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key to the smooth running of the practice.
    She should tell him so.
    Naomi made her way through the office until she was standing behind him.
    â€œBruno,” she started.
    He swiveled, clearly startled that she was talking to him. The pen was behind his ear again as he typed, and she wasn’t following his nonverbal clue. “What?”
    â€œI just wanted to thank you for everything you do. You’re the reason this place runs so well . . .” She stopped as Bruno turned away to retrieve a piece of paper off the printer. “Are you okay?”
    â€œI’m fine,” he mumbled as he removed the pen and set it on the desk. Then he turned sideways to fiddle with a loose cabinet knob.
    â€œReally? You seem a little off.”
    He sighed heavily. “I’m okay.”
    Naomi kicked herself. She should have noticed something was wrong, but she’d been so busy all day . . . Pulling a small chair around the partition and into his space, she sat facing him. “Tell me what’s going on. I’m sorry I haven’t asked before.”
    â€œIt’s nothing, Dr. Fontaine.”
    â€œAnd about that, will you call me Naomi?”
    He stared.
    â€œI’m sorry that it never occurred to me.” God, she sounded like such an ass. “But I’d really like it if you would.”
    â€œOkay . . . Naomi.” Her name sounded round in his mouth, as if he was trying it out for the first time, which perhaps he was.
    â€œNow, what’s going on?” She took a stab in the dark. “Is it a girl?”
    He went on staring at her. “What?”
    â€œYou know, girl trouble?” Naomi floundered. “Dating woes?”
    â€œI’m gay,” Bruno said flatly. “I assumed you knew that.”
    Several things clunked into place in Naomi’s mind, including the man named Peter, who came to collect Bruno for drinks on Friday nights after work. “Oh, shit.”
    â€œThat’s your answer to ‘I’m gay’? I’m gonna say that’s probably not politically correct.”
    Naomi grimaced and dug her fingers into her thighs. “No, that’s so not what I meant. I was just surprised.”
    â€œWow.”
    â€œI—,” she started. Maybe she could make it right. “So Peter is . . .”
    â€œMy boyfriend.”
    Naomi nodded. “He’s very . . . he has nice . . .” What wouldn’t sound bad, wouldn’t sound as if she was stereotyping him? Shoes? Eyes? Hair?
    â€œDo you have a problem with gay people?” Bruno’s scowl was deeper than usual.
    â€œOf course not. I’m glad you are.” God , she wanted to hit herself in the head. She was glad he was gay? What did that even mean ?
    â€œExcuse me. I think I’m going to take a break.”
    â€œYes, of course. Yes.” Naomi scooted back in the chair to let him out. Then she dropped her head into her hands.
    She didn’t even know Bruno, did she? Naomi didn’t know where he lived, had never hung out with him after work. She didn’t know if he and Peter had pets. Lord, they could have kids and she wouldn’t know it. That was inexcusable. If she’d ever had to treat him, if he’d ever been in front of her, as her patient, she’d know something about him—they’d have that small connection, the only one she was good at making. But out here, in the front office. . .
    Maybe she could get him a gift certificate to something. A spa, something nice. Rubbing her eyes, she sighed. A gift certificate as an apology was ridiculous. It was something her mother would do.
    And she couldn’t think of anything else.

Chapter Nine
    Flirt with your knitting like you’d flirt with a man—flatter it, pay close attention to it, find out its deepest secrets and desires.
    â€”E.C.
    C offee. She needed more. Naomi’s brain was screaming for it by the time she hung