“Love has nothing to do with a good marriage. Lust has nothing to do with a good marriage.”
“But then where’s the joy in that?” the guy next to me asks. “How can you be happy with a man without these two things?”
I open my mouth.
Close it.
Open it again. “It’s a relationship based on respect and… and good cooking.”
“Good luck with that.” Simone laughs.
What? I glare at her. “My cooking is improving.”
“Very slowly,” she replies.
“You’re learning how to cook?” the guy asks.
I ignore him. “You don’t understand how this works, Simone. My mom explained it all to me many times.”
“Do tell.”
“You catch the right guy’s attention. You cook for him, show off your home. Make him yearn for it. Yearn for you.”
“And then?”
“There’s no then,” I say, irritated. “Then you get married, have children and live happily ever after.”
It sounds so simple when my mother explains it.
So I don’t understand why it’s not working—and why my thoughts are in such a jumble.
***
“So are you going over to him?” Simone asks later.
“You said I stink. Of course I’m not going over to him.” I wipe my face with my towel. It has small pink unicorns with rainbow tails on it.
She gives me a long look. “You okay?”
“Yes, of course.” I pull off the hair tie and let my hair tumble on my shoulders. “I probably need to change strategy, anyway. Move to Phase Three.”
“Phase Three?” She looks scared.
“Yes.”
“Which is?”
“Winning him through his stomach.”
Now she looks downright terrified, no idea why. “Bry, are you out of your ever-loving mind?”
“It’s a tried and true method.”
“For people who can cook, maybe.”
“Don’t be mean.”
“You mean, honest?”