The Relationship Contract by Marcella Steele

“How long will you be in London?” Elaine asked.

“A few weeks, I’m not sure yet.” Me—the ultimate planner—winging it? “It’s sort of open-ended. I think I’ll be in Europe for two months, traveling to various places.” I hesitated, because how could I explain I was choosing to spend my severance package on this trip to Europe instead of job hunting—that I was hurling myself into a new life, a new relationship, without a clue about the direction this would lead?

She tilted her head with curiosity. “Business or pleasure?”

I barked out a laugh. “Definitely pleasure. I’m joining my boyfriend.” The word still felt foreign on my tongue. After years spent in romantic exile, being part of a couple seemed surreal. “Ryan works in London part-time—his main office is in San Francisco, where we met. So, I’m basically following him across an ocean.” I shook my head. This was coming out all wrong. “Not that I’m desperate or anything. I mean, I lost my job, but the timing worked out perfectly because Ryan suggested I come live with him. Well, travel together, since he moves around constantly. We’re returning to Barcelona at some point because that city holds special meaning for us—” I cut myself off, cheeks burning. Apparently, my anxiety had me spiraling out of control, transforming me from an articulate professional into a babbling teenager who just discovered her first crush.

Her eyebrows shot up while her forehead remained suspiciously smooth. “Ryan? That wouldn’t be Ryan Hunter, would it?” Her voice climbed several octaves.

“Yes… do you know him?” Something cold twisted in my stomach.

“Know him? Um. Not personally, but he’s one of our frequent flyers.” The way she scrutinized me made every hair on my neck stand at attention. “He’s your boyfriend?”

I nodded, shrinking into my luxurious seat like a deflating balloon.

This time her smile looked painted on, her tone as artificially sweet as high-fructose corn syrup. “If you need anything else, just let me know.” Watching her slim figure trail through the aisle of the cabin, I wondered if I was projecting or if the twist in my gut was justified. Anyone who knew Ryan might take one look at me and wonder, Really? Him… and her? I had questioned that myself when we first met. Despite his unwavering attention, I wasn’t sure if I would ever get past the age difference when someone like Elaine was sizing me up.

When Ryan and I were alone, it was just too good to waste time worrying about how the world viewed me. In his eyes, I was perfect. He didn’t notice the saggy bits or dimpled skin. According to my best friend, Madison, I had a figure most women would kill for and could pass for a forty-year-old on a good day. Most days were not that good, but I’d made peace with the crows feet and that little belly pooch that refused to disappear. After all, at one time it was a baby bump, then a beach ball. I’d earned that lump.

Still, a thought niggled its way into my brain. There was something suspicious about Elaine’s reaction to me. Call it women’s intuition, but somehow, I just knew. Had she hoped to snag him for herself? I couldn’t blame her; Ryan was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome. His image should appear on a Pinterest board titled: Hot Guys with Dark Curly Hair and Piercing Blue Eyes. How many flight attendants and restaurant hostesses had set their sights on him?