“I don’t think I understand. Cy said he found you. Did you have any say?”

“I filled out a profile and set my hard limits.”

“Your hard limits?” I asked, the phrase prickling my skin.

“Yes. As the name insinuates, not all of the clients are single. I wasn’t willing to be a third wheel or the reason a marriage or relationship failed. That was one of my hard limits.”

“One?”

Patrick pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. “I restricted my profile to gay men. If you don’t think I could get it up for some hot, wealthy woman, well, you’re wrong, but if I did that, it would compromise who I am. Hard limits are important. Once those are set, Infidelity does its magic. The staff knows their clients. A profile isn’t available to the entire world. First, only an exclusive number of people even know that this part of Infidelity exists.”

We were sitting back where we started. “So Infidelity pairs clients with…”

“Employees,” Patrick answered. “I work for Infidelity. I get a monthly check from them. When Cy joined, he agreed to provide housing and living expenses. Theoretically, my check from Infidelity covers my incidentals. Since I also work for the design firm, I have that check too, and…” He smiled with a shrug. “…Cy is very generous. My checks are mostly invested. Infidelity works on yearly agreements. During that anniversary month, Infidelity provides extensive interviews to determine if the agreement is renewed. There is even a buy-out clause if two people decide they want to stay together, without the company.”

“What if you two hadn’t gotten along? Could you quit?”

“At the end of one year.”

I shook my head. “One year.”

“The people at Infidelity can explain it better than I, but the year thing is there for a reason. The client is putting a lot of resources into this relationship. They don’t want to do that to have it end in a week.”

I took a deep breath. A week is too short.

“There’s something psychologically reassuring about a year,” Patrick explained. “Every day doesn’t have to be wine and roses. I told you that what I have with Cy is real. We fight. We make up. Make-up sex is awesome!”

I couldn’t believe I was smiling at him and really listening.

“Pat, what? How? How did you even learn about this?”

He shrugged. “I can’t give specifics. Like for example, if you decide to look into this, you can’t tell anyone it was me and Cy, other than Karen, the intake representative at Infidelity. I can tell you I learned about it while I was at Pratt. I didn’t do it, not at first. Then, while I was working on my master’s, I had offers for different internships and decided to take the one here. As I was cooking macaroni and cheese on my tiny stovetop, I made the decision to call the person I’d met while attending Pratt.

“It wasn’t an easy decision. During the intake interview, Infidelity was extremely transparent. Although they put a lot of money and resources into this, not all matches work as well as ours. The thing that sold me was the exclusivity. Infidelity pairs its employees once. They don’t serve as a pimp. If at the end of an agreement there’s a mutual decision to end the relationship, the employee receives a severance package and he or she is done. Clients are given two chances.

“The network is small,” he went on. “Confidentiality is paramount. To the world we are a couple. Cy has an important job. I’m his partner. He’s met Mom and Dad. I’ve met his family. No one,” he emphasized, “knows how we actually met.”

I considered all he said. “You said some of the clients are married.”

“Yes.”

“Do they provide the same… housing and living expenses?”

“Yes.”

I scrunched my nose. “Why?

“Why would an employee want to be paired with a married client?” Patrick asked, clarifying my one-word question.

“Yes? Why?”

“Commitments. The job still pays the same, but since this client is splitting his or her time with the employee and the spouse, well, the employee’s services aren’t required as frequently. Like, say the employee has another commitment… law school, perhaps.”

I shook my head. “I-I can’t believe I’m even considering this, but married men? That’s my hard limit. What if Cy would’ve said no to the design firm?”

“It was in my profile. He knew I had a commitment to the firm. He came into this relationship understanding my priorities. Though I didn’t know him, I agreed to enter being willing to support his.”

“When is your one-year… anniversary… contract renegotiation?”

Patrick grinned. “It was last June. We’re in our second year.”

“You don’t regret it?”

“Little cousin, do I look like I regret it?”

I tried to take it all in, but the more I thought about it, the more questions I had. As in most of my times of indecision, since Del Mar, my thoughts went briefly to Nox. “Pat, what if you met someone else?”

“I’m not looking.”

“No, of course you’re not looking, but what if?”

“He’d have to wait until next June. Monogamy is in the agreement. It was also on my list of hard limits.”

A ridiculous thought occurred to me. “So if I agreed to this, I couldn’t commit to Bryce until my contract was up.”

“They call them agreements, not contracts.” He shrugged. “It’s a legal thing, and yes, but you couldn’t tell Bryce, Aunt Adelaide, or Uncle Alton about the agreement. No one can know.”

Patrick reached for my hand. “Little cousin, I know this is a lot to consider. Like I said, it took me almost two years before I decided to do it.

“Cy said he could get you an interview tomorrow. That doesn’t mean you’ll be accepted. Infidelity has a rigorous intake process. They wouldn’t be as successful as they are and as exclusive, if everyone was granted employment.” He tilted his head. “And they wouldn’t be able to pay as well as they do.”

“Can you tell me how much?” I asked, curious despite the fact that I was disgusted with myself that I was giving this company any consideration.

“No, but I can tell you that they’ll pay you for the interview, for your time.”

“If I go to the interview tomorrow, I’ll be paid? No sex… just an interview?”

“Sex is down the line in this process,” Patrick said. “They’ll explain it better. Infidelity doesn’t sell sex. They foster companionships. And yes.”

“How much?”

“Five thousand dollars.”

IT’S JUST AN interview.

I’d said it over and over to myself as well as to Patrick. He’d taken a second day off work to help me with this, and I didn’t know if I was thankful that I had his hand to hold or if I should hate him forever for even suggesting this. More than once during the night I woke with near panic-attack-level doubts.

I was a Montague and I was entertaining the idea of selling myself, my companionship, as Patrick continued to remind me. But then, I’d think about my mother and Alton. Was what they wanted me to do any less degrading? They wanted me to forfeit my dreams and sell myself to Bryce, and for what? For the Montague name. In their deal, I lost everything. I lost my dreams and the future I’d planned. I lost my ability to choose my own husband. Their scenario was a lifelong sentence. In their plan, I wasn’t only securing my own future unhappiness, but more than likely that of my children, future Montagues and Carmichaels.

With Infidelity, if—and that was a big if—I was accepted by the company and I agreed, I could continue law school. If I did this and became an Infidelity employee, I would agree to one year. After that time I was free. There was no lifelong sentence and no children.

That was part of my ongoing inner monologue as Patrick chatted away with Andrew, my first appointment of the day. Andrew was a stylist extraordinaire, apparently very high-priced, and sought-after. New clients rarely made it to Andrew’s chair for hair and makeup, but with one call from Patrick, I was there at ten-thirty in the morning.