Emerson took the following week off to spend time with his family. They took a trip upstate to overcome their grief together. In the week that Emerson was away, I came to the realization that I was too dependent on him. Actually, Michael was the one who had the realization, because I became a little insufferable. I found myself resorting to bad habits - poor sleep, over eating, random hook ups in the reception area. I was snappier, too, bickering more with Michael than I had been as of recent.

Michael called me out on Thursday. "Just because Em isn't here doesn't mean you get to be an asshole again," he said.

"What are you talking about?" I asked. "Maybe I'm always an asshole."

"No, you've been less assholish as of recent. Now that's he gone, the pressure to be nicer isn't as strong," he said, hands on hips.

"You're so fucking annoying," I said, which was very mean. After saying it, I realized that maybe he was right.

On Friday, I asked Cheryl if I could meet with her for an emergency session. I wanted to talk with her before Em returned on Monday. I couldn't be dependent on Em. It wasn't fair to him. He was so ready to sign this little amendment that would make doing the things we wanted to do okay. I couldn't jeopardize that. I mean, he was so warm and soft and smelled good when he was in my arms in his parents' basement. I don't think that's exactly where we were going to take it again, but if we did, I didn't want to ruin that.

"So, why do you think you're dependent on your assistant?" Cheryl asked.

"I mean, he's been gone all week, and now I'm resorting to being a shit person," I said. "And I know, you said to talk nicer about myself, but look at me. I'm so on edge, even right now. I need to be better without him. My mental health can't be dependent on him being around. I..." I sighed. "I want it to be good, better, on its own. It's just hard."

"What is it about your assistant that you think helps your mental health?" she asked.

"I don't know. I mean, he's always happy. A ray of sunshine."

"Always?"

I stared at the abstract lines on the carpet, trying to find a pattern. "No, not always," I said. "I guess he's actually anxious a lot. He cries a lot, too." I popped my jaw to the left. "I don't know. I guess..." I shook my head. What was I trying to say? "I yelled at him one time. He cried. I felt bad. I don't like reacting in anger because I don't like to make him cry."

She nodded. "You want to control your temper to prevent him from crying," she said. "What about other aspects of your mental health? You mentioned over-eating and your sleep schedule."

"Well, he crashed at my place for a while, and when he was there I ended up cooking more and having a better sleep schedule," I said, glancing at her, then back down. "I maintained it for some time, but even after he stopped staying at my place I was still doing better, so I don't know why I'm resorting to the bad habits again."

"What about your happiness?" she asked.

"What about it?"

"Well, you said that your better habits and the improvement in your mental health, was dependent on him. Does that mean your happiness is dependent on him?"

"No," I said, maybe too quickly. "I mean, he makes me laugh, sure. I'm not happy, though. I haven't been happy in a long time."

She tilted her head at me. "Not once, even recently?" she asked.

I thought about Halloween, being surrounded by the kids that tackled us, laughing on the floor with Em. I was happy. "Maybe a few times," I said. Why was I so in denial of being happy? I remembered what Em said about controlling my joy. I didn't control the joy Em made me feel. It was scary. No wonder I was resorting to depressive tendencies. But how could I be happy on my own? "How can I be happy on my own?"

"That's a difficult question," Cheryl said. "What makes you happy?"

"I mean, obviously my assistant," I said.

"How?"

I glanced at the basic artwork on the wall. I thought of the way Em looked at me when he was worried about me, with his sad puppy dog eyes. I thought of his smile, from ear to ear. The way he nodded at me when he was listening, really listening. His soft, pillow-like skin. I even thought of his welcoming family, how they brought me in like it was nothing.

"He listens," I said. "He's nice to me. He cares about me."

"Well, do you listen to yourself? Are you nice to yourself?"

When she asked these questions, I oddly enough felt relieved. Why? I wasn't sure exactly. I understood what she was getting at, though. If I wanted to be happy on my own, and not be dependent on Em, then I had to treat myself the way Em treated me. With kindness, with patience, with understanding, with...

Cheryl assigned me homework. Daily affirmations. Kind words to say to myself every morning. On Monday morning, I decided to join the yoga class that happened every morning on the fourth floor with the company gym. I hadn't done yoga in almost a decade. It was just basic yoga for forty-five minutes. I think everyone was a little surprised to see their CEO enter, but luckily it didn't ruin their calm morning.

"Thank your body for being here today, for supporting you with each step," said the yoga instructor. "Thank your lungs for every inhale and exhale that you breathe. Thank your heart for beating and thriving and loving everyday. Thank you, heart. Namaste."

Namaste, said the class.

After the class, I went up to the flat and took a shower. I brushed my teeth, got dressed, ate an orange, and made an espresso. I put on some fresh clothes and looked in the mirror. I liked the idea of thanking my heart. Thank you, heart. Maybe...a thank you to me. Thank you for waking up today. I didn't like that. Thank you for doing your best. Was I doing my best? You are not doing your best but you are doing better. Good job. Not bad. I'll work on it. I went into the office a few minutes before eight. I managed to get six hours of sleep, better than normal. I felt relaxed. Limber. Ready for the day.

On the other side of the door, Emerson came into the room. My heart bounced. Stop it, heart. I entered the reception area and watched as Em put his headphones into his backpack. "Good morning," I said.

Emmy smiled at me. Calm down, heart. "Good morning," he said. "Oh my god, did you miss me?"

"Eh, maybe a little," I said, smirking.

Em walked up to me with his lack of personal space. "You mean you didn't miss my bird-like laugh and hilarious jokes?" he asked.

"I guess you can say that. How was your time off?" I asked.

"It was fun. It was good to spend time with my family. I mean, sometimes it's a little much, but I don't want to take time for granted," he said.

"That's sweet," I said. I smiled softly at him, thinking of time taken for granted with him. "It's good to have you back, but always feel free to take your time off."

He stretched his arms behind him, walking to his desk. "I've taken enough time off," he said, sitting down. "For now, at least. How was it when I was gone?"

I shrugged. "It was okay," I said, leaning against the sofa. "I did miss you, though."

He smiled, hunching his shoulders. "That bad?"

I laughed. A part of me wanted to confess to how miserable it was without him, but I didn't want to put that burden on him. "Even on the good days it's easy to miss you," I said, and I found myself blushing because I didn't mean for that to come off as romantic as it did.

Em's neck grew a little red. "So...can I sign that amendment?" he asked.

"Well, you should read through it first. Alway read what you sign."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine."

Emilio sat with us as Em tried to read the amendment, but he kept skimming it and losing focus. I insisted he read it fully, but then read through it for him. The amendment was solid. I could not fire him out of my irrational anger. He couldn't betray my trust. So, we'd be able to - heaven forbid - spend time at my townhouse after work without feeling the guilt of overstepping boundaries. On a bad day, I could take him in my arms. There's a lot we could truly do...

Emilio stamped the amendment after we signed. "Well, you two have fun," he said.

Em sat in my office with his laptop the majority of the day, even when I had my meetings. I liked having him sit in my office, even if we weren't talking. It was comforting, but I had to remember to find comfort in being alone, too. Being alone was a double edged sword for me. I both wanted to be alone but hated being lonely. I could have someone over to hook up with but would still feel lonely. I could sit alone and long for company. The only time I felt true content was when I was sitting with Em. How could I feel content without him? It's not like I deserved his company or my own contentment.

No. I couldn't talk to myself that way. I had to be nicer to myself. It was so hard, though. Sometimes, I really hated myself. All of the guilt and shame I carried with me made it hard to like myself. It made it difficult to feel like I deserved anything other than pain and misery. Why should I feel love and care? This is what I was talking about. How could I convince myself I deserved any shred of happiness?

"Are you okay?"

I looked up at Em, who was standing in front of my desk with a look of worry in his puppy dog eyes. Maybe I should adopt a dog. "I'm fine," I said. "Is it five already?"

Em walked around and sat on the edge of my desk. "It is, and I am actually super hungry for once. Can we eat together tonight?" he asked.

"Sure, that sounds nice. If you want, I can cook for you."

He clapped his hands. "Can you make pasta? I want some carbs, for once."

"I can make that. Anything else you want, Mr. Lane?"

He pondered, looking at the ceiling. "Maybe some cake."

"Wow, you really are hungry for once. But sure, I can make cake. Shall we go?"

"Yes, Mr. Jett."