snakes his arms around my waist and embraces me,
holding me close.
“Maybe we’re meant for each other, then,” he says
softly and inhales deeply, his nose in my hair. I wrap my
arms around him and close my eyes. For the first time
since this morning, I feel myself relax.
“Oh . . . Ana, Ana, Ana,” he breathes, his lips pressed
against my hair. I tighten my arms around him, and we
stand, immobile, enjoying a moment of unexpected
tranquility, on the street. Releasing me, he opens the
passenger door. I climb in and sit quietly, watching him
walk around the car.
Restarting the car, Christian pulls out into the traffic,
absentmindedly humming along to Van Morrison.
Whoa. I’ve never heard him sing, not even in the
shower, ever. I frown. He has a lovely voice—of course.
Hmm . . . has he heard me sing?
He wouldn’t be asking you to marry him if he had!
My subconscious has her arms crossed and is wearing
Burberry check . . . jeez. The song finishes and Christian
smirks.
“You know, if we had gotten a ticket, the title of this
“You know, if we had gotten a ticket, the title of this
car is in your name.”
“Well, good thing I’ve been promoted—I can afford
the fine,” I say smugly, staring at his lovely profile. His lips
twitch. Another Van Morrison song starts playing as he
takes the on-ramp to I-5, heading north.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise. What else did Flynn say?”
I sigh. “He talked about FFFSTB or something.”
“SFB一T. The latest therapy option,” he mutters.
“You’ve tried others?”
Christian snorts. “Baby, I’ve been subjected to them
all. Cognitivism, Freud, functionalism, Gestalt,
beha一viorism . . . You name it, over the years I’ve done it,”
he says and his tone betrays his bitterness. The rancor in
his voice is distressing.
“Do you think this latest approach will help?”
“What did Flynn say?”
“He said not to dwell on your past. Focus on the future
—on where you want to be.”
Christian nods but shrugs at the same time, his
expression cautious.
“What else?” he persists.
“He
本章未完，点击下一页继续阅读。