Page 26 of Matched

Chapter Ten

Inara

As nice as it would be to play dumb, Taya won’t allow me to get away without answering her question about my first sexual encounter with my husband. But this isn’t a conversation I want to be having with anyone. I pick at the polish on my toes and grimace. Jesus. I must have been drunk when I painted them. “How was what?”

“Your one-way trip to pound town. That’s what you called it the other day at work, right?” Taya lowers her voice on the other end of the call so it’s barely a whisper. “Come on. I need ‘dicktails.’”

I take a cotton swap and add some polish remover so I can fix the disaster that are my feet. “First off, don’t ever say that. You lack the proper swag credentials to pull it off.” I pick out a dark-purple polish and roll it between my hands. “Second, pound town is pretty apt because it was pretty much all pound and nothing else.”

“That bad, huh?”

I consider the question. “Not so much bad as... super vanilla? Okay for the first time, except my husband seemed to be under the illusion that we’d done something wild and crazy, which is concerning.” I swipe off the old nail polish. The bubblegum pink was cute at first, but I need something fiercer right now, especially since Taya’s end of the line is silent. I sigh and pick up the plum-colored polish and begin painting each toe, trying to focus on the smooth swipes. But my night with Tony comes rushing back and my hands shake in response, ruining the polish. A color that is already hard enough to paint smoothly.

Taya’s trying to be caring, making excuses on the other line, but I’m too focused on fixing these nails to care. I grab some Q-Tips and dip them in the nail polish remover. The sharp, acidic smell is enough to make my nose wrinkle, so I put the call on speaker and set the phone aside. This is serious business and I’m a multitasker. I scrub at the outline of my nails, growing more irritated by the second. “God, he has so much potential. That face, and those muscles. That smile. Perfect ingredients for some serious action. But nope. The only saving grace to the whole thing is that he’s hung like a horse and he’s so supersensitive, especially around the—”

“Oh my God,” Taya interrupts, voice mildly desperate. “Please stop.”

“You asked.” I blow a curl from my face, examining each toe for any missed smeared paint. Although, doing the autopsy isn’t so much fun since his is the only dick I’ll be enjoying for some time. Maybe I should rethink my stance on making this work for longer than a year. Maybe Tony’s right and our marriage should just be a short-term arrangement.

My chest tightens. I signed up specifically in hopes of gaining a real partner who would last and somehow ended up stuck with one who has a one-year limit. Sex was supposed to be a consolation prize, at the very least.

Taya huffs. “Maybe you just have to give the guy some pointers.”

She’s right, but I’m demoralized about the whole marriage again. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for teaching. Maybe in college, but we’re in our thirties now. Shouldn’t he have figured it out on his own by now?” My toes are basically dry and shimmer a luminescent dark purple. I admire them for a moment and continue getting dressed for work. No one will see my feet in my work shoes, but I like my toes and fingers to match, keeping that whole put-together vibe going.

“Tony’s not the guy to slack on matters that are important. And the program isn’t something to be taken lightly. I’m sure he wants it to work as much as you do.”

I fall silent as my stomach churns. I haven’t told her yet that he plans to bail after a year. My chest seizes again as hopelessness rises. I can’t believe this is how things ended up. Stupid matching program. And I don’t want to explain any of this to Taya. She wouldn’t judge me for trying to make it work with Tony, even if it might be a lost cause. But my pride has taken beating after beating since I opened that IPP envelope, and I’m sick of it.

“Inara?”

“Hold on.” After slipping my feet into a pair of flip-flops, I grab my keys and make sure to feed Simon before I head out. Once I’m in my car, I transfer Taya to the speaker system and start on the relatively short drive to Shaken & Stirred, but long enough for my toenails to dry. “If we can’t get the sex right—the part that should come naturally—the rest of our marriage is doomed to die a slow and hideously painful death.”

My heart twists because I hoped we could find something real together. I actually enjoy spending time with him. He’s funny, warm, and far more caring and sharp than he likes to let on. But now, I’m almost as doubtful as the day I first opened the envelope.

“Inara, I’m not saying sex is the most important thing in the world,” Taya says.

“But it’s important for the intimacy to go hand in hand with the spiritual and mental connection.” Oh great. I sound like some poet wannabe. Yet, I can’t stop jabbering and my voice climbs in pitch. “Honestly, what’s love without passion? Without lust? Without sensuality?”

And, what am I even saying? Tony and I don’t have love. What we’d had was lust and now, based on his surprisingly bland, quick performance, even that’s in severe jeopardy. Without that? We’re two platonic roommates who barely know each other. Forced to shack up for a year for practicality’s sake.

“Keep an open mind. Tony wouldn’t be the first man to have performance anxiety. And remember, he’s probably under the microscope with Redding, just like Jim was.”

Maybe she’s right. Back in high school, I’d always choked on tests. My vagina isn’t AP Calculus, but I can understand why he might bomb under pressure. And, if I’m being honest, I’m partially responsible for that pressure. I chew the inside of my cheek while some of the tension drains from my shoulders. Plus, now that the shock is wearing off, it is kind of endearing to think he’s not all the talk he pretends to be.

I spend the rest of the drive to Shaken & Stirred grilling Taya about her further adventures with her husband’s interest in anal stimulation because, sadly enough, it’s preferable than talking about my own life at the moment. By the time I stride through the front door of the seaside whiskey bar and restaurant, I’m in a much better mood. Plus, there’s something peaceful about this place in the mornings. The empty farm tables stretch across the floor, their dark, wooden tops gleaming under splashes of sunlight. Mellow tunes pipe in through the scattered speakers instead of the late-afternoon battle of voices. Shaken & Stirred isn’t super fancy, by any means, but it has a comfortable elegance that makes the bar a popular happy hour spot.

Taya walks in shortly after I do to begin her shift while I relieve Megan, one of the new servers. Business is slow this time of day, and when I’m not sitting, wiping down dirty menus—seriously, who splashes this much ketchup on a menu?—or seating the few people who wander inside for breakfast mimosas, I help Taya roll silverware in the back.

I’m standing at the booth contemplating whether this plum shade was really the ideal nail color when a couple of familiar figures step through the door. Mami and Bennett have met for brunch once a month since before their divorce, and it’s a tradition neither one seems too eager to break. I plaster a smile on my face and pick up two menus. I’m genuinely happy to see Bennett, and when he finally glances up at me, his eyes brighten with joy.

“Twice in two days. I’m a lucky, lucky man.” He laughs as he wraps me up in a hug. “What did I do to earn such enchanting company?”

Bennett’s always done everything he can for me. Like the way he started reading up on stepparenting the moment he asked my mother to marry him. He had these funny one-liners that always made me laugh, especially whenever I went through hard times while growing up. And he has to be the absolute king of picking up the check, a fact not lost on my mother.

“You two knew perfectly well I was working today.” I shoot a tiny glare at my mom and she lifts her chin in defiance.

We head to one of the circular wooden booths in Taya’s section, and when she spots Bennett and Mami, her expression undergoes a paroxysm of emotions—a wincing smile followed by one more genuine—that would have made me laugh if I hadn’t done the exact same thing a moment ago. It’s not that my mother is a horror show. She’s just a lot to take on, especially when she’s in the middle of a divorce. Between her painfully obvious attempts to get back with Bennett as the threat of single life looms ever larger and the need she’d had to fix me up with a man since the day I turned twenty-nine—literally anyone would do at this point, Inara—I’ve been tempted to divorce her myself. I drop their menus onto the table, hoping to escape before they draw me into a conversation there’s no getting out of. “Enjoy your meal.”

---