Chapter 39 Seemingly Impossible
SEEMINGLY IMPOSSIBLE
Michelle
“I’m very flattered by the offer, Denis. I truly am. But I want you to know what’s been going on here. I don’t want you to walk into a situation unaware,” I said, holding the phone to my ear as I leaned against the counter in my tiny kitchen.
The smell of coffee filled the air as I waited for it to finish brewing. It was early morning, and I had one thing on my calendar—Shayla. She was my only appointment today, but damn it, I was going to give her my all. It was step one of rebuilding, just like Davis had told me.
Life is a brutal game. Sometimes the bad guy wins. Sometimes no matter how hard you fight, you lose anyway. But you take the hits, pick yourself up, and start over. That’s what I was doing. That’s why I had spoken to Caroline about what had gone down.
“I heard some silly chatter about your private life, and I chose to ignore it. I do not judge people by what they do in private. I don’t care what you do behind closed doors,” Denis said, his calm, measured accent cutting through the phone, reminding me of the last time I’d been happy.
My throat tightened, and I wanted to hug him through the line.
His words were the first sign of hope in what felt like forever.
Since Paris, when hope was everywhere. Paris, the place I missed more than I expected. Paris, a place where I felt…free.
“I appreciate that, Denis. But I need to make sure it’s not going to be a problem,” I said, sharing more of the details about what had happened.
He paused, and I held my breath. I tensed, bracing for him to say he was rescinding the offer. I didn’t even know if I was going to take it, but I couldn’t handle more rejection.
“You were cleared by the ethics board?” he asked, his voice even.
“Yes.” I had Jack to thank for that. The graying man in charge of the board had called me earlier this week, explaining how Jack had shown up without being asked, laid everything bare, and taken ownership of his business interests’ interference in our relationship.
Then he pulled out the receipts. That had sealed the decision in my favor.
Nick had actually attempted to discredit me with fake claims, which were dismissed as a ridiculous stunt once Jack played them the recording where he admitted to it all.
The board would be covering the legal costs of the complaint for fraud, and I was weighing the emotional costs of suing Nick for libel.
I’d been assured my case was airtight and he’d likely settle.
But did I really want to take the chance of going to court and watching the media circus rehash my sex life?
No, even though Jack had also found Nick’s weak spot.
The man never brought up that he’d been punched.
When I put on my therapist hat, I could easily presume a guy like him wouldn’t want anyone to know he’d been pummeled.
Like he fucking deserved.
“That is all I need to know,” Denis said. “The offer stands. We would like you to come work with our practice. We need someone like you.”
“I’ll think about it and get back to you,” I said, thanking him before hanging up, and I couldn't deny his offer held a particular appeal. I let my mind return to my favorite city, picturing myself working there, living there, enjoying myself there. Something about it soothed my soul. The offer? No, it was the city that did that. Beauty for beauty’s sake.
Just like I believed in pleasure for pleasure’s sake.
Those two seemed to go hand in hand and Paris embraced both.
But I wasn’t sure it could be that easy.
Especially when everything right now was so hard.
After my session with Shayla ended, I found myself back in the same spot I’d been all week—sitting at my desk with nothing to do.
My calendar was blank. My chair spun idly as I twirled in circles, staring at the emptiness on my screen until my Giverny screensaver clicked on.
Ten years of hard work. Ten years of building my reputation and earning the trust of my colleagues had all led to this—nothing.
If this was what reinvention looked like, it stunk.
When the article dropped the next morning, I almost missed the quiet though.
Caroline’s story was objectively fantastic—she wove together themes of intimacy in one’s private life with the intimacy of a close-knit community, highlighted how the strength of soulless rich guys can be broken by the strength of that community.
And of course, she cleared my name.
The phone had started ringing at once. Everyone picking up the story wanted a quote from me (“I’m grateful the truth is out there, but I’m asking for the privacy I need to do my job effectively”) until news of Eden’s lawsuit against Conroy hit.
Later that day, Nick got arrested, followed by Conroy.
The DA said it fell into organized crime, and expected to bring many more charges.
I stopped even answering the phone after that one.
My emails were full of new invitations and offers, but scrolling through them, I could see things had changed. People wanted me to speak about my experience. New clients wanted help dealing with reputational damage of their own.
It seemed the intimate relationship therapist had lost her intimacy.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and sipped it while staring out the window, trying to feel something like purpose. But it didn’t come, so I needed support. Finally, I grabbed my phone and called Sutton.
“I have to get out of here. Can you grab coffee with me?”
Sutton laughed. “Darling, I have a casting call in an hour, but it’s across town. Meet me on the corner of Lexington and Fiftieth, and we’ll walk together.”
At least it was something to fill the time. “See you in fifteen minutes,” I said, grabbing my coat and heading out.
When I spotted Sutton leaning casually against a street sign, tapping away on her phone, I couldn’t help but admire her. Her dark hair was pinned neatly in a French twist, her brown boots perfect for fall. She looked effortlessly gorgeous, as always.
She slipped her phone into her bag, wrapped me in a warm hug, and gestured to the crosswalk.
As we started walking, I told her everything about how my career in New York seemed irrevocably changed, and about the job offer in Paris.
And the way I couldn't stop thinking about it. At first it was the city and the hold it had on me. But the more I thought about the offer, the more I realized it was the work—I didn’t want to tend to reputational damage.
I wanted to tend to hearts and minds. I wanted to tend to humans trying to get closer to other humans. I wanted to help people love more.
“Should I take it?”
“It does sound like a great job,” Sutton said as we weaved through the noontime crowds.
“I know,” I said with a sigh, my heart heavy, because taking the job would mean leaving Jack. “Tell me the truth—how badly do you miss Reeve when he’s on a shoot?”
“Terribly,” she said, her voice tinged with a quiet ache. But then she softened. “Except it’s easier because I know he’s coming back. If you take the job, it won’t just be for a few weeks here and there. You’d be gone. You’d be living there, and Jack would be living here.”
I nodded, my stomach twisting. “That’s the issue, isn’t it? Two separate lives.”
At the corner, Sutton stopped and placed her hands on my shoulders, her gaze steady and serious. “You love your job. You’re going through a rough patch right now. But the question is—which will you regret more? Will you look at Jack every day and see him as the man who took your career away?”
“No!” I said quickly, horrified at the thought.
She shook her head. “I don’t mean it like that. I know it’s not his fault. But if you don’t take this job, what will it do to your relationship? Will he become the man who got in the way of you taking the next step in your career? Will you look at him and see only what you gave up?”
Her words cut straight through me, even though I didn’t want them to. I could never resent him. But I thought I might resent my job, if it was no longer the one that I’d loved so much.
“Are you the therapist now?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
Sutton laughed as we crossed the street. “I’ve just spent enough time with you to know how your mind works. And hey, maybe you can try to make it work. Be a Paris-New York couple. You wouldn’t be the first, and you won’t be the last,” she said, then nodded down the street. “I’ve got to run.”
She kissed my cheek and disappeared into the crowd, her silhouette blending into the sea of people hurrying to their next destinations.
I stood there on the corner, watching the city move around me. Everyone had somewhere to go, something to do. Purpose. Plans.
I needed to figure out what mine were.
I let out a long, frustrated sigh and pulled out my phone. Maybe Jack was free. Maybe he could distract me, entertain me for a little while. I dialed his number, but it rang and rang. No answer.
A few minutes later, a text popped up:
Jack: In a meeting. Thinking of you. I’ll call you back soon, OK?
I stared at the message, my chest tightening with frustration.
What was I doing? Bothering him in the middle of his day like some needy mess?
Jack was out there somewhere, sleeves rolled up, running his multimillion-dollar company.
And here I was, tugging on his sleeve like a child, hoping he’d say something that would magically fix it for me.
I needed to behave like an adult.
“Take ten, and then we’ll go through the scene one more time,” Davis said to the trio of actors on stage at the Belasco Theatre on West Forty-Fourth.