Peter's POV
I've been seeing Dr. Reeves for seven years.
No one knows. Not my board, not my assistants, not my family. Seven years of Tuesday afternoons, sixty minutes each, talking about my father, my mother, my inability to feel anything but control.
Today, I talk about her.
Dr. Reeves waits as I settle into the couch—the same couch, same position, same ritual. She's good at silence. Lets me find my own way in.
"I had a fight," I finally say. "With my wife."
"Lara-Jean."
"Yes."
"What about?"
I tell her. The client. The firing. Lara-Jean's fury. Her words: You don't know how to let anyone fight for themselves.
Dr. Reeves nods slowly. "And how did that feel?"
"Terrifying."
"Because she was angry?"
"No. Because she was right."
"Tell me about your father," Dr. Reeves says.
I'
