ELEVEN

I always enjoyed my visits to Central Park. I loved the feeling of being in the open air, surrounded by nature, with other people enjoying the same thing I did, so even if I wasn’t talking to them, I felt connected.

It was always calm here, and it was easier to think—or not think—and to plan about what I’d like things to be in a few years. In ten years, I wanted my own business, a comfortable home with a yard, and my healthy mother and Nana Maria grandmothering my kids.

I could sometimes even smell cookies baking in the oven.

Of course, there was going to be a husband there, too.

I just always couldn’t picture him, because I wasn’t sure I could find the ideal man to trust my life with this early.

That was a dream I just couldn’t visualize, even if my life depended on it, which it didn’t. So there was no incentive to try very hard at this at present.

So, it was a testament to say I had never walked here in the park with a man holding my hand before, enjoying the sunshine and the clean air and open field, smiling at the sound of giggles from children playing and running, and not jealous of couples equally snatching quality time with each other a bit away from the buzz of the city.

I was with someone.

And it was exhilarating, my heart skipping every time I turned my head to look at him.

He was handsome, refreshing, magnetic, and just plain exciting.

Exactly like what an ideal man should be, for a husband.

Not a husband.

A lover.

He was never going to be a husband to me.

Except… only when… we pretend.

I looked away.

He was someone I absolutely couldn’t dream about. And no, there was no ‘unfair’ about it, because I was receiving a good price for the bargain—my mother’s chance for longer life.

So I thought about other things. Distracting my mind always worked whenever I had a problem I couldn’t solve at the moment.

But I like that Bain was obviously enjoying himself, too. He was relaxed and happy, and I could try, but there was no ‘distracting’ my attention away from someone like him.

When we lay on the grass with the blanket we bought and the tacos we’d taken out from nearby Calexico, he immediately reached for me and kissed me, slowly and tenderly, taking his time. We didn’t get catcalls this time, but it was because the beating of my heart was deafening to my ears.

How was that for distraction?

I was distracting myself from thinking about possibly falling in love with the guy by enjoying the attention of the guy himself. Okay…

“What does that look mean?” he asked. We were still watching each other, and I hadn’t moved away.

“What look?” I asked.

“You’re looking at me as if I am a problem. You even have a little knot here.” And he gently pointed his forefinger in the spot between my eyebrows, then his thumb cupped my cheek, and he dropped a kiss on my mouth again.

“I was just thinking I’d never figure you could be like this, even if it’s an act, the first night I met you in the bar,” I said, looking down and busying my hands with the pizza and our paper plates. I took one of the slices to put in his bag and took out the cool bottles of soda from the bag.

“Like… sweet and touchy and addicted to PDAs?” he asked, grinning.

“Yeah.”

“Tell me,” he said as he took a knife and started to cut the pizza on my plate into halves, and quarters—

“What are you doing? I like biting into my pizza,” I complained.

“Oh, sorry.” He laughed a little. “I don’t want any bits falling and staining your clothes.”

“It’s okay. I’ll have another slice anyway.” I shrugged and stopped him from taking my plate to replace it with his. “I said it’s okay. But thank you. So, yes. Sweet, and touchy, and

considerate, and addicted to PDAs.” He twisted the cap of my bottle of soda for me. Unbelievable. “Just like how a fiancé… or what I pictured a perfect fiancé would be.”

“I told you,” he replied after giving me a peck on the cheek before settling into his own pizza slice. “When I saw you and observed you, I had this feeling in my gut it would be easy to act the way I’d want to be around a real girlfriend with you. I was totally attracted to you the first time I saw you that night when I was there with my colleagues. And I heard you laugh, and I like the sound of it. I even imagined hearing it with just the two of us. I didn’t mind dreaming about taking you to my hotel and making mindless love with you the whole night, too. I was… studiously smitten.”

I smirked. “Studiously. Who uses that word?”

He grinned at me as he slowly chewed his pizza. Even the way he ate was seriously hot. I should learn to get used to this so it wouldn’t hit me hard every time, as if it was the first time.

“You’re looking at me like that again.”

I looked away and watched another couple talking animatedly while a child who looked like a split-image of the man ran around and around them. They looked wonderful while the sun shone on everything. I would have wanted to take a picture of them. But I didn’t even know them.

“Gia… what’s wrong?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s something I can’t not take care of on my own.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“If it gets to be overwhelming for you, will you promise to tell me and ask for my help?”

I turned to look at him, then, without thinking, reached out with a tissue to wipe sauce from the side of his lips. He turned his head and kissed my hand while I was doing this.

And I froze.

“Promise me,” he insisted like a grown man, and my heart still melted for him.

“I promise,” I replied.

For fuck’s sake. I am falling in love with him.

He put his pizza down. “I’ll hold on to that promise.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “I will, I swear. I know how important it is you—we—both know everything that’s happening between us… at least, that will affect our… performance.”

He frowned. “Is that the problem? It still feels strange for you to be… acting in love?”

I sighed, then gulped in the pizza. “No. It’s the opposite. It’s like, I know I’m not performing. But I also know the real score. And that’s what feels strange, because I should be performing. Do you understand what I mean?”

“I understand exactly,” he replied unhurriedly.

“And that should be a good thing for the plan, right? Is that what you need?”

He nodded.

I nodded, too. That’s what I wanted to hear. This was all a performance that I liked doing because I liked the guy.

And suddenly, that settled it all for me. That was what I wanted to say to myself, admit that I really liked doing this with him. Put it in perspective.

We were like actors on the stage in a theater performance, who loved our jobs and understood the play, and actually liked working with each other.

I was in plays in my junior and senior years in high school.

And I tremendously enjoyed the experience because everyone was talented and good people and I really, really liked being with them, acting with them, and working with them, towards a successful theater season, even if it was just a school theater.

I particularly remember losing myself in my role while totally absorbed in my lines and my performance and my connection to the other actors on stage and to our audience.

I did know that this was how it should be.

That even if I hadn’t been foolishly, blindly, or unthinkingly in love before with a man, I knew where to siphon off my performance.

And romance books and my experience being an actor on stage, were the nearest ones I could get this from.

I was going to get used to this, I promised myself.

What about what happened to us in bed?

Well, it was the nearest I could get to having a relationship with a lover, which I did not truly need at the moment, not with everything I had to prioritize. It helped that I knew the partner wasn’t thinking at all of anything beyond the physical fulfillment we mutually receive from sex.

I would just leave it at that.