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“My abuela says that a young lady living with an unmarried man is a recipe for disaster.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. “That makes me feel better.”
Camila laughs. “She’s also, like, eighty. So I tend to tune her out sometimes.”
I can’t help but think of Wanda, the timeless bachelorette, wondering what she would have to say on the matter. I roll my eyes. She’d probably just tell me to bone him and get it over with.
“Camila,” I start carefully, thinking an impartial third party might be just the thing I need. “What would you do if you met someone you used to know... really well, but they don’t remember you?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Does that actually happen? Do you mean from childhood?”
“No, not childhood... It’s complicated.”
Camila stops playing with the settings on the table, glancing over at the instructor, who is deep in conversation with another group having difficulties. “How well did you know them?”
I mean... he’s watched me play with my nipples.
“Pretty well,” I say instead. “But it was more of an... online friendship.”
“Hm.” Camila taps her chin. “If it was mostly online... it does make more sense that they might not place you. Maybe you should just tell them? They’d probably be happy to realize it was you. Unless it ended on bad terms or something.”
I frown down at my feet. There’s no good way to explain the way that Aiden, or ratherA,and I parted ways. Which is to say we didn’t part ways at all. He just... disappeared.
“Things ended kind of weird.”
“Well,” Camila says, “maybe it’s a good thing they don’t remember then, yeah? Could be hella awkward otherwise.”
She goes back to the table to start separating the metacarpals; her words bouncing around in my head to make me both relieved and strangely... more depressed.
Maybe it’s a good thing they don’t remember.
Then why does it make me feel so shitty?
—
Aiden keeps his promise that week to make himself more present in the mornings and early afternoons, making sure that he spends as much possible time at home before he has to leave for work. A week ago, this would have elated me, but now that I know what I know, it means I am constantly on edge. I tell myself that if he hasn’t recognized me by now, there is no chance that he will. I mean, the mask and the wig I wore during my time on OnlyFans seem to have done the exact job I meant for them to,and I know that I should be relieved that Aiden seems to have no inkling of the fact that he is living with a woman he’s paid to touch herself many times over.
So whydoesit sort of bum me out? I don’twantAiden to recognize me. Hecan’t.
After a few days of awkward breakfasts and tiptoeing around him, I am grateful to be out of the house, taking Wanda up on her offer of dinner and using it as a chance to clear my head. She and Sophie instantly hit it off, which I expected, the little girl’s spunk matching Wanda’s in a way that didn’t allow for any other outcome. Like calls to like, after all.
“Now, be careful with those,” Wanda chides as Sophie picks through an assortment of souvenir shot glasses. “Some of them are older than you are.”
Sophie shows her one in particular. “Did you really get this from Alaska?”
“You’re damn right I did,” Wanda says. “I used to travel a lot when I was younger. Wanted to collect one from every state.” Wanda points down the hall. “Got some photo albums in my bedroom,” she tells Sophie. “Go get that red leather one on my bookshelf, and I’ll show you some pictures.”
Sophie’s face lights up with a nod, and she bounds off down the hall in search of her prize, leaving Wanda and me alone.
“You wanna tell me what’s up with you?”
From the couch, I frown at my friend, watching her study me from where she sits at her padded rocking chair on the other side of the living room. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t give me that,” she huffs. “You’ve been distracted since dinner. I know when something is wrong with you, girl.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” I argue. “It’s been a long day.”
Long week is more like it.
