Chapter 38 Plan B #2
Caroline didn’t hold back. She moved straight to the big question. “I realize this is a deeply personal question, but I think it will speak to the bigger picture: why did you see a therapist in the first place? Was it because of Aubrey?”
Ah. The root of it all. The thing that had haunted me for over a year.
“It’s okay. Anyone who’s spent time with me in the last year probably knows I needed therapy,” I said, leaning back in my chair.
“But probably not for the reasons everyone thinks. I cared about Aubrey deeply, and I mourned her loss, like anyone would. But by the time I got over the idea that it was weak to see a therapist, I had a different issue to deal with surrounding her death.”
I paused, weighing my words carefully. “We had an argument that same day—a stupid fight, just a few minutes before her run. And she died shortly after. I’m going to live with that guilt for the rest of my life.
I’ve been living with it for the last year, and I was ready to let it go.
That’s why I sought professional help. To start to move past the regret I felt over the things that were said in those final moments.
I was able to do that with another therapist, and also with the support of friends, family, and people I love. ”
I leaned forward, meeting her eyes. “And yes, that includes the woman I’m in love with. And yes, she happens to be a therapist, and I’m pleased to say she’s not my therapist.”
Caroline kept typing, then stopped and looked up at me. “I also understand from Casey that you have some new plans in the works related to this?”
I nodded. “Yes, we do,” I said, keeping it simple.
“It’s no secret at Joy Delivered that there’s a stigma around sex.
Certainly there’s one around mental health.
And although we recognize that we’re just a company that sells adult toys, we also recognize that we can play a part in making the world a little better by addressing this stuff.
Do you have a minute to walk over to Eden? ”
Caroline raised an eyebrow as she closed her laptop. “I love Eden,” she said in a low voice.
“So do a lot of people,” Casey chimed in with a grin, lowering her voice as well. “Have you tried The Wild One? It’s divine.”
Caroline laughed. “I know. It’s amazing.”
Minutes later, we reached the store on the Upper East Side.
Even from across the street, it was obvious the place was packed.
Casey had unleashed our promotional plans earlier than expected, rolling it out on social media that morning.
Changing the conversation was the only way forward, and going public with the interviews at the same time was the best way to do it loudly.
Caroline stopped to read the hot pink sign in the window:
“Half of all proceeds from any Joy Delivered products bought at Eden, in-store and online, for the rest of the year will be donated to breast cancer research. May your days and nights be filled with pleasure beyond your wildest fantasies.”
Her jaw dropped. “Holy shit. That could be a lot of money.”
“So far today, in just a few hours, we’ve raised several thousand dollars,” Casey said. “We’d planned to announce it at the charity gala this week, but now seemed like a better time. And that’s not all—take a look at this flyer.”
Sick But Sexy: How To Enjoy Intimacy After Your Diagnosis. A series of talks hosted by Eden and Upper East Original. All talks will be archived online for anyone unable to attend.
Caroline looked up at us. “Wow, you guys. I have to say, this really is the kind of thing that makes the world a little better. Can I take a few of these back to the office?” Casey nodded, and handed her several.
“I can’t help but notice, though—none of the speaking therapists listed here are named Dr. Milo. ”
She was right.
I was proud of what we’d accomplished in a relatively short time.
Casey’s campaign had worked quickly, and when social media vibes shifted, they shifted quickly.
We’d pulled Henry and Marquita’s business out of the mud and done something meaningful on top of rescuing our own sales.
The news about our initiative was already spreading across the district, changing the narrative.
No one was talking about shutting down the clubs anymore, instead there was talk of something positive—something that actually mattered. Business at Eden had never been better.
But if Michelle came and spoke at the lecture series she’d helped organize, it would only become a distraction.
To the public, she wasn’t just an anonymous therapist anymore.
She was the therapist who was the sex toy mogul’s lover, and she didn’t want the conversation to be about her. As always, she just wanted to help.
This time, it was Michelle that needed help.
She’d called to tell me she’d been cleared of any ethics violations, but that didn’t undo the damage. She’d lost more than half her business, her speaking engagements, her referrals. The court of public opinion didn’t offer much room for nuance.
All I could do was pray that Caroline’s article would make a difference.
But I couldn’t do it alone. “Now that we’ve touched on the good things happening with Eden, I need to tell you about Conroy Commercial Solutions, and I can’t do it without Michelle.
She’s waiting for us in the office. And the two of us are going to tell you the whole story. ”
Michelle was a part of this, of course. And I didn’t want to be the kind of man who spoke for her—not when she had such a strong voice, and could speak for herself. So she did, helping to tell her story, and ours.
The whole story. And the whole truth.