Page 74 of The Plus One Pact

And see if the sex is even better on it? Right. I do. But I'm tired. And I need to conserve my energy for tomorrow. "Will you forgive me if I go to bed early?"

"It's your night. You can do whatever the fuck you want with it."

"Walk me to my room," I say.

He offers his hand. When I take it, he leads me into the house, up the stairs, all the way to the big, beautiful room.

He even kisses me at the door. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." And when I slip into the room, I really do feel like I said goodnight to a lover, to a person I desperately want to see again tomorrow.

I'm stepping into my role.

For better or worse.

The warmth of Romeo’s kiss helps me slip into a deep sleep. I wake with the sun, refreshed and ready to start the day. A rare state for me.

Then a knock on my door derails everything.

"Good morning, Ivy," Amara calls. "Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen in five minutes. We're starting our first activity. A breakfast challenge. You and Romeo versus Cynthia and Daniel. Winners take all."

Chapter Seventeen

Romeo

Breakfast.

What would Ivy want to eat? How the hell did I miss that one?

Usually, breakfast is the first thing I cover. Women always blush when I ask so how do you take your coffee? I want to know how to fix it for you tomorrow morning.

It's a cheesy pick-up line, yes, but it's not the content that matters. It's the delivery. The way I smile, look into someone's eyes, set her at ease.

That's what I'm good at. Making women comfortable.

And I covered the coffee part—

She's a tea drinker.

But a breakfast challenge is a step too far, even for me. I watch Mom escort Ivy to patio table outside, the one where Cynthia is already sitting. They make an odd trio.

Even though they're all dressed in some version of California casual, they don't fit together.

Ivy looks awkward in her teal sundress and sandals, as if she's not sure what to do in weekend clothes.

Cynthia's oversized linen suit overwhelms her narrow frame. And, well, it's just strange to see Cynthia in any kind of suit. Even one that's clearly designed for time off.

Mom is the only one who fits into the relaxed atmosphere, with her orange linen dress, despite her sky-high espadrilles and her understated good jewelry.

Is she torturing the two of them?

Does Mom secretly disapprove of divorce?

It's not the image I have of her. She's not exactly a devoted Catholic. She has plenty of divorced friends.

Maybe it's different when it's my girlfriend.

Maybe she's a hypocrite.