The Intimacy Experiment (The Roommate #2) - Rosie Danan Page 0,98

with age, with self-interest. That people grew apart or revealed all the rotten parts of themselves they’d hidden from you.

And now, Ethan wasn’t saying always. He wasn’t saying anything beyond that he liked what they had. But this time, the lack of always struck her as sure as any arrow. As sharp and deadly as Joce’s inscription. Because—well, before, he’d wanted—hadn’t he said he wanted—? Back before, when she hadn’t known yet what she could handle?

Didn’t he realize that now she wanted his plans? Couldn’t he see, as he ate his eggs across from her at her shitty IKEA kitchen table, that they needed more highway? To keep driving?

Couldn’t he tell that now that they’d started, she didn’t know how to stop?

Chapter Thirty-One

ETHAN DEFINITELY WANTED a future with Naomi. He wanted vacations, and anniversaries, and mail with both of their names on it. He was even looking forward to their first big fight. Okay, not the fight itself so much as the possibility of makeup sex.

And sure, he was a bit tortured over wanting those things, knowing that she could pick a thousand people less high maintenance than him to share them with. But he’d started trying to make peace with it. Because hiding how he felt from her—not telling her this morning that ideally he wanted to fill multiple scrapbooks with memories spanning the rest of their lives together—had given him a stomachache. Seriously, it was four p.m. and he was sitting at his desk eating saltines.

He should just tell her he was all in. There was no use trying to fight it. He knew he couldn’t make decisions for her, even ones that might, in theory, make her life less stressful. And anyway, she’d never do something unless it was exactly what she wanted, what she believed to be right. She didn’t get scared, not in the way that he did, of asking too much of other people. She knew exactly how much she deserved.

He reached for his cell, but then thought better of it and reached for his Dodgers mug instead. This wasn’t the kind of thing you sent via text, he decided, taking a sip of lukewarm tea. He’d tell her after the seminar tonight.

Which—he glanced at his watch—he needed to leave for soon if he didn’t want to get absolutely annihilated by traffic. He wanted to get there early, with plenty of time to check in with the new security guard, to run through all the updated safety procedures with her and Naomi. Having a trained professional guard the door to their auditorium wasn’t ideal, but it was responsible and necessary.

Ethan wanted to protect their vision—this modern intimacy course that gave people an open forum to talk about the evolution of relationships. But as much as he wanted to preserve the cozy, unconventional sense of community they’d developed, he also wanted everyone to feel safe.

He crunched on another saltine, the cracker drying his mouth out like the desert. Yeesh. Under a pile of paperwork, his phone vibrated.

A text from Jonathan: Emergency board meeting. Need you in my office ASAP

Ethan sighed and sent back the hand making an “okay” sign emoji. Emergency board meetings were not that irregular at Beth Elohim. They had a run-down synagogue on the brink of closing. They’d had an emergency meeting last week when the pipes in the basement had burst, for example.

Ethan stopped to grab some water on his way to the meeting room, shooting Naomi a message to say he might be a little late to the JCC but that Julia (the guard) should know to ask for her at the front desk.

She sent back: sounds good. see ya soon. thinking about your

He grinned down at his phone and thought about her lying tangled in her sheets this morning. When he’d gotten up to say his prayers, she’d sighed like it was fabulous that he was leaving and stretched out like a starfish. But then just when he’d gotten to the door, she had whimpered a little, eyes closed, until he’d come back and kissed her for a minute. After that she’d smiled, cat-with-the-cream, eyes still closed, and gone back to sleep.

Jonathan’s office smelled musty, like the old radiator in the corner had been working overtime, even though it was spring in L.A. and the thing definitely hadn’t been turned on in the last five years. Ethan thought about moving to open a window, but figured he should wait until things got going and it was less conspicuous. There