The Intimacy Experiment (The Roommate #2) - Rosie Danan Page 0,67

sleek black bob behind her ear. Was that sympathy in the look she shot Ethan, or something else?

Alice bumped her shoulder gently against her wife’s. “How do you two know each other?”

“We used to date,” Joce and Naomi said at the exact same time.

Ethan laughed, but Alice’s brows drew together.

“You’re not . . . wait . . . are you Hannah?” Something heavy pulled Alice’s face taut.

Any traces of mirth soured in Naomi’s mouth.

“Umm, yeah. Or I guess I was, back when . . . back then.”

The waiter fidgeted with his pad.

“We should get going,” Jocelyn said after a long, awkward pause. She reached for Naomi’s wrist for a second, pulled her in just enough to whisper, “You look happy. I’m glad,” before walking away.

After they left, Ethan didn’t demand an immediate explanation for what had admittedly been a very odd encounter, but Naomi couldn’t suffocate the urge to explain.

“I treated Joce like shit. That’s why that was so weird.” She ran her thumb through the condensation on her water glass for something to do. The truth had escaped before she’d thought to bury it. “We met shortly after I moved out here from Boston. She owns a flower shop a couple doors down from the place where I used to waitress. I’d give her free drinks, and Jocelyn would bring me all the errant blooms that wouldn’t fit into her arrangements.” Naomi still couldn’t smell hyacinth without thinking of Joce’s smile. “We dated for two years, and it was great. No big problems. Just . . . nice.”

A frown painted Ethan’s dark brow. “But something went wrong?”

Naomi nodded, needing the extra seconds to find the words. “She bought me a ring. It was gorgeous.” Silver, not gold.

Ethan sat back in his chair, the firm set of his lips taking on a new air of gravity. “The idea of marriage scared you?”

“Not exactly.” She’d loved Jocelyn and seen a future with her. It had been the inscription on the ring, of all things. Yesterday. Today. Always.

The last word, tiny and precise, had scoured Naomi’s skin, echoing another promise from years earlier. One that still sent her bolting up in bed in the middle of the night sometimes, heart racing. Come on, baby, just a few pictures. You can trust me. You know I love you. I’ll always love you.

Fuck. She still hadn’t responded to that email invitation from her high school. Mostly because she hadn’t decided how to best articulate her disdain, but also because she couldn’t shake the hypocritical feeling of rejecting the exact kind of opportunity—one to change the conversation about sex ed and intimacy—she consistently fought to receive.

The waiter came and poured the red wine they’d ordered. Naomi took a big swallow, half the glass, before she continued.

“I have this thing where, when people promise too much, when something seems too good to be true . . . I don’t like to wait around and see it break down.”

She’d learned early the cruel fact of life that you could lose everything more than once.

“It’s easier, at least it seemed easier then,” Naomi said, “to cut and run.”

“So you said no?” Ethan took a sip of his own wine instead of cutting his losses and whistling for the check. Naomi experienced an extra surge of warmth toward him for acting like this date was normal in spite of everything.

She wished she could write her cowardice off, attribute it to being young and stupid, but Naomi knew it was no excuse. “I didn’t say no so much as I ran out of her house and never answered her calls again.”

Joce had obviously moved on, married someone else, but Naomi knew more than anyone that good things happening for you didn’t make the bad things fade any faster. Time might heal all wounds, but in Naomi’s experience, never as fast as she needed.

“So, this is the first time you’ve seen each other since . . . Wow.” Ethan’s eyes had gone wide, the blue sharp and brighter than usual. “But . . . if everything else was good, if you’d worked through things before, why not work through that?”

The urge to change the subject pushed against her lips, but what had she told her students?

Sometimes first dates went deep, whether or not you felt ready. Did her and Ethan’s rapid foray into old wounds tonight speak to compatibility or false intimacy, sure to crumble at the first sign of real strain?

“I would make a terrible wife,” she said, voice matter-of-fact,