Page 49 of The Plus One Contract

Nobody but me.

I should focus on cooking. Focus on anything other than the suffocating tension squeezing at my ribs.

She gestures to the pile of herbs I’ve barely touched. “Are you going to finish chopping or—?”

I stare at her, waiting.

There it is.

That knowing look.

“It won’t be that bad,” she says, like she has to believe it. “Besides, you’ve moved on. Nathan will be with you. The man I’ve heard absolutely nothing about.”

Right. My fake boyfriend.

I make a noncommittal noise, picking up the knife again.

“I’m sure things will be just as awkward for Daniel,” she adds, like it’s some great comfort.

I doubt it. The man wouldn’t know awkwardness if it slapped him in the face.

I bet Jeremy is loving this.

My brother and Daniel have had this weirdanything you can do, I can do betterdynamic for years. It’s why they were best friends growing up, constantly pushing each other, turning everything into a competition—who could run faster, who could hold their breath longer, who could score higher on their SATs. When I started dating Daniel, that rivalry bled into everything. Jeremy went to law school. So did Daniel. Daniel bought a house. Jeremy bought a bigger one. Daniel got engaged. Jeremy proposed three months later. It’s no coincidence. He must be thriving knowing his wedding is coming first. Meanwhile, I get to sit at the same table as my ex and his fiancée, pretending like I’m fine.

Wonderful.

I pull out my phone, my fingers typing before I can second-guess myself.

Me:Hey, so. Tiny development. Daniel is coming to dinner tonight with his fiancée.

Nathan:Does your family hate you?

I snort.

Me:I'mpretty sure they do.

I put the phone down, ignoring the knot of tension that has formed in my stomach since she told me Daniel will be here with his fiancée, and try to think about something else.

“Mom?” I ask, because now it’s niggling at me. “Do you know what swinging is?”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Of course I do. Your father and I do it every Wednesday night with the Humphreys.”

My mouth pops open so fast I swear I hear my jaw unhinge.

“Our neighbors? Those Humphreys?” I croak, my voice barely functioning.

My mother nods, completely unfazed. “Mmhmm. We only started last year, but they’ve been at it for ages. The old couple they did it with weren’t into it as much anymore. The Humphreys have taught us a lot. You know things between your father and I…”

Please stop talking.

“Well, when you’ve been married for so long. You need something to spice things up.”

I lurch forward, bracing myself against the counter because I’m genuinely about to be sick. I can’t breathe. I need air. Or alcohol. Or an emergency brain wipe.

Before I can get a word out, she casually calls, “Tim?”

Oh my God.

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