As my last companion joined the swaying mob, I set off in search of a less obtrusive place to be alone. Skirting the edge of the dance floor, I passed a line of bored-looking teacher chaperones. At the other end of the gym there was a long table draped in blue plastic, topped with a smattering of glittery snowflakes and a mostly empty punch bowl. I picked up a paper cup, wincing as the sugary flavor hit my tongue. The tragic fate of Arden and Miles was still sending shock waves through my system, and this wasn’t going to do my already unsettled stomach any favors.
“Is it that vinegar stuff?” asked a familiar voice.
I spun to face Alex Ritter. “What?”
He nodded at the cup in my hand. “You’re giving it a really nasty look.”
“It’s not about the punch. Though it is pretty gross.” I tossed the half-full cup into the nearest garbage can.
“So how did it work out?” He waggled his fingers at me. “Your scheme?”
“Not so great. I mean, your advice was fine, but there were unforeseen complications.” To put it mildly.
“You’re here alone?” It was hard to pinpoint his tone. Not surprised, but not entirely blasé either.
“Sort of, but not really.” I frowned as a new thought crossed my mind. “Who did you come with?”
“Apparently I should have asked Phoebe, since the two of us are so close.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Of course they’d told him; the whole cast and crew ofOthellowas probably laughing at my expense, not to mention their friends and extended family. After an agonizing few seconds, I managed to look him in the eye. Or rather, the chin. “I felt bad for you. I thought you’d been cuckolded.”
“That sounds painful.”
I opened my mouth.
“I know what it means, Merrily. And I appreciate your concern.”
“It’s all so confusing,” I said heavily.
“My family tree?”
“People. Relationships.” As so often happened in his company, my words leaped ahead of my brain. “Why do couples break up?”
“In my vast experience, you mean?” He shrugged. “Lots of reasons. A person changes. Or loses interest. Or meets someone else.”
“But doesn’t that mean they should never have been together in the first place, and the whole thing was a mistake?”
He regarded me thoughtfully, head tipped to one side. “You know, my mother is a real estate agent.”
“Okay.”
“She says the only way you learn what you really want in a house is by living in a few that miss the mark—no en suite master bath, or a detached garage. That’s how you know what to look for the next time around.”
I blinked at him. “That’s your metaphor for love? Buying and selling houses?”
Alex shrugged. “It’s more realistic than thinking the first person you date is going to be your soulmate.”
However reasonable on its face, this sounded suspiciously like a justification for playing the field. Not to mention the high probability of personal unhappiness. “I think it would be less painful if everyone waited until they were really, really settled in life, like maybe in their thirties, to get into a serious relationship. Just to minimize the odds of heartbreak.”
“But you’d miss out on so much.” He fixed me with one of his patented stares: half smolder, half amusement.
“Like what?”
“Meeting new people. Hearing their hot takes on relationships. Dancing.” He held out a hand, palm up. “Shall we?”
I frowned. “Are you being serious right now?”
“I never joke about dancing.”
