Page 59 of The Plus One Pact

"That's how I know I won't lose her to Daniel," I say.

In Italian, Mom tells me not to be so stupid, that I've always beat Daniel for dates, that Daniel is madly in love and would never look at another woman. But she appreciates my concern. Because it means I know I have something valuable. A doctor. Smart and beautiful.

Not an MD , I correct, but she doesn't care. A doctor all the same.

And how much of this is about Daniel, huh? Mom presses. How did I find someone so quickly, with such convenient timing? What luck.

Ivy watches, not following, as far as I can tell. Though I never did ask if she spoke Italian.

Maybe she understands every single work.

"Romeo, drinks, sweetheart. Thank you." Mom switches back to English and motions to the dining table, inviting Ivy to sit. "Or the couch if you prefer."

I don't need another hint. I find the liqueur in the fridge, pour three small glasses, and return to Mom making Ivy laugh.

My first instinct kicks in. The defensiveness I typically feel with my family. But there's no need for that now. This is how it was with Daniel and Cynthia too.

Wasn't it?

I didn't pay enough attention.

I bring the drinks to the table and take a seat next to my fake girlfriend.

What does a boyfriend do in this scenario? I try to recall the last time I was in an actual relationship. There was a girl in college. We dated for a few months. But it wasn't the sort of relationship Mom would consider important. It was mostly physical.

Daniel.

What the hell does he do?

Nothing. He barely touches his fiancée. He barely touches anyone. Another way he adopted American culture. But he's always been that way. I've always been different.

Concern fills Mom's eyes as she glances at me. She's worried about something. Maybe that fact I'm still sitting here, wondering if I should touch my girlfriend.

I place my hand on Ivy's wrist. "Don't tell Mama if you don't like it. Her ego won't be able to take it." I play it off as a perfectionist streak.

"It wouldn't mean anything if I didn't. I'm not a foodie." Ivy smiles softly.

"I know, mi reigna, but I want to protect you," I say.

Mom looks between us with curiosity. I suppose it is a strange sight, the prodigal playboy in love.

Or maybe she's well aware this is bullshit.

I try to pretend I don't notice.

"My parents always toast to health." Ivy raises her glass. "If you have that, what else do you need?"

"Wise." Mom raises her glass as well. "Salud." She takes a long sip and smiles. "Perfect."

"Your compliments to the chef," I add.

Ivy lets out a low sigh. "Oh. That's delicious."

Mom smiles. "Maybe you do have good taste after all."

"She must. If she's with me," I say.

Mom laughs. "Yes, sweetheart, you are god's gift to women." She shakes her head. "His father was the same way, you know, god rest his soul. Certain he was the most handsome man in the world. Not that he was wrong. And certain he was the most skilled lover. Not that he was wrong there either."