Tom is in the pool. I sit on the side. I half-watch as he swims several laps and half-study the agreement. If I’d known it was this fascinating, I wouldn’t have put it off so long. I’m glad I did.

No doubt, if I’d read it, I wouldn’t be sitting here now. I would have found an easier route to get what I want. Sometimes you can’t see where the path will take you, and sometimes you realize it’s where you want to go, but that you wouldn’t have started out in that direction, if only you’d known what was ahead.

Tom takes a break and swims over to where I am. I can feel his eyes on everything as he examines my body. Thankfully, I’ve already ordered a drink. When it arrives, he gives me a look that conveys his disappointment.

“What?” I shrug. “We’re on our honeymoon.”

He doesn’t offer a response. He’s too busy running his hands along my thighs. “Have you ever thought about getting lipo?”

“Only every other day.”

He splashes some water on my legs and watches as it drips off. “We should schedule that when we get back.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I say, and then Tom kicks off on the side of the pool. He backstrokes his way to the other side. I hold the agreement where he’ll see it when he looks my way. Eventually, he swims over.

“I have some questions for you…”

My husband raises his brow, and then he glances around to see who might be listening. It’s late afternoon, and the pool area is starting to fill up. I follow his gaze. So many people in this town, I’ve noticed. With a little lipo, I tell Tom, I could probably live here.

“So you like it here then?”

“I do.” It isn’t a lie. You can smell the money coming off the patrons. Perpetual vacationers. I guess one never really ventures that far from what one knows.

“How much money does the church make anyway?”

He puts on his surprised look. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” I say. I lick the sugar on the rim of my daiquiri. “I’d like to learn more about our finances.”

Tom doesn’t respond for several moments. He’s stretching, and I can see he really has been working out. Finally, he says, “I’m not here to talk shop.”

“Fine.” I stuff the agreement in my bag. “What do you take home?”

“Enough.” Tom likes his double entendres.

I silently seethe as he props himself on his elbows. He rests against the side of the pool. After several minutes, he glances over his shoulder and gives me the once-over. I take this as a sign to continue the conversation. “Well, as your wife, I’d like to know.” He stares at my bottom lip as I chew on it. “It just seems like for the amount of work you do, they should give you a bigger piece of the pie, is all.”

“Like I said, I do well.”

“If you insist on being vague…whatever. But I think I could help.”

He looks at me for a moment. I can see he’s pondering his next move. We both know he wants to go deeper.

“If you want to talk numbers…I can tell you about your new clothing allowance.”

“My allowance,” I laugh, choking on my own spit. “You make it sound like I’m a child.”

His silence hangs in the air for a bit too long.

“It’s a business expense, the clothes,” he tells me, finally. “There’s money for other stuff too. The church wants you to take a more active role. Obviously, you really proved yourself at the center.”

“How much?” I have to ask.

“Plenty.”

“What do they want me to do?”

“That much I don’t know.” He shakes his head, and then gazes off into the distance. “Not for certain.”

“Well, what do you know?”

“I know they’re setting up social media accounts for you.”

“I don’t do social media.”

“You do now.”

“So basically what they want is a replacement for Josie?”

He furrows his brow. “Josie?”

For someone so smart, sometimes he can be really dumb. “Yeah, that was her job. Remember how she was always posting on Instalook?”

“Not particularly.”

“Well, I do. I watched her. She couldn’t put that damned phone down. Checking, always checking.”

“I never paid attention.”

“Have you ever thought about leaving the church?”

“No,” he tells me, meeting my eyes. “Why do you ask?”

I sip my drink and say, “I’m just not sure I understand the appeal.” This, of course, is a lie. Free clothes. A nice lifestyle. A community of like-minded people. It’s all about image. Everything is. I get it. I do. People want to see themselves a certain way, every bit as much as they want others to see them that way. Offer them the chance, shine a mirror on what they think it is they see, and they’ll be putty in your hands. Ripe for the picking, or however the saying goes.

“The church owns me, Melanie.”

I didn’t expect him to say that. I feel like we’ve gotten to the point of oversharing.

“Own you? How?”

“Never mind,” he says kicking back. “You said you had a question about the agreement?”

“You know what?” I down the last of my drink. “I’ve forgotten.”

He doesn’t believe me. “Must be the alcohol. It feels like forever since I’ve had a drink...”

“Twelve weeks tomorrow,” he says.

I raise my brow. I’m impressed. “Yeah, something like that.”

At dinner I get drunk. Like properly drunk. I don’t know how, but I have to make myself fall in love with this man. The writing is on the wall. We could be good together. We could stage a coup. We could have it all. I don’t recall what I ate. My appetite is diminished by my memories of ice baths and liquid diets, only now I’ve exchanged smoothies for rum. I could probably make it a combo deal if it came down to it. Mrs. Elizabeth would be proud. I guess I’m coming around to the idea of drinking my calories. This explains why the evening is kind of hazy.

But I do intend to remember what happens when we go back to our room. I have a plan. Clearly.

“Let’s fuck,” I tell Tom, stripping out of my clothes. Sometimes sex can lead to love.

“We can’t.”

“Sure we can.” I can hear my own slur. I need to slow down. We need to speed up. “It’ll be fine,” I assure him.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Tom is a liar.

He walks over to me and takes the glass from my hand. “I don’t like to see you like this.”

“What? Happy?”

My eyes meet his as he takes my chin in his hand. I don’t have a choice. He forces me to look at him. “Do I make you unhappy, Melanie?”

I shake my head slightly. It’s as far as Tom’s grip will allow. “I make myself unhappy,” I say. “I am not a nice person.” It’s one of the only truthful things I’ve ever really told him.

“How so?”

“I destroy everything in my wake.”

Tom offers a tight smile. I am too drunk to realize it’s not an appropriate response. “You won’t destroy me.”

“I might try.” This is the first time I come to understand that alcohol and Tom Anderson don’t mix well. There’s chemistry here. Maybe not love. But the chemistry is unmistakable. Without it, this would not have been a successful seduction to begin with.

He leans in and plants a quick peck on my lips. “Melanie,” he says as he pulls away and meets my eye. His expression is serious. More serious than I’ve ever seen. “Don’t take me to the deep end, if you know you can’t swim.”

When my husband exits the bathroom, he’s still in the process of toweling off. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he says, but in a way that it seems as though he’s just thought of it.

The room is spinning. I can’t recall the last time I was this drunk.

“Can you tell me a little about your previous lovers?”

“Why would you ask that?” My hand reaches for the wall. I have to steady myself otherwise I am going to be sick.

“You really shouldn’t drink,” he says. “Look what it does to you.”

I feel the weight of him as he sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Tell me what they liked.”

My eyes meet his.

I stare at him curiously. “You want to know what they were into?”

“I want to know everything about you.”

My breath catches.

Tom leans in and touches my face with the back of his hand. “I think we should do a little role playing.”

“You’re fucked in the head,” I say. “Seriously sick.”

His face is unreadable. “You have no idea.”

“Who raised you?”

“My aunt.”

“Really?” I realize I know nothing about this man or his past. Not really.

“But none of that is the issue.”

My head tilts. “What is the issue?”

“I want to know what they were like. The men in your past…”

“Why?”

“Because I want to be the best lover you’ve ever had. Which requires a little research on my part. Most things can be explained by digging at the past, right?”

I pull at the towel he has around his waist. Suddenly, I’ve got a second wind. “I think I just fell in love with you.”

“Hot and cold? You wanna play?”

I don’t answer. I’m headed south. It’s possible I might puke all over him. But who cares? I’ve just realized I’ve met my match. Someone who gets me. I feel something. And that something is pleasantly surprised. In this moment, this is all that matters.

Tom pulls my hair, forcing me to look at him. “Well—are you going to make me guess what they were into? Or would you just spell it out? Personally, I prefer the latter.”

Little does he know, that’s not nearly as much fun, which is why I roll my eyes. I get back to business, pushing against his grip. Tom seems like the kind of guy who likes a little resistance. “Can’t you see?” I smile up at him ruefully. “I’m working on it.”