Page 37 of If the Ring Fits

“Learning basic stuff about each other. Siblings, where we’re from, foods we hate, allergies… things people in a relationship would know about each other.”

She grins at me. “Let me guess, you made me a spreadsheet?”

I have, in fact, typed her a list. “Shouldn’t computer programmers love spreadsheets?”

“We do.” Rowena nods, chewing enthusiastically on her frittata. She looks more healthy, livelier. “Just not about our romantic lives, perhaps, fake or otherwise. But I’ll make you a list and then I can quiz you on it.”

“Great. We should also decide what the official story for how we met is.”

She finishes chewing before saying, “We should stick to reality as much as possible. We used to work in the same building, bumped into each other in the elevator every morning or something until you asked me out. I mean…” She falters, a soft blush creeping up her cheeks. “If you asking me out”—she points at herself self-consciously—“might be believable.”

I stop cutting into the frittata and lower my fork and knifeover the plate, pinning her down with a stare. “I don’t date. But if I did, I’d ask you out.”

Rowena dips her chin as she asks, “You don’t date, like ever?”

“I stopped a while ago. Anytime I tried to see someone on the regular, soon the complaints about me being married to my job started, and I just got fed up.” I shrug. “Didn’t see the point of trying for a relationship anymore.”

“What do you do for sex?” she blurts, then her eyes widen as if she regrets the impulsive question. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry?—”

“I have people for that.”

“Oh, okay.” Her gaze shifts to her plate.

“You sound the opposite ofokay.”

“No, no.” She’s looking everywhere but at me. “I’ve got nothing against sex workers.”

I rub the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t meanprostitutes.”

Rowena meets my eyes again. “You said you hadpeople, like the ones you sent to help me move. I thought you meant for hire.”

“No, just women like me, with high-stress careers and no time for relationships.”

She smirks now. “Is there a special app where you high-flying executives meet?”

I lean back in my chair, folding my arms. “Manhattan is a small island. It’s not that hard to meet people.”

“Right.”

I tilt my head. “Are you imagining me in some sort of perverse sex club?”

She snorts on her water. “Yes, sorry. It all sounds a bit ritualistic.”

“Not really… Stress-relief sex can be very hot.”

Now her face turns positively purple. I shouldn’t have said that.

Rowena takes a long sip of water and nods. “I bet. So, were you seeing someone when you—when we?—”

“Yes, but I won’t be seeing her anymore.” I wipe my mouth with a fabric napkin I didn’t even know I owned. “And this is another thing I wanted to ask you. Even if this marriage is fake, I need it to be monogamous. Will that be okay for you?”

“You mean…?”

“I would prefer you not to have sex with other men while you’re married to me.”

“Oh, yeah. Sex isn’t in my future.” She chuckles. “In a few months, I’ll turn into a small whale, and I doubt anyone would want to have sex with me.” She plays with her napkin, not having any idea how wrong she is. “Then my vagina will be destroyed and I won’t be able to have sex even if I wanted to, so… What about you? Won’t that be a problem for you?”

“No, my work is my priority.”

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