Page 137 of The Plus One Pact

"Why would I be against you helping women take care of themselves?" she asks.

"You have to admit…" His eyes go to me. "You've said unkind things about Ivy's divorce."

"No," she says.

"Yes," he holds strong.

I try to look anywhere else. Do they really need to discuss me like this?

"I understand why you see it that way," he says. "I understand your feelings about marriage. But you should know I see it as an asset. Failure is the best teacher. Dad always says that."

She nods your father does say that. "But it was so recent. You two… are you sure you're not rushing into things?"

"We're taking it slow." That's true. Sort of. In a certain way.

She nods, okay, accepting the answer, taking in the new image of Romeo as a sort of lonely woman's superhero.

He is.

Just not in the way she expects.

"How much do you charge for this?" she asks.

"Three hundred dollars an hour," he says. "Or two-thousand dollars for a complete financial plan, for women with assets over four-hundred thousand dollars."

"Are you talking to divorce lawyers?" she asks. "You could get more clients."

I stifle a laugh. That's a funny imagine. Romeo soliciting clients outside the family courthouse.

He looks to me with a smile.

Amara shakes her head. "Why is this funny?"

"Because we've already had our first fight," he says. "Because I work too much. Ivy wants more time with me."

Amara nods her approval. "Are you aligned there? Do you have the same financial goals?"

"I already own my apartment," he says.

She looks to me. "And you?"

"I owned a place with my ex. He bought me out." That was another way I felt like I was going backwards. From homeowner to renter. At first, I hated it. I hated the temporary feeling of being in an apartment. But I've learned to appreciate it. "I want to stay in my own place for a while. At least a year."

I expect Amara to balk, but she doesn't. She nods. "Is this one thing you tell women? To keep their own apartment?"

"If it makes sense for them financially," he says. "It's cheaper to share the rent."

"But it makes you vulnerable too," she says. "You need to consider that."

"I'll keep that in mind," he says.

"I'm glad you have Ivy." She nods. "You need her point-of-view, as a divorcee. Otherwise, you'll miss things. Men always do."

My cheeks flush. This is the last thing I expect—acceptance from a woman who usually hates divorce.

She moves on quickly. "How much did you make last year?"

"Mama, I didn't share my tax return with Ivy. It's only been three months," he says.