Page 48 of The Fiance Dilemma

SAM: I think it’s a reasonable run. I couldn’t see myself getting married so young.

NICK: You’re in your midtwenties, Sam.

SAM: Exactly. And do you see a hubby by my side? So, next?

NICK: (short-lived sigh) Okay. Here things start getting interesting… Number two is Greg. Happened between two and three years after Shawn. Former yoga instructor. And I say former because apparently—and brace yourself—he was so absolutely devastated after the breakup—or well, being left at the altar, I should say—that he fled. Not the place. Or the state. The country.

SAM: Stop.

NICK: I’m serious. (chuckles) He’s in Thailand now. And he runs a retreat. We’ve checked and it exists. These are facts.

SAM: Oh my God. You’re telling me the guy went fullEat, Pray, Love? I… (huffs with disbelief) This is amazing. Addictive. I want more.

NICK: Ricky. That’s number three. And boy, is he a good number three.

SAM: (laughs) What does that even mean, and why are you making that face?

NICK: Because he’s a professional athlete, duh.

SAM: STOP. WH—

NICK: (clicks tongue) Don’t get too excited. It’s not football. Or hockey. It’s soccer. But the big leagues, MLS, I think it’s called. Last name is Richardson, for those who want to google him. (lowers voice) That means that you totally should.

SAM: (pause) Dang. He’s… whoa. He’s hot. Reminds me of like a European version of Joe Burrow? Does that make sense? Doesn’t matter, I’m switching to soccer. Officially a soccer girlie. How could she leave this? Wait—important question: Are soccer wives considered WAGs?

NICK: I think they might be the OG WAGs. And I would have definitely put a ring on that, too. Something must have been amiss. Our source told us the engagement was fast and short. Who knows. Doesn’t matter anyway, result was the same.

SAM: No, but seriously. Ricky Richardson, I’ll marry you with paper rings. Unless… Do we not have any dirt on them? It’s hard to believe that she’ll run without them doing anything. I’m a girls’ girl and I need to point that out.

NICK: You always do point it out, Sam. But before tackling that, let’s touch base on Duncan. Aguirre. He’s number four, and the timeline places him a little less than two years ago. So recent. He’s a politician. (laughs with disbelief) Who has gone all quiet on us after being so chatty the first time we reached out. He’s running for senator in South Carolina, and that’s probably why. This story has blown up, after all.

SAM: (snaps fingers three times) Yes, it has.

NICK: His office keeps declining any comment, but we’ll persist. Hey Duncan? If you’re listening, pick up the phone. Answer our DMs. We know you want to. (pause) Until that happens… You can tell us in the comments what you thought of this ep inThe Underwood Affair.Because girlie has surely been busy collecting them like Pokémon. (chuckles) Reminds me of a certain pop singer and songwriter I shall not bring into this because I’d like to avoid getting canceled.

SAM: Hey. No TS slander, you know the rules.

NICK: And if anyone’s noticing, we’ve skipped number five. That’s because we’re saving the best for last.

“Hypothetically… What do you think is our aesthetic?”

Matthew considered my question. “That depends.”

I shot him a bland look over the dozens of papers, trays of snacks, and empty glasses covering my kitchen table. “On what?”

“On howhypotheticalthe hypothetical aesthetic is.”

I pondered his answer while I cringed at the mess. Ugh, I’d tried so badly to channel Adalyn. I even had color-coded binders and plastic sleeves with sticky labels. It wasn’t working. “Are you deflecting so you don’t need to ask me what an aesthetic is?”

“Give me a little credit,” he said before popping a kale chip into his mouth. “I’m a little better than weaponized incompetence,snuggle bear.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, feigning that I wasn’t impressed byhis answer. Or distracted by his basic white T-shirt, the short sleeves slightly rolled up mid-bicep. “That’s the worst one yet. We haven’t even snuggled. I could be horrible at it for all you know.”

Something sparked in his eyes. I wondered if he’d ask me to show him. It would—technically—be within the rules. And a part of me I was struggling to keep quiet was very aware of that.

“Our aesthetic should reflect who we are as a couple,” he continued.

I considered that, pretending once again I didn’t love that answer. For someone who had organized so many weddings and been in this exact position so many times, none of the men who had preceded Matthew had ever given me an answer like that. “That’s correct,” I conceded. “And that’s probably why I’m struggling with it. I can’t envision something that doesn’t exactly exist.”

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