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)
"We had a great time together. Great sex. Long days at the beach. There was something about her presence I loved. I didn't need to talk about anything. I could just lie in her bed while she sketched me. Or while I studied for a test."
"That almost sounds innocent," I say.
"I guess, in a way it was." He shakes his head as if to say just not the way people usually mean it. "She'd been in relationships before. I hadn't. So, I didn't realize we never actually talked. I didn't know much about her, here." He taps his head. "Or here even." He puts his hand over his heart. "One day, she woke up, and she realized that. She didn't want to be with some heartless business student. Even if he was handsome and witty. No." He laughs. "I added witty. She didn't care about that. She thought talking was wasting air. She was… intense. I loved it, but I didn't love her. I loved the idea of her, the idea of loving someone."
"I get that."
"After we broke up, it was obvious. I was trying it on. Maybe that's what all relationships are. You try someone on. See how they make you feel, if they fit into your life, if your family approves."
"Did they?" I ask.
"Dad loved her. Daniel, no, but he never approves of anyone."
"Amara?" I ask.
He taps his chin, trying to remember. "I don't think so. I don't think she tried hard enough to learn Italian."
“But she’s fluent in Spanish,” I say.
“That’s Mom.” He shakes his head at the memory. "She's always been particular."
"She still is. I, uh… I don't think she likes me."
Surprise spills over his expression.
"I guess that's what I should tell you, really. She made it clear my divorce is an issue. So, uh, what do you want to do if that's how this goes?"
"If she doesn't approve because you've been divorced?" he asks.
I nod. "Because I think that's how it's going to go. She's going to take you aside and tell you she doesn't approve. And then, there goes your wedding present. There goes the money to pay off your condo. So if you want to call this early, I understand. I don't want to waste your time."
He looks at me funny. "Is that what you want, Ivy? Do you want to call this early? I won't stop you. I never would. If you want to walk away now, just say the word, and I'll drive you home."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Romeo
I'm not bluffing.
Not exactly.
After all, I'm not kidnapping the poor woman. She's an adult with free will. If she wants to go, she can.
But I'm not nearly as okay with it as I suggest.
Watching doubt creep over Ivy's expression, I suddenly understand why most people don't make use of my strategy.
Sure, it's easy to let my family believe I'm off working contract gigs (even if they don't quite buy it). It's smart to use a fake relationship to convince them I'm capable of commitment.
But there's a cost.
My lack of honesty means a lack of intimacy too. My relationship with Daniel is built on the years before I started this line of work. He doesn't believe a thing about my new life.
He sees through it, senses the dishonesty.
That's why he doesn't trust me. It's not the only reason—he saw me as a screw-up for a long time—but it's part of it.
I'm too used to transactional relationships. To pretending I'm whoever the client wants me to be. To people who know I'll leave the second they tire of me, who know I won't come back unless they pay my fee.
There's a transparency to trading money for company, but it breeds another kind of dishonesty. After all, they're paying me to pretend I'm interested. And I'm asking them to believe the ruse.
Sure, I'm good at this game. But maybe I'm not good at any of the rest.
I wipe my hands on my slacks. They're wet. Why are they wet?
I don't sweat over women's responses. I don't get nervous.
But the body doesn't lie—
I'm terrified.
And it's not because I might lose my brother's trust. Not solely, anyway.
Ivy takes her time considering the question, leaving me in suspense. She's not an impulsive person. I'll give her that much.
"No." She looks me in the eyes. "I don't want to leave."
My shoulders fall in relief. I don’t want her to leave. I want her here. Even if it’s only as long as we play this game. I really like her. I really, really like her.
"But I don't want to pretend to be someone I'm not either," she says. "I'm not rushing to get married again. Or be the perfect wife. I don't even know if I want to be a wife again."
"Okay."
"That simple. Okay?" she asks.
"This was my idea," I say. "You never promised results."