Page 120 of The Plus One Pact

And people do have all sorts of arrangements.

It's better to decide yes, monogamy is right for me, and it means this to me, than to assume it's the only choice, and it only means one thing.

I close my eyes and try to imagine that future. A world where I can fall in love, build a life with someone. It would be nice, having a boyfriend with the sort of income a high-end escort demands. Certainly.

But the thought of him spending the night with clients? Or coming home smelling like other women? Or even smiling, with pride, about his work?

I don't think so.

But for some reason, I don't want to come out and say it yet. I don't want to ask the question would you quit this job for love. We're not there yet.

But I do like him. And he likes me. It means something, that neither of us expected this but we found it anyway.

Maybe that’s enough. Maybe I don’t need more from him. Maybe I can appreciate this for what it is.

Because nothing is forever. Not marriage or diamonds or love. Eventually, we die, the sun goes supernova, the universe implodes.

Everything ends.

So what if this ends a little sooner than the end of my life? I can still enjoy the ride. I’m determined to enjoy the ride.

So, I ask another question. "What's the closest you've come to love?"

Surprise fills his eyes. He was expecting another question. He smiles, happy to answer. "The woman I dated before Sasha pitched the idea," he says. "She was an artist. Beautiful. Funny. And shy the way you are. This outer innocence that hid an inner boldness."

How can he make a story about another woman flatter me? He is skilled. As a professional. Or maybe he's just charming. There's nothing wrong with that.

"We had a great time together. Great sex. Long days at the beach. There was something about her presence I loved. I didn't need to talk about anything. I could just lie in her bed while she sketched me. Or while I studied for a test."

"That almost sounds innocent," I say.

"I guess, in a way it was." He shakes his head as if to say just not the way people usually mean it. "She'd been in relationships before. I hadn't. So, I didn't realize we never actually talked. I didn't know much about her, here." He taps his head. "Or here even." He puts his hand over his heart. "One day, she woke up, and she realized that. She didn't want to be with some heartless business student. Even if he was handsome and witty. No." He laughs. "I added witty. She didn't care about that. She thought talking was wasting air. She was… intense. I loved it, but I didn't love her. I loved the idea of her, the idea of loving someone."

"I get that."

"After we broke up, it was obvious. I was trying it on. Maybe that's what all relationships are. You try someone on. See how they make you feel, if they fit into your life, if your family approves."

"Did they?" I ask.

"Dad loved her. Daniel, no, but he never approves of anyone."

"Amara?" I ask.

He taps his chin, trying to remember. "I don't think so. I don't think she tried hard enough to learn Italian."

“But she’s fluent in Spanish,” I say.

“That’s Mom.” He shakes his head at the memory. "She's always been particular."

"She still is. I, uh… I don't think she likes me."

Surprise spills over his expression.

"I guess that's what I should tell you, really. She made it clear my divorce is an issue. So, uh, what do you want to do if that's how this goes?"

"If she doesn't approve because you've been divorced?" he asks.

I nod. "Because I think that's how it's going to go. She's going to take you aside and tell you she doesn't approve. And then, there goes your wedding present. There goes the money to pay off your condo. So if you want to call this early, I understand. I don't want to waste your time."