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)
Things changed. We changed. And we didn't change too.
Some of it was his, ahem, issues.
But not all of it.
And all of those things meant we didn't fit together anymore. If we'd realized it sooner, things wouldn't have gotten so ugly. If I'd been able to hold onto some part of him, maybe it would be easier to let go. But this…
Ugh. No wonder Amara doesn't want me as Romeo's future wife. I fell down on the job once, at least from her point of view.
Right on cue, she waves hello to me. As I descend the stairs, I wave back. I study the matriarch again.
She's a lot like my mom, actually. Friendly, sturdy, stylish. With that undercurrent of judgment.
Am I projecting?
No, it's there, in her eyes. A subtle difference in the way she looks at me and Cynthia. Cynthia is marriage material. I'm not.
Is it a judgement of my job, my time with Romeo, or some other aspect of my personality? Maybe it’s nothing so sinister. Maybe she’s a mother who wants the best for her son and she simply isn’t sure if this new person is it.
Even that is strange, though. I grew up as the proverbial good girl. I had the interest in sex, but I kept it to myself. Since I got good grades, and won races at swim meets, I fit the role of stellar Orange County student well. Parents liked me. My ex’s parents liked me so much they didn’t bat an eye at my decision to specialize in sex therapy.
Back then, I really slipped into my role as good girl.
When I met my ex, I fell into the role so thoroughly I believed it.
But I'm not here to find myself. Not during the day anyway. Tonight, after the family is asleep, and it's just me and Romeo…
Absolutely tonight. I just need to think about that. Play my role here so I can enjoy the fruits there.
I force my lips into the smile as I step off the stairs. Amara stands and motions for Cynthia to follow.
"Do we have a new game?" Cynthia asks. There's no dread in her voice but there's no excitement either. She's tired, I think. It's been a long day already.
"The boys made breakfast this morning. It's our turn to make dinner. I'm going to finally teach you their favorite," Amara says.
"I think Ivy knows how to make a grilled cheese sandwich," Romeo teases. He looks to me with affection in his dark eyes. Pride. Mischief.
My knees threaten to crumble. He still has that look that says I dare you. The look that promises all sorts of erotic delights. But then maybe this is all part of the ruse.
Maybe he's not as into the sex as I am. That is his job. And I…
I hate the idea, I do. But I want to enjoy the fruits of my labor too. I'm paying for this my way. I'm going to get my "money's worth."
"Their childhood favorite," Amara corrects. "Cacio e pepe."
At the same time, Cynthia and Romeo let out a knowing laugh.
Daniel frowns and folds his arms over his chest. For the first time, he takes on the posture of a child, or maybe a petulant teen. He's been teased about this before, and he's used to it.
Then something shifts. He almost smiles. The annoyance is a put-on.
"Daniel thinks he's more sophisticated than he is," Romeo says. "Or he did, as a kid."
"He sneezed every time he helped me make the dish," Amara says. "And every time we ate it." Her voice takes on a wistful tone. "But I still remember the first time they had a babysitter, who made a box of Kraft. The kids called us at the restaurant. We thought they were in the hospital. But it was Daniel, panicking about dinner."
"He said, ‘Mama, the cheese the babysitter made is no good. It's yellow!’" Romeo laughs. "’Where are the black flakes?’"
"It was neon orange," Daniel says.
Romeo's laugh gets lower, deeper. "Do you remember that beautiful blonde you had a massive crush on—" He looks to Cynthia, to check how he's doing.
She nods along, unbothered by the image of childhood Daniel with a crush.
"The baby looked at the Tupperware Mom left with horror and Daniel proudly explained this is macaroni and cheese. Just look at the pasta! And the cheese! A simple recipe. Three ingredients." Romeo looks to Amara. "Cynthia knows how to make it. I'm not sure if Ivy does. I'm too used to fixing it for her."
What a nice fiction. My fake boyfriend cooking me a fancy version of a comfort food for dinner.
Or the two of us, in the kitchen, working together to make something fantastic.
I did that with my ex, once upon a time. We laughed over over-cooked noodles and oddly chopped pieces of peppers.
Then one day, we didn't.