Page 95 of The Plus One Pact

I really do.

And that's scary. Because the last person I liked was my ex-husband. And look how that turned out.

I know I shouldn't obsess over what happened or why. That's my brain, trying to pattern recognize, thinking If I just solve WHY this went bad, I'll never get hurt again. But it's not true.

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."