When Robert sits at the table with me, he smiles, and I smile back, and it’s comfortable and exciting at the same time. The lasagna is gooey, with layers of mushrooms and smoked sausage.

“So,” I say softly, “I heard this rumor that you like me.”

“Do you think it’s true?” he asks. I like the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles.

“Yeah,” I say. I kick at his boot under the table. He grabs my ankle with both his legs. We eat dinner with our feet entwined.

We eat until our plates are clean, soaking up sauce with big chunks of rosemary bread Robert made from scratch. I don’t drink my wine. It stays on the table, mocking me. Ethan doesn’t drink anymore either. We can’t.

“Is the wine too dry?” Robert asks when he pours himself a second glass.

“No,” I say, “it’s perfect. I just—I was nursing a headache today.”

“You know what the best cure for a headache is?”

I expect him to say sex, because I’ve heard that line before. Too many times. I feel disappointed about it, that he’s actually the kind of guy to use a line like that. But then he says, “This,” and stands behind me. He rubs my shoulders with his strong, strong hands, which, of course, leads to sex, on the kitchen floor, on the stairs, in his bed, but nothing about it is disappointing in the least.

I sleep at Robert’s house. All night. I don’t leave before he wakes up. Sex is one thing—just putting parts together. It’s another thing entirely to exist together. Robert is someone I want to exist with.

— Chapter 52 —

Ethan is so excited about the dance that he’s been in his top hat and tails since before I even got home from waiting tables.

He helps me get ready. We twist small sections of my hair and pin them as flat as we can against my scalp.

“You know,” Ethan says when we finally get the wig on my head, “I like you as a blond.”

“Personally,” I tell him, “I think you should wear a top hat all the time.”

I get the makeup perfect, copying a picture Ethan found for me: big red lips, eyeliner only on the top lash line.

When I go to my room to put my dress on, the zipper won’t pull up. It was fine before, but now, once I get it past my hips it starts to stick.

“Almost ready?” Ethan calls from the hallway.