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“No, it doesn’t. But one can hope.”

“Your first session was really bad, huh?” Sylvie says.

“It was. It was worse than bad,” I say. “I didn’t take kindly to her words, and she didn’t take kindly to mine. I wouldn’t be surprised to find myself kicked out.”

“What happened?” Flicking her long hair back, Sylvie leans forward until I’m sure no one can hear us.

Under different circumstances, her inquisitiveness would have annoyed me, but those aren’t usual circumstances. I feel lonely. Stuck in a place that scares me. I need a friend.

And if I’m to be absolutely honest, I’m happy to have someone to talk to. Someone to conspire with, especially when said new friend will assist me with my plan of getting in touch with Bruce.

“She said my feelings weren’t real,” I say.

“Wow. Those were her exact words?”

“No, but I’m sure that’s what she meant to say.” Pausing, I take a deep breath and release it slowly, considering my words. “She said my love for my boyfriend wasn’t healthy. I’m ashamed to say that I overreacted. I actually blew a gasket.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, her incredulous expression inviting me to go on.

“I might have screamed a little,” I say. “Actually, make that a lot. And I’m not even the screaming type.”

Sylvie eyes me as I stuff another fry into my mouth. “How did she take it?”

“To be honest, she was quite composed. As if she expected such a reaction from me.” I shrug my shoulders. “Her reply was that I’m in denial, which was the point where I stormed out, slamming the door behind me, and skipped my first mandatory lesson. Like I said, I wouldn’t be surprised if they kicked me out.”

“They won’t do that because of a little disagreement,” Sylvie says.

“It was a little more than that.” My words come out so low for a moment I’m not even sure I spoke them. “Things were…heated. I told her that her therapy plan sucked and that she could shove it. I also might have told her that I didn’t need therapy and that she might need it more than I do, among other things.” My hands close around the cup. I bite my lip hard to stifle the growing sense of helplessness inside me. “I don’t feel like we got along. At this point, I think I’d be better off switching counselors. Do you think they’d let me do that?”

Sylvie remains silent for a moment. “I don’t think so. But hey, give her another chance. After all, it was your first meeting and it’s her job to help you. It gets better, you’ll see.”

“Maybe,” I mumble. “If they let me stay.”

Which I don’t even want to. But if it’s the only way Bruce and I will be together again, then so be it.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever been kicked out.” She grabs my hand over the table and squeezes it. “At this point, you need to stay positive and have faith. Just keep your head up and see what happens. Trust that everything happens for your own good and you’ll be surprised with the outcome.”

“I’m trying.” I look up, my eyes burning. There’s a tight sensation in my chest, but the tears don’t come because underneath it all I still feel angry.

Angry that nobody’s getting me.

Angry that hurdle after hurdle keeps stopping me from being with Bruce.

“How come you’re here of your own will?” I ask.

“That’s pure coincidence.” She waves her hand good-humoredly, as if she saw the question coming. “When my best friend broke up with her boyfriend, I bought her a therapy plan as a gift to help her move on from him. But they worked things out. She had no need for it, so I thought why not to use it for myself?”

I laugh, my worries almost forgotten. “Why would you do that?”

“What? Getting her a therapy gift card or using it for myself?” She shrugs her shoulders. “I meant well. Obviously I was happy for them to reconcile, but it wasn’t exactly cheap. Besides, I heard nothing but great things about this place. Maybe it was just curiosity. Or the fact that my love life’s a mess. The truth is, I think everyone needs therapy in some way or another.”

That’s a strange statement.

“How so?” I lean forward, eager to hear more.

“I always seem to attract the wrong man,” Sylvie says. “Every guy I go for either doesn’t want to enter any sort of commitment or just not with me. There must be something wrong with me.”

I stare at her. Sylvie’s beautiful. With her perfect teeth and her symmetrical features, she could easily pass as a model. Her skin is tanned and glowing—the kind of complexion I’ve always wanted rather than my pale, freckled skin. In addiction, she’s tall and slender, with the kind of body you only ever see on a Victoria’s Secret runway. And then there’s the straight, glossy, blonde hair of hers that looks so natural it can’t possibly be.