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)
But he’d never pick a dress for her. Too untraditional.
Can Ivy help her with that?
Is Ivy a clothes and makeup kind of girl? She's pretty and stylish, in her way, but she's not one of those women who draws a lot of attention to her looks.
Better than Mom's help though, no doubt.
"Why don't we all guess each other's," Cynthia offers. "It will be more fun that way. Keep things exciting. Besides, that's the only way I'll have something to guess. I know all Daniel's secrets."
"Is that what you think?" he asks.
"I'm not sure your 401k balance counts as a secret," I say.
"She knows that," Daniel says.
Cynthia laughs. "Not that I ever remember." She looks to the backyard with starry eyes. I need a cigarette eyes. Yes, she smokes, well, vapes nicotine too. The woman loves her substances.
"I'm sure he's got a few things up his sleeve," Ivy says.
Daniel looks to Cynthia and raises a brow dramatically.
She laughs and leans in to kiss him.
It's disgustingly cute.
And not a version of them I recognize.
Since when is he affectionate?
Did he take mushrooms and suddenly see all the love in the universe? Or whatever she said.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I don't know as much as I think.
He whispers something in her ear in Spanish.
She replies in kind.
I only catch half of it and it's dirty as fuck. That's really not like them.
What the hell?
Whatever. That's not what I'm doing here. I'm playing my part. I move a little closer to Ivy. I wrap my arm around her.
She leans into the gesture and looks up at me with a hazy smile. It's sweet. So sweet I forget it's pretend.
She really is pretty. I could get lost in those soft green eyes of hers.
"It is nice, to see the house full of love," Mom says. "Now. Remember, this isn't about winning or losing. It's about learning about our partners."
Cynthia's nose scrunches in surprise. If it's not about winning, why make it into a game? But Cynthia isn't one to ask that question. She's more like me. Someone who will ask that question to her friend in private.
"That's how we used to play as kids," Daniel says. "Mom would make up a game and somehow she'd always win."
"It was very convenient," I say.
Daniel smiles. An actual smile. It's a rare look.
It reminds me I don't just hate my brother's judgment. I love the bastard too.
I want the best for him too. The best relationship with Cynthia, the best business, the best house full of kids.
"Some parents coddle their children. That's not how we do it in Italy," Mom says.
Daniel laughs. "Mama, not everything is about the difference between Italy and the U.S."
"This is though. Have you seen the kids here? The classes they take? The big trophies they get for last place?" Mom asks.
"Oh no, is she really onto participation trophies?" Cynthia asks. "Now, you really sound like you're from the U.S., Amara. That's a cliche here."
"It is?" Horror spreads over Mom's face. "It is confusing for the children, to say winning matters, and it doesn't."
"Showing up is half the battle," Ivy says.
Cynthia nods. "That's true."
"It's not just showing up. It's trying hard. Being present. Now, enough talk. Time to play!" She motions to the pens on the table. "Write three things your partner doesn't know about you. They can be big or small, meaningful or silly. Anything."
There are a million things Ivy doesn't know about me. But what can I share in front of my family?
If we were a real couple, what would I say? What would I tell her to bring the two of together? To surprise or delight her with the endless mystery of my personality.
My first real celebrity crush—one where I wanted to fuck the famous person—was the sex worker on a Mexican soap opera. I didn't quite understand the job, at the time, or why everyone judged her for it. Only that she was beautiful and charming and lived a life of luxury solely because people enjoyed her company.
The weirder thing was that Mom didn't mind. She never questioned it. She understood completely.
I can't say it that way. People will wonder why I'm bringing up her profession. But I can share the crush. After all, Ivy doesn't know that, and Daniel rarely watched with us.
My first celebrity crush was an actress on a telenovela.
What else?
I only went to business school because my brother didn't think I could do it.
Too honest.
My first drink was limoncello.
That's small and easy. Perfect.
And something about Ivy. Something to make her feel special. To show her I care.
To show the room I care.
I have a thing for sex therapists.
Too obvious.
I love girls with PhDs.
I'm turned on my intellectual conversations about sex.
No.
That's it.
I write the secret, fold the paper, toss all three in the hat.
Everyone else takes their turn. Then Mom starts. She mixes up the secrets and pulls a notecard from the hat theatrically.