Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
His lips curl into a smile. "See, now we're getting somewhere." He motions to my expression. "There's something you think about me. Something you don't want to share."
"Not exactly," I say.
"What exactly?"
Maybe it is that. After all, I don't want to accuse him of dishonesty. But then I also don't think it's dishonesty. Not exactly. "You're a charming man."
"Why does that sound like an accusation?"
"You tell people what they want to hear," I say. "You play into their image of you. You let your mom see you as a playboy. You let me see you as a—"
"Hooker with a heart of gold?"
"A guy who wants more," I say. "Who wants something deeper. More honest."
"But I'm not that guy?" he asks.
"I don't know." I try to keep my statement as true as possible. "We don't know each other well. I imagine, you are that guy. A part of you is. A part of you wants more. That's true for all of us."
"But that's not specific to me," he says.
Right. I'm not speaking in generalities. I'm getting to know him. So I can better play his girlfriend. Not to play his therapist. "It seemed easy for you, to access that part of yourself—the one that wants more, wants to connect, wants to look for love—then to put it away. Like you had practice. Maybe I'm assuming that, because I know your job. Maybe it's me. I have my own baggage coloring my view of men."
"Should we talk about that?" he asks.
Eventually, probably. I'm sure it will come up if we really are playing intimacy games as part of a pre-wedding celebration of love. But I can't. Not right now. "Another time."
He nods, with understanding. "I am practiced. You're right."
"And that does make you seem…"
"Like a fuckboy?" he offers.
"Something more sophisticated, but, yes, like a guy who tells a woman what she wants to hear to get into her pants." It's not untrue, exactly. It's just the elements are in a different order.
"That's how Daniel sees me," he says. "Mom, too."
"I'm not sure," I say. "She seems protective of you. She doesn't like that I'm divorced."
He makes a hmm noise. "Did she ask about it?"
"A little," I say. "I didn't know what to tell her. What she'd see as an acceptable reason my marriage ended."
"Why did it end?"
There’s no way I’m sharing that with him. I don’t even talk about it with Meredith. I swallow hard and motion to the book. "Should we read a scene?"
His eyes stay on mine for a moment. He holds that gaze, giving me the opportunity to admit to something true, to at least admit I don't want to talk about it.
When I don't, he looks to the page and shifts into character.
He reads, "but, soft, what light through yonder window breaks. It is the east, and Juliet is the sun."
Sure. That's a famous quote from the play. Everyone knows that one.
"This is why people think this shit is romantic," he says. "Because Romeo really does fall for Juliet. He's not saying all this to get in her pants. He's head over heels."
"Isn't he a teenager?" I ask.
He nods. "A teenager in love. Feelings change fast at that age."
"Have you come close to falling in love?"
"No," he says. "I loved women, but I was never in love."
"Just sleeping around?" I ask.
"More making out, at that age," he says. "Most people weren't ready to have sex."
"When were you?" I ask.
"Oh, I think I'll save that information." He sits on the bed and pats the spot next to me. "Let's read a scene. Then I'll show you around the house."
"Which one?"
"The one where they meet, of course."
"Can I be Romeo?" I ask.
He smiles. "No one has ever asked me that."
"It might be fun. To reverse the roles," I say.
He nods it might.
We read the scene. I fall into my role as the romantic teenage boy. The one who falls in love at first sight.
Looking at Romeo, it's easy to imagine falling hard for him. He's handsome and charming. And, despite his stated desire for honesty, he's still hiding himself from me.
But that's okay.
Because this isn't real.
Like the words on the page, this is all pretend.
It's just hard to remember that when I stare into his gorgeous brown eyes.
And, well, it's really hard to remember that when he leads me to the backyard and kisses me under the palm trees.
I'm about ready to tear off his clothes when a voice interrupts.
"Rome, is that you?" A woman asks.
Cynthia. His brother's fiancée.
She's out here, on her own, listening to something on her phone, vaping.
"Are you two really that handsy?" she laughs. "Or is that for your brother's benefit?"
Chapter Sixteen
Ivy
"Do I smell pot?" Romeo's voice shifts to a teasing tone. It's a little over the top. A game, for Cynthia's benefit.
She's more model-like than I expected. Tall, thin, beautiful in a striking way. A California Casual version of Naomi Campbell, with the same dark brown skin and symmetrical features.