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 I found myself wanting to stay a little longer after. To hear a little more about his life. I found myself wondering what he kept on his shelf. If he had really read Eat, Pray, Love. If he'd read some memoir I wrote one day. If I'd ever write a memoir one day. If I'd really let him into my head.
I found myself wanting to share all that pillow talk.
For the first time, since I fell out of love.
Was it because I got to do things my way? Or did we really connect?
Our series on sex with an escort went even more viral. We didn’t just double our listenership. We’ve reached a hundred times the people we normally do.
That’s everything I’ve wanted for the last few years.
I should be over the moon.
Instead, I’m tired and empty. Instead, my shoulders are heavy and my heart hurts.
I wanted to do this with Romeo. But not like this.How do I make this right?
I didn't tell Romeo the truth. I didn't outline the risks.
I need to do something.
But what?
Meredith meets me at baggage claim. She's in one of her usual cool girl cotton travel dresses, but she doesn't look carefree the way she typically does. She's wearing the stress of the situation all over her face.
Still, she smiles and holds up a sign that says Ivy Vaughn.
“Maybe you should write Doctor O on there,” I say. “We’re a few days out from that discovery.”
“The room would go too wild. Everyone loves Doctor O.”
“Not funny,” I say.
She points to my face as she lowers the sign. “Then why do I see a smile?”
I laugh. I can't help it. The situation is absurd. After years of lying, I finally go viral for telling the truth—about sex I actually had—in exchange for lying to someone's family.
It's almost like a message from the universe.
Honesty is the best policy.
I can still make that choice for myself, but I shouldn’t have made it for him. That was wrong.
"It was my fault, you know," she says. "I’m sorry. You know how I get when I’m tired and lonely. I just, I wanted to connect, and I kept running my mouth, and--"
"It's okay, Mer." I throw my arms around her. "It was a matter of time.”
"You're not mad?"
"You didn't spill on purpose."
"Of course not."
I squeeze her.
She squeezes back. "Okay, good. I was so worried. And I know you're freaking out, but this has been great for us. Everyone is digging into your identity, and it’s giving us so much attention. The internet loves a mystery. And we can throw them off if we want. There are a few other women who are viable candidates. We can point to them if you want. On the podcast or via a publicist." She motions for me to follow her. "I got a car service. Air conditioning all the way to the city." She stops at baggage claim. "Did you check something or…"
I shake my head and hold up my purse. "Just this."
"I guess you can borrow a dress and a pair of underwear." She laughs. "That's a total Mer move. Well, an old Mer move. The new Mer is centered and Zen. And she only has sex when she intends to have sex, so she packs a pair of panties, or leaves enough time to shower at home."
"She sounds really fun."
She play-swats me."
"No, really. I like this for you." I follow her to the car waiting outside and climb into the air-conditioned backseat. "You seem calm. Considering."
"I am. I think." She looks to me as the car pulls onto the street. "It's been good for us, too. Well, for Sex and the OC. Our numbers are way up. Requests are booming. We have other advertiser offers, for twice as much money. A few publishers reached out with book requests."
"Non-fiction?"
"And memoir," she says. "You're Miss Thang right now. Or Doctor Thang, I guess. You can do whatever you want. Even if you stay anonymous."
Stay anonymous. That’s tempting. It would be nice, to hide behind my persona, to never have to marry the two sides of myself, to never admit the woman who knows everything about sex is the same woman who put up with bad sex, and a bad marriage, for a long time. "I want to fix things for Romeo," I say. "I didn't ask his permission to out him."
She nods okay, that's fair. "We could find a sex worker who doesn’t mind being outed. Someone willing to come on the podcast and say, yes, I am the sexy mystery man. Someone who wants the attention.”"
Maybe that’s the smart move, but it feels wrong. Dishonest.
If it’s what he wants, I’ll do it. I’ll give him that option.
But I need to do more. I need to do something else for myself. "I need to apologize. Make it right somehow. Or… I could stay in New York in hiding for the next ten years. I'm not recognizable yet, am I?"