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I’m staking my claim, and I want everyone to know it.

Nia turns to me, stare pointed. Apparently, she didn’t want me to mention that. I shrug.

“Have you now?” Guilia asks, then regards Nia. “Where is the ring?”

I pause. Valid question. Perhaps a ring wouldn’t change Nia’s answer, but it would prove I’m serious. After all, the notion of putting a ring on a woman’s finger led me to proposing in the first place.

“I haven’t said yes,” Nia points out.

“Yet,” I add. I may have overlooked something that, in retrospect, seems obvious, but I’m hardly done trying to convince her. “I’m not giving up.”

“Okay, I like this one,” the older woman says. “If I must give up the idea of you reforming Mateo, I can do that if this man loves you.”

Her smile is jovial, but beside me Nia stiffens.

That L-word. Again. Why has everyone attached such illogical and often fleeting emotion to an arrangement that can be both practical and necessary? A home, safety, and financial security in exchange for sexual ease, domestic help, and companionship; the arrangement is enduring and timeless. Of course, Nia supports herself, but I can give her far more. And I’m convinced that she alone can give me everything I need.

“It’s only our second date,” she says into the awkward silence, then winks. “But I’m hopeful.”

The older couple smiles and shows us to our table. We’ve barely opened a bottle of Chianti and enjoyed a few ravioli appetizers that melt in my mouth when Lorenzo delivers us a big, veggie-laden pie.

As much as I believe in clean eating, I have a weakness for pizza. After one bite, I’m hooked.

“This is fantastic. If the pizza is free, maybe you should marry Mateo and keep me on the side,” I joke.

“Ha. You only say that because you can’t cook. And because you haven’t met Mateo.”

Suddenly, something occurs to me. “Did you date him?”

“For about three months.”

I don’t like the way she gets quiet. “And?”

“Like Lorenzo said, he’s a man-whore. The whole time he was dating me, he was sleeping with someone else.”

And her. She doesn’t say so, but it’s implied.

“He hurt you?”

“Not really,” she assures. “He pissed me off. Not caring as much as I should that he was boffing a co-worker was my clue that I needed to end things.”

“How long ago was that?” I want her to tell me it was a long time ago. I want her to tell me it was way before we met.

“Two years ago. Remember when I told you I was spending a lot of time with friends on a houseboat in the bay that summer? I lived with Mateo in July, August, and part of September. So I spent a lot of time with Lorenzo and Guilia.” She shrugs. “Everything ended when my mom got sick and passed away. Mateo wasn’t there for me, but his parents were. I don’t know how I would have made it through that time without them. They’re like family to me.”

I have mixed feelings about that. When she sees them, I’ll bet she sometimes runs into her ex-lover. That hardly thrills me. But I also know how much family and the bonds of closeness matter to her. Since she has none, it’s understandable that she found people she adores to act as her surrogates. It’s endearing, too. But it also proves that Nia is smart since she didn’t marry Mateo simply to have one.

Isn’t that what you did?

I shove the voice in my head aside. It doesn’t understand. Becca and I were different. We were not only survivors and like minds, but well-matched. Kindred spirits, even. We’d been together long enough to know one other and understand what our marriage would be. Becca appreciated our quiet. Maybe we weren’t as passionate as some couples, but she had been through a lot. Besides, there’s more to life than sex.

Though I admit it’s feeling a lot more important now that I’m with Nia.

I scowl at that observation.

“I’m not interested in him anymore, so wipe that frown off your face. I only brought you here tonight because of the amazing pizza.”

As much as some stubborn part of me wants to argue with that, I can’t. “It’s delicious.”