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)
How do things change that way? So quickly?
"Okay, Mr. Expert. Change of plans." Amara brushes her long, light sundress. "You teach the ladies how to make dinner while Daniel and I enjoy aperitifs."
"I'll even make the Aperol Spritz." Romeo stands and kisses his mom on the cheek. "You can pretend you aren't watching us." He moves into the kitchen, motioning for us to follow.
We move into the big, modern room. It's beautiful. A real chef's kitchen with stainless steel appliances, tile floors, and a stove big enough to cook dinner for ten. The fridge is similarly massive.
"Can you collect the ingredients while I make the drinks?" He nods to Cynthia.
She nods back and moves to the fridge. "This one is a breeze. Though Daniel is picky."
Romeo chuckles.
"He's a bit of a perfectionist. I'm surprised he okayed the idea to have the wedding here." Cynthia glances at the living room, which is partially in view, partially blocked by the half wall. It's far enough away we can't hear a thing, but close enough we can see Daniel and his mom chatting about… something.
"Was it your idea?" I ask.
She pulls a block of cheese from the fridge and sets it on the kitchen island. "I wanted to elope. I've always seen my wedding that way. Something small, intimate, modern."
"One where you wear a suit?" Suddenly, the image forms in my head. A City Hall wedding. A tall woman in a suit and white flats. A man in a matching white three-piece. A sex therapist and a sex worker.
A fake wedding maybe.
Or a real one.
I don't know anymore.
I don't want to marry Romeo. I barely know the man. But I can see the image of our wedding. An image of our wedding.
The first image of a wedding I've had since my divorce.
It's strange. I don't know if I ever want to marry again. I still can't shake the image of my last marriage.
And the vision of that possibility:
It's exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.
Because it means I can love and trust again.
Because it means I can get hurt again.
But then I can't.
I can't marry Romeo. There's no future here. The man's job is sleeping with other people. I'm not nearly evolved enough to pay my bills with the orgasms my husband gave other women.
And, sure, he has a goal of opening this coffee shop with his brother, but he can’t count on success there. Most small businesses close in the first five years. He would be smart to keep his day job. I can’t ask him to risk his future.
We don't know each other that well.
But we are getting there. Sorta.
"No, not a suit." Cynthia laughs, pulling me back to the moment. "But not a gown either. Something less formal. A cocktail dress, maybe, and not white. Who needs white? It's not like I'm pretending I'm a virgin."
"Absolutely not," Romeo laughs, from his spot at the bar.
"I suppose I should figure that out," she says.
"Maybe I can help," I offer. "Actually, maybe my friend Meredith can help. She always looks so cool. She's at a meditation retreat, but she's texting me non-stop to try to get a break. She'd be happy to offer feedback on a few pictures."
Cynthia smiles. "Okay. We can go shopping tomorrow. Escape a few activities, maybe." She looks to Romeo and shakes her head. "No boys allowed."
"I don't remember volunteering."
"What do you think about a bright color?" I ask. "I love not doing white. Why pretend this is your first time at bat?"
"I think everyone likes to pretend a little, don't they?" Cynthia asks. "That our partners never had anyone as good or fun or exciting as us?"
"You two started dating when you were seventeen," Romeo says. "Who was he experimenting with?"
Cynthia shoots Romeo a look I can't quite place. One with familiarity. A platonic connection. Or a familial one maybe. Maybe they already feel like siblings.
Or maybe it's oh, isn't it cute that Ivy doesn't know the typical social norms around sex.
I do forget most people aren't open. I do forget that conversations aren't podcast interviews, that I'm not here as Dr. O… or even Dr. Vaughn.
"Daniel doesn't like to talk about that kind of stuff," Cynthia says. "I understand that. I don't mind the stories of his sex life, but I hate hearing about how much he loved his first girlfriend." She grabs the pepper from a high shelf and stares at the grater. "Why do we do that? Why do we want to pretend someone didn't love before?"
"It's easier, in some ways," I say. "If you believe this is the first time. Even if it's not."
"I think, for you, it is." She motions to Romeo. "What a gift. To find a man who's never loved before."
My cheeks flush. It's not an act. It's real shyness. But, hey, that's why I'm here. I lean into it. "Even if it's not… I think, with every new person, love is a little different. Even if we've loved before, we've never loved quite like this."