“I thought you were supposed to be explaining that to me.”

Dr. Petersen smiled. “I can’t wave a magic wand and give you all the answers, Gideon. I can only help you sort through it.”

I was tempted to wait for him to say more, make him do most of the talking. But the thought of Eva and her hopes that therapy was going to make some sort of difference goaded me to speak. I’d promised to try, so I would. To a degree. “Things are smoothing out for us. We’re in sync more than we’re not.”

“Do you feel that you’re communicating better?”

“I think we’re better at gauging the motives behind each other’s actions. We understand each other more.”

“Your relationship has moved very quickly. You’re not an impulsive man, but many would say marrying a woman you’ve known such a short time—and one you admit you’re still getting to know—is extremely impulsive.”

“Is there a question there?”

“An observation.” He waited a moment, but when I didn’t say anything, he went on. “It can be difficult for spouses of individuals with Eva’s history. Her commitment to therapy has helped both of you; however, it’s likely she’ll continue to change in ways you may not expect. It will be stressful for you.”

“I’m no picnic myself,” I said dryly.

“You’re a survivor of a different sort. Have you ever felt that your nightmares were aggravated by stress?”

The question irritated me. “What does it matter? They happen.”

“You don’t feel there are changes that can be made to lessen their impact?”

“I just got married. That’s a major life change, wouldn’t you say, Doctor? I think that’s enough for now.”

“Why must there be a limit? You’re a young man, Gideon. You have a variety of options available to you. Change doesn’t have to be something avoided. What’s the harm in trying something new? If it doesn’t work out, you always have the option to go back to what you were doing before.”

I found that wryly amusing. “Sometimes, you can’t go back.”

“Let’s try a simple change now,” Dr. Petersen said, setting his tablet aside. “Let’s go for a walk.”

I found myself standing when he did, not wanting to be seated while he towered above me. We stood face-to-face with the coffee table between us. “Why?”

“Why not?” He gestured toward the door. “My office may not be the best place for us to talk. You’re a man used to being in charge. In here, I am. So we’ll level the playing field and hit the hallway for a bit. It’s a public space, but most of the individuals who work in this building have gone home.”

I exited his office before him, watching as he locked both his inner and outer office doors before joining me.

“Ah, well. This is certainly different,” he said, his mouth curving wryly. “Knocks me off my stride a bit.”

I shrugged and started walking.

“What are your plans for the rest of the evening?” he asked, falling into step beside me.

“An hour with my trainer.” And then I said more. “My stepfather is coming over later.”

“To spend time with you and Eva? Are you close to him?”

“No, to both.” I stared straight ahead. “Something’s wrong. That’s the only reason he ever calls me.”

I sensed his gaze on my profile. “Do you wish that were different?”

“No.”

“You don’t like him?”

“I don’t dislike him.” I was going to leave it at that, but again I thought of Eva. “We just don’t know each other very well.”

“You could change that.”

I huffed out a laugh. “You’re really pushing that angle tonight.”

“I told you, I don’t have an angle.” He stopped, forcing me to stop, too.

Tipping his chin up, he eyed the ceiling, clearly thinking. “When you’re considering an acquisition or exploring a new avenue of doing business, you bring in people to advise you, right? Experts in their respective fields?” He looked at me again, smiling. “You could think of me the same way, as an expert consultant.”

“On what?”

“Your past.” He resumed walking. “I help you with that, you can figure out the rest of your life yourself.”

—

“GET your head in the game, Cross.”

My gaze narrowed. Across the mat, James Cho hopped on his bare feet, taunting me. He grinned evilly, knowing the unspoken challenge would spur me on. Half a foot shorter than me and lighter by at least thirty pounds, the former MMA champion was lethally quick and had the belt to prove it.

Rolling my shoulders back, I adjusted my stance. My fists came up, closing the opening that had allowed his last punch to connect with my torso.

“Make it worth my while, Cho,” I fired back, irritated that he was right. My brain was still back in Dr. Petersen’s office. A switch had been thrown tonight and I couldn’t get a handle on what it was or what it meant.

James and I circled, feinting and striking out, neither of us scoring a hit. As always, it was just the two of us in the dojo. The driving beat of taiko drums rumbled in the background from speakers cleverly hidden in the floor-to-ceiling bamboo paneling.

“You’re still holding back,” he said. “Falling in love turn you into a pu**y?”