Your mama would call me a whore. I am not. I don’t need the money. I just liked a good fuc seein’ to. To be known, Old Testament-style. I’m a psychiatrist with a specialty in sex, and collecting data doesn’t end when I shut my office door. And I’ll use any old excuse to justify my reckless behavior. But it’s a small world, and sometimes past lovers fall into your lap. (Literally.) Ones that ripped your heart from your chest. I don’t know if I want it. I don’t know if my heart will let me have it. I don’t know if I will catch fire, tear my thrumming stitches, or drown. It doesn’t matter. Because motherfuc Tyrone is coming with me. He might not wish he did. He might want to run.