Page 37 of The Seemingly Impossible Love Life of Amanda Dean

She took a moment and gazed at Edmund. He was a good guy. They might’ve fought sometimes, and they didn’t always agree on everything, and sometimes he didn’t think things through all the way—like tonight—but his smile was sincere, and he just looked so…so…vulnerable.

“Yes,” she choked out. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Chapter Nineteen

March–April 2009

Mandy hated the smellof Theo’s apartment. It wasn’t that it was dirty—although it was always a mess—but whatever his cleaning person used, because yes, he had a cleaning person, the scent seemed to linger. It was sour and floral, and those just didnotgo together.

“I have so much stuff I have to get done today,” Theo whispered in Mandy’s ear as they snuggled in his bed. As he kissed Mandy’s neck and ran his hand up her shirt, she tried not to focus on the smell. But trying not to focus on it made her focus on it even more, which made making out not as enjoyable.

“Yeah, totally, so do I,” she said. It wasn’t that he was bad at it; it was just that Mandy wasn’t even sure she really liked him all that much, which made her feel guilty, but she was pretty sure Theo was using her too. He was Mandy’s attempt at a one-night stand that had lasted a month already. She’d only wanted to let off some steam. To do something that wouldn’t be as stressful as school or her internship. It was supposed to be a funfling. But as the days went on, it became more and more work, and Mandy knew less and less how to end it with him. “Maybe we should put this on pause for another time,” she encouraged.

“We totally should.” But Theo didn’t stop, and to be fair, Mandy wasn’t sure she wanted him to. Theo was an escape from all the things she didn’t want to think about or do.

In most regards, Theo was a catch. He played water polo and came from what her roommate called “a good family”—meaning his parents were rich—which explained why he had his own apartment and a cleaning person. He was good-looking in the traditional sense, with a sharp jaw and greenish-gray eyes that didn’t seem natural but were.

But he liked horror movies, and Mandy liked rom-coms. He enjoyed the club, and Mandy preferred dinner and drinks. He liked to work out, and Mandy hated to sweat. Being with Theo was the first time Mandy didn’t try the way she had in all her other relationships. She would steal fries from his plate, and poop in his bathroom, because when it all came down to it, she didn’t really care. And yet for some reason, it was working. “I could skip washing my hair, though, you know?” she said.

“Mmmmmhhh,” he hummed into her hair and softly bit her neck. “Clean hair is overrated.”

She seemed to intrigue Theo more and more. He’d often tell her that he loved that she was different from the other girls he dated and that it was rad that she was so confident, and if Mandy were being completely honest, she started to like these compliments. It had been a long time since someone had said things like that to her. Nice things. Things that didn’t make her second-guess herself. And despite the smell of the apartment, his sheets were so soft, and his shower had the best water pressure, and hehad his own cappuccino machine in the kitchen. And he always tried to satisfy Mandy.

It wasn’t that Mandy didn’t like him, she just wasn’t sure she wasin likewith him—which, yes, were totally different things.

Theo’s hand slid down Mandy’s stomach and then lower, and she melted into him. She did like how he took the lead. How he always wanted to make sure she felt good. And how he liked to make sure she orgasmed first—and often.

“I really do need to get going,” he said, but again he didn’t stop.

“Uh-huh.” Mandy raked her nails gently across his six-pack. “Don’t let me keep you.” She leaned in and nibbled on his ear.

“Well, maybe I can be late.”

“Sounds good to me.”

And he kissed her again.

This was them. It was easy and maybe easy was exactly what Mandy needed right then. Maybe she deserved easy for once.

Mandy stood in the artstudio, staring at one of the most important projects in her life, trying to decide why it sucked so bad. The scent of turpentine hung heavy in the air like a humid summer day. She had booked the time weeks ago thinking that if she needed the extra hours to put the final touches together, it would be nice, but she wasn’t close to final at this point. She didn’t even feel like she was halfway done.

If she’d spent more time working and less time at Theo’s, she wouldn’t be in this position. Not that he had forced her to bethere, and not that she didn’t want to be. The last couple of weeks had been great. She got him to ask his cleaning person to use a different brand of disinfectant, so his apartment didn’t smell so terrible. He even started introducing her to his friends as his girlfriend, and honestly, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. When other girls gave her thewhat-does-he-see-in-herlook, she inwardly celebrated. Because what wouldn’t he see in her? Mandy was a great girlfriend. Attentive, loyal, caring. And while she wasn’t as tall or as lean, or what society would call “beautiful,” Mandy wasn’t bad-looking either. She may have been vertically challenged, and her thighs rubbed together when she walked, but she liked herself and wasn’t ashamed of her body, even if the beauty magazines told her she should be. She would think back to the thing Isa used to always say to her. “You have to love yourself first.” And while Mandy wasn’t sure she was there, she felt like she could be on her way, which was a huge leap for her.

But in the art studio now, there was no huge leap to be had. She stood back from the newest piece she was working on to try to get some perspective on it. Even though the room was large, it felt like the walls were closing in on her.

It was the yellow. It was too mustard and not enough canary. Or the green had too much yellow in it, and that was throwing the whole thing off.

She was ready to chuck her brush at the canvas just to see what would happen. Maybe it could help spark some sort of something to make it better. It couldn’t possibly make it any worse.

And what’s this purple smear down the center?her professor would ask her.

It’s the culmination of anger and frustration trying to burst from the canvas,she could explain to him.

No way would that fly. She backed up farther and then walked to the right, then to the left, and back right again.

Thankfully her cell phone stopped her from another trip back and forth. She dropped her brush and picked up the call. “Save me,” she muttered into the phone.

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad,” Isa said.

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