The True Love Experiment

I stare after Connor and Stevie as they climb into the car, wondering if terse silence is going to be our new vibe from here on out. I have to admit, I don’t love it. Turning, I close and lock the door before facing the mess of our girls’ night shenanigans. I’m aware that a pair of eyes tracks me across the room when I go to fold up the blankets. Most kids are barely aware of how many grown-ups are in a room, let alone what interpersonal sparks are flying. But Juno Merriam is an incredibly perceptive child, and there is no way I’m getting out of this night without some interrogation.

“Mom said she’d let me watch your TV show when it was done,” she says, squinting down at a colorful eraser in her hand as if it requires careful consideration.

Here we go.

“Oh yeah?” I tilt my head for her to follow me into the kitchen. “It’s pretty tame. Stevie’s watching it. Why’s she making you wait?”

She jogs after me and grabs a cookie before I can put the box away in the cupboard. “She wants to see how it all turns out first.”

“Her and me both, kiddo.”

Juno takes a bite and chews, biding her time like a velociraptor. “So, whoever wins this weekend will be your boyfriend?”

“Only if he and I decide we want that.” I pull out a chair at the small kitchen table and practically crumple down. I am suddenly pass-out exhausted.

She sits down across from me and draws spirals on the tabletop with her fingertip. “Do you like the boys that are left?”

“I do…” My voice trails off, and the Just not in that way follows in a droopy echo.

Juno nods for a few long seconds. “What’re their names?”

“Evan and Isaac.”

“Do you like one of them more than the other?”

Her very normal question makes me sad again. “Isaac, I guess.”

“What’s he like?”

“Nice,” I say, and look up to the ceiling, thinking. “Attractive.” God, pull it together, Felicity. Isaac is an amazing man and you’re describing him the way you would a new couch. I look at Juno and take a deep breath, trying to infuse some enthusiasm into my words. “He’s a scientist, just like your dad.”

“He’s a geneticist, too?” she asks, squinting skeptically.

She’s smarter than I am. “No, I think he makes robots or makes sure robots don’t take over the world or something related to the reason I’m nice to my Alexa.”

Juno laughs. “That’s not the same thing as genetics, Auntie Fizzy.”

I throw a wadded-up napkin at her. She ducks out of the way and the flash of her laughter propels her question out, so sneakily: “Do you think Mr. Prince wants Isaac to win?”

I hold on to my smile, leaning closer. Juno is a worthy sparring partner. Pride and unease battle it out in my pulse. “I don’t think Mr. Prince cares who wins as long as the show is successful.”

“I think he cares who wins.” She goes for broke: “I think he likes you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. Like at the concert? I could tell he liked you. He stared at you the whole time.”

“That’s because I’m fascinating, Juno. Keep up.”

She giggles. “I bet he doesn’t like seeing other boys on dates with you.”

I hum, studying her. She doesn’t flinch or shrink at all. “And—okay, you know Aiden R.?” she continues. I nod, because there are, like, four Aidens in her class. “He likes Stevie, and they always sit together at lunch, but today Stevie was assigned to Indonesia for World Cultures Day with Eric, and Aiden was quiet-sad the same way Mr. Prince was tonight.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that?”

She points to her face. “You know how boys clench their jaw like this?” She does a pretty solid impression. “He was doing that and just, like, ignoring her at lunch. But it wasn’t like Stevie had a choice about who she does World Cultures Day with. It’s assigned.”

“Right,” I agree sympathetically. Ugh, this metaphor is pretty great. I redirect: “Who did you get assigned to work with?”

“Kyle Pyun,” she says, and gives a vague grimace. “He’s really hyper but at least he gets good grades.”

“Totally.” I lean in, grinning. “Is he cute?”

Juno looks genuinely disgusted. “Auntie Fizzy, we’re in fifth grade.”

“I’m not asking if you’re engaged, Junebug, just whether he’s got potential.”

“Mom says boys are dumb until high school.”

“Wow, that’s generous.”

“So if Isaac wins,” Juno says, doing her own redirection, “does he get money or something?”

“In theory he gets me.”

She laughs like this is funny. “Yeah but… you know. Like a real prize.”

Pressing my lips together, I give her a flat “I get to choose who I’m taking to Fiji, and there’s a cash prize for the Hero who wins the most votes, if that’s what you mean.”

Her eyes are planets. “A trip together?” I nod. “Sleeping in the same room?”

“We can have separate rooms if we want.”

Juno’s lip curls a little. “Would you want to share a room with him?”

“I’m not averse to sharing a room, but I’m not sure I want to share it with him yet. It will be our decision once we get there.”

She nods, looking to the side, thinking. I look down at my phone. It’s almost nine. Time for River to come get her and save me from this laser interrogation.

“What if Lucas Ayad was one of the contestants?” she asks.

I playfully scowl at the mention of my favorite Wonderland member. “I mean obviously if Lucas was a contestant and he didn’t win fairly, I’d invent a time machine to go back and rig the results.”

“We should start a petition to write him in,” she says. “Tell everyone to start tagging Lucas Ayad in the votes.”

“You just want that so I don’t marry Suchin and steal him from you.”

Juno beams. “Suchin belongs to me, he just doesn’t know it yet.”

This kid cracks me up. “How can you talk about Suchin like this but can’t even tell me whether World Cultures Day Kyle is cute?”

“Because I actually know Kyle—gross.” She leans in now, too. “But what if we vote for Mr. Prince?”

I knew her checkmate was coming, but it still catches me unaware.

“I knew you were up to something, you little shi—” I pull back just in time, correcting to “Silly child,” but it doesn’t matter. Juno giggles knowingly, all puppies and rainbows in the delighted sound, holding out her hand.

“One dollar, please.”

I lean back in my chair, opening the junk drawer and digging for some change. Dropping four quarters into her palm, I say, “I’d rather talk about Lucas and Suchin.”

“Because you like Mr. Prince, too?”

“Juno Merriam, mind your business.”

“Some of the girls in my class and their moms like Mr. Prince.”

Get in line, ladies.

I hum in acknowledgment and make a mental note to tease him about it, then remember he probably doesn’t want me to tell him anything. And now I’m sad again.

“My dad says if you want something, it doesn’t matter how scared you are, you have to try.”

I stare at her, wondering for the one hundredth time where this child came from. “Your dad said that, eh?”

Juno nods. “He said my mom scared him at first. But then he was more scared of not seeing her again.” She smiles at me. “So, if that’s how you feel about Mr. Prince or… what was his name?”

I stare at her. Juno doesn’t forget anything. This sneaky faker is too smart for her own good. “Isaac?”

“Right,” she says slyly. She’s becoming more like her mother every day. “If that’s how you feel about Isaac, then don’t let being scared get in the way.”

Three sharp knocks land on the front door, not a moment too soon. With one more wry grin at Juno, I push back and stand, walking to the living room.

“You couldn’t have arrived three minutes earlier and saved me the Spanish Inquisition?” I ask.

River laughs out a breath. “Oh boy. Better you than me.”

“You know once they start outsmarting me, I charge forty-five dollars an hour to babysit.”

With her backpack slung onto her shoulder, Juno joins her dad at the door. “Thanks for dinner, Auntie Fizzy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you, get out of here.”

She giggles, leaning into my embrace, and I watch them turn to leave.

But River stops at the edge of the porch. “Hey,” he says, uncharacteristically unsure. “I wanted to ask something.”

“This sounds ominous.” It becomes more so when he bends to Juno, murmuring for her to go wait for him at the curb.

“Is everything with the show okay? With Connor,” he clarifies.

“What do you mean?”

“With that other North Star show going up in flames last weekend for the doping scandal, and the producer being fired and—”

“Sorry, wait. What other show?”

He frowns. “I don’t watch it, but apparently they have another show that’s got all kinds of physical challenges in arenas.”

I have a vague memory of Connor mentioning another program they were doing to bring in a younger, male demographic. “Oh, right. Big Mouth or Smash Face or something.”

“Smash Course,” he says. “I guess the producers were giving a lead contestant performance-enhancing drugs. One of the producers was apparently sleeping with him on the road, too, and it blew up online.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. The show is being canceled.” River reaches up to scratch his neck, adorably uncomfortable putting his nose in anyone else’s business. “With everything that happened between you and Connor, I just wanted to make sure he was okay.”

It’s like a fog has cleared as everything since my confession on Connor’s couch suddenly comes into crystalline focus. If North Star has lost one of its two cash cows due to scandal, they’d definitely turn the pressure up on Connor to make sure he’s running a tight ship. If word got out that we’d been together, basically making the show a sham, it wouldn’t just end his career, it could take down the entire company.

And Connor would be blamed for it all.