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“Is that some kind of insult?”
“Not at all. We’re alike, actually. I work for what I have too. I wasn’t born with any of this.”
She hesitates, fingers drumming against her lips. “Where were you born?”
“The Midwest. A small town a couple hours outside of Chicago. Father was a roofer, mother was a seamstress.”
“Blue-collar upbringing, huh? Honestly, I would’ve guessed you’re the son of a California oil baron.”
“I was the first person in my family to go to college.” I feel a sense of pride bloom in my chest. It makes me think of my father, sitting at his old, peeling table, drinking his fifth Miller Lite, grinning at me.Boy, you’re the smart one in the fucking family. Go to school and don’t look back.
“Me too,” she says cautiously. “What are the chances of that?”
“Is it really such a shock that we have things in common?”
“Well, my parents are swingers now, and they’re having a nice time in Paris with their quadrople relationship. How about you? Are your parents swinging with their Midwestern buddies?”
“God, no, my parents would sooner throw themselves off a bridge than swing.” I look at the treadmill and turn the speed up. They were conservative people, hard workers, serious types. They saved and saved, planned and worried and saved from more, until it didn’t matter in the end. “My dad passed away from cancer four years ago. My mom lives in a retirement facility.”
“Oh, I’m sorry about your dad.”
“It’s all right. I take care of my mom now. Financially, at least, and I visit as much as I can.” Which isn’t as often as I’d like.
“Do you have a good relationship with her?”
“I do,” I say, tilting my head. “But she’s always been sort of… distant. Closed off.”
“I wonder where you gotthatfrom,” she says, grinning.
“Right, just like how you got your love of swinging from your parents.”
She laughs and flips me off. “Okay, I have a question for you, and please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m just trying to get to know my supposed husband.”
“If you’re about to ask if I love going down on women, the answer is yes, absolutely.” I lick my lips, thinking about her legs wrapped around my face.
Her cheeks turn red. “Do you really have to do that? No, I was going to ask if you’ve ever been in a relationship before. Like, a real one.”
I hesitate, some of my excitement fizzling away. I don’t look at her as I turn the speed up until I’m jogging slowly. “Yes, but it was a long time ago.”
“What happened?”
“We ended.” I don’t elaborate. She waits for me to say more, but I don’t want to talk about her. Not with Fiona, not with anyone.
“Okay, keep that one close to the chest, that’s fine.” She stretches her long, lean legs. “As you’re aware, I dated one guy in college, and he is now engaged to someone else.”
“You’re married. You win.”
“Hm, actually, that’s true.” She grins at me. “Hey, you’re useful for something.”
“Glad to be of service.”
She pushes herself to her feet. “We’re flying to Gloucester in a couple days to visit with the Crowleys. I think we should do this a few more times. You know, so we can plausibly pretend to know each other.”
“That’s a good idea,” I say, glancing at her. “Are you sure you’re not just trying to get information about my sex life? I’ll show you the piercing if you’re so desperate.”
She blushes again. “Absolutely not, no thank you.” Then clears her throat. “But you really do like going down on women?”
“Love it,” I admit. “I haven’t been in a serious relationship in a long time, but that doesn’t mean I let myself grow rusty.”
