Her mother gave a heavy sigh. “You need to keep him happy, Effie. It’s not easy for people like you to find happiness. Don’t squander it.”
“People like me,” Ophelia repeated numbly.
“Mentally ill.” Her tone was patronizing, as though she wasn’t Ophelia’s carbon copy in that department.
“Right.” She stood up, staring at her bloodshot eyes in the time-worn mirror.
“I’m sure you two can work this out. Maybe you can meet him halfway. You know, he?—”
Ophelia hung up. Her phone rang again immediately, and she shut it off before slipping it into her pocket.
She emerged from the bathroom in a miasma of her own shame, head held low. The hostess side-eyed her as she passed by with a mumbled apology. A bell over the door jangled cheerfully as she stepped back out onto the street.
Part of her wanted to phone up a friend and ask for help, but she’d stopped trying to make them years ago, convinced she’d only spoil it all in the end. The pain of rejection had seemed worse than the pain of loneliness, and slowly her social circle had narrowed to Logan, alone.
She thought of calling Laura, but… what would she say, really? Wouldn’t it jeopardize Logan’s career if she complained about him to his coworkers? She couldn’t do that.
You need to keep him happy, Effie. It’s not easy for people like you to find happiness. Don’t squander it.
She sighed in misery, the warmth of her breath thawing her cold-numbed nose.
He was trying, wasn’t he? He’d recognized her horror at the thought of sleeping with another person, so he’d brought home the android. A toy, he’d called it. And wasn’t that all it was? Just a machine that looked like a person—basically a walking vibrator.
She could do that, couldn’t she? If he was just a thing, an object, it wouldn’t feel like cheating. It would be like using a toy on herself while he watched, and that thought didn’t turn her stomach over. Maybe it was all a matter of perspective.
She didn’t want to lose him. She couldn’t.
Closing the sanitizer with her shoes tucked safely inside, Ophelia straightened and stepped into the apartment.
Logan lounged on the couch, the news muted on the TV as he fiddled with something on his holotab. The android sat next to him in that ramrod straight way that would have made her abs tremble with effort. He regarded her with quiet, clinical interest.
“Hi,” she murmured, looking past him to her fiancé.
Logan looked up at her with an inscrutable expression. “Hey.”
“Um… Can we talk?”
After a pause, he nodded, setting down his holotab and gesturing toward her reading chair in the corner. She crossed to it and sat down on the ottoman, folding her hands in her lap.
“I’ve been thinking.” Her voice wavered, and she cleared her throat before continuing. “About last night. About… about meeting you halfway.”
A flicker of hope lit in his eyes, breaking the stoicism of his expression. “And?”
Her gaze flitted nervously to the android sitting beside him, the android she was about to…
She looked away quickly.
“I want to try,” she said with more certainty than she felt. “For you. I’ll try.”
There was a moment where she thought maybe he was going to tell her not to bother, but that familiar, brilliant smile of his took over his face. He stood and crossed the room to pull her to her feet, kissing her deeply. When he pulled away, he cupped her face in both hands and beamed down at her.
“Thank you,” he breathed. “I know you’re nervous, but you’re going to enjoy it, I promise.”
She smiled, hoping it reached her eyes.
“Thirty-One?” he called over his shoulder.
“Yes?” the bot replied.
