but I wouldn’t call my career choice pragmatic. Podcasting is a relatively new industry and shows get canceled all the time.”
“Yeah, but for a creative career, being a producer is the most pragmatic choice. It’s not like you’re trying to be an actor or make it as a musician while waiting tables. You go into an office and have a steady salary with benefits.”
“Not good benefits though,” Will retorted cleverly.
Imani laughed and looked at Emma. “You were right. He is funny. Are you sure you can’t convince him to marry you?”
Emma forced a laugh and an eye roll. Even though she had secretly been wondering the same thing.