Chapter 2

I barely slept. Around three in the morning, I gave up and just stared at the ceiling.

I feel like I'm raping my own girlfriend.

The words echoed on an endless loop.

Morning came too soon. I heard Ethan before I saw him, already up, making his protein shake like nothing had happened. The blender whirred aggressively.

I dragged myself off the couch. I headed to the bedroom to grab clothes, desperate for a shower.

That's when I saw it.

The laundry basket was overflowing in the corner. I started pulling clothes out and there it was. A smudge of bright red lipstick on the collar of one of his white work shirts.

My stomach dropped.

"Ethan?"

I held the shirt like evidence. The blender shut off. His footsteps approached.

"Yeah, babe?"

"What the hell is this?" I thrust the shirt at him.

His face went blank for a split second. Then he shrugged.

"Oh, that? Probably from the bar last week. Some girl bumped into me or something."

"Bullshit."

"Mia, come on. You're overreacting."

"We've been fighting about our sex life for months, and you're out there screwing someone else because I can't get wet fast enough for you?"

He laughed. A short, bitter bark.

"Oh, please. Like you'd even know what screwing feels like. You're like some mother virgin. No wonder I had to look elsewhere. At least she knows how to enjoy it."

"Get out," I whispered. Then louder. "Get the fuck out, Ethan!"

He grabbed his gym bag, shoving in a few shirts.

"You know what? Fine. We're done. Good luck finding someone who puts up with your ice queen bullshit."

The door slammed behind him.

I stood there frozen, listening to him leave. Then the tears came.

Was I really that broken?

But underneath it all, one thought kept surfacing.

The appointment. Sophie's ex-husband. Dr. Vincent Kane.

I checked my phone. Nine forty-seven. The appointment was at eleven.

I showered, threw on jeans and a cream-colored blouse, and drove to 847 Maple Street.

The building was sleek and modern. The sign read Kane Women's Health and Wellness Center in elegant silver letters.

I sat in the parking lot, staring.

This was Sophie's ex-husband. The man she'd been married to. What if this made things weird between us?

But I was already here.

I texted Sophie. I'm here. This feels so strange.

Her response came immediately. You've got this. He's going to help. Don't think of him as my ex. Think of him as your doctor. That's all he is. Text me after. Love you.

I took a deep breath and walked inside.

The waiting room was beautiful. Soft lighting, comfortable chairs, abstract art. Everything designed to feel safe.

At the reception desk, a kind woman smiled.

"Good morning. Do you have an appointment?"

"Yes. Mia Hartley. Eleven o'clock with Dr. Kane."

"Perfect. Since this is your first visit, I'll need you to fill out some intake paperwork."

I settled into a chair with the clipboard. The forms were standard at first. Then they got personal.

Sexual history.

Current relationship status.

Describe your primary concern.

I wrote: Difficulty with arousal and orgasm. Unable to achieve climax with partner.

I returned the forms and waited. Ten fifty-eight.

"Mia Hartley?"

A nurse appeared, smiling warmly.

"Come on back, honey."

She led me down a hallway, took my vitals, then showed me into a room that looked more like a comfortable office than an exam room. A couch, a chair, soft lighting.

"Dr. Kane will be with you in just a moment."

Then she was gone.

I sat on the couch, hands folded, trying to calm my racing heart.

This was Sophie's ex-husband. What would he be like? Would it be awkward? Would he mention Sophie?

There was a knock.

"Ms. Hartley? May I come in?"

The voice was deep, smooth.

"Yes."

The door opened.

Dr. Vincent Kane stepped inside and I forgot how to breathe.

Sophie hadn't mentioned that her ex-husband looked like he'd walked straight out of a magazine. Tall, easily over six feet, with dark hair and striking blue-gray eyes that focused on me with an intensity that made my skin warm.

He wore a white coat over expensive-looking clothes, and when he extended his hand, I noticed the watch on his wrist. Definitely not something most doctors could afford.

"Ms. Hartley. I'm Dr. Vincent Kane. It's nice to meet you."

I stood on shaky legs and shook his hand. His grip was firm, warm.

"Please, have a seat. And call me Vincent if you're comfortable with that."

He settled into the chair across from me, completely at ease. He picked up my intake forms.

"So, Mia," he said, and something about the way he said my name made my stomach flutter. "I've reviewed your forms. I want you to know that everything we discuss here is completely confidential. My job is to help you understand your body and find solutions. Does that sound good?"

I nodded.

"Good." He set the clipboard aside. "Why don't you tell me what brought you here today?"

The words came tumbling out.

"I can't orgasm. Not with my boyfriend. Not by myself. Nothing works. And now he's cheated on me and I just feel so broken and I don't know what's wrong with me."

"How long has this been going on?"

"About six months. It used to be fine. But then something changed."

"And your boyfriend's response was to cheat."

I looked down. "He said being with me felt like raping his own girlfriend. Like I was just lying there not enjoying it."

When I looked up, Vincent's expression had shifted. There was something fierce in his eyes.

"Mia," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You are not broken. Whatever is happening with your body doesn't make you defective. And your ex-boyfriend cheating on you says everything about his character and nothing about your worth."

Tears pricked at my eyes.

"Now," he continued, "let's figure out what's really going on and fix it. Together. Are you ready?"

I nodded.

For the next forty-five minutes, we talked. He asked about my childhood, my relationship with my body, my first sexual experiences. He explained the psychology of arousal, the role of stress and anxiety, the ways trauma and societal messaging could create barriers to pleasure.

He never made me feel stupid or broken. He made me feel seen.

As the appointment was wrapping up, he stood.

"I'd like to see you again next week. We'll start with some basic exercises, breathing techniques, body awareness. This is very treatable, Mia. I promise you that."

"Thank you," I whispered. "Really. Thank you."

He walked me to the door. As I was leaving, I paused.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you... do you talk to Sophie? My friend Sophie?"

His expression shifted, became more guarded.

"Sophie Hart is a friend of yours?"

"My best friend. She's the one who told me about you. She said you were her ex-husband."

Something flickered in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or concern.

"Sophie and I are still friends, yes. She didn't mention she was referring you."

"Is that going to be a problem? I don't want to make things weird."

He was quiet for a moment, studying me.

"No. It's not a problem. You're my patient. That's all that matters. But Mia, I need you to understand something. What we discuss in these sessions is completely confidential. I won't discuss your treatment with Sophie or anyone else without your explicit permission."

"Okay. Good."

"And," he paused, "I should probably mention this upfront. Sophie and I have a complicated history. Our marriage ended amicably, but there were reasons we didn't work. If at any point you feel uncomfortable with me as your doctor because of your friendship with her, please tell me. I can refer you to someone else."

"No," I said quickly. "No, I want to stay with you. I mean, as my doctor. I feel comfortable with you."

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

"Good. I'll see you next week then. Same time?"

"Same time."

I left the clinic feeling lighter than I had in months.

In my car, I texted Sophie. Just finished. You were right. He's really good at this. Thank you for the referral.

Her response came quickly. I'm so glad! He's changed a lot since we were married. More patient, more focused. I think he's finally doing what he was meant to do. Proud of you for going.

I drove home with a tiny spark of hope burning in my chest.

I had no idea that spark was about to become a wildfire.

And I had no idea that the man who'd just promised to help me understand my body was about to become the only man I wanted.

Sophie's ex-husband.

The one person in the world I absolutely should not fall for.