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“How would there be children?” My voice sounded like a butter knife
dragged over cracked asphalt.
“Just in case,” he said with an infuriating shrug.
“In case… what?”
“Things happen.”
His fingers laced together, hitching the jacket cuff enough to reveal the
analog silver watch and brown leather bracelet under it. It made his hands
look as if they were the seat of his competence. The leather strap under the
timepiece hinted at a side to him outside his dreams on top of Crowne
Industries. It insinuated short-term desires that were never fully satisfied.
Rich or poor. Handsome or plain. A reminder that Logan was no more or
less than a man.
Things happen.
Those hands. Between my thighs. Grabbing my ass. In my hair.
“First of all, I haven’t had sex in four years. None of your business why,
but… so you can sleep at night knowing your wife won’t die of syphilis on
your watch, I’ll get tested.”
“Thank you.”
“Secondly, things happen, but they won’t. And if they do…” I clicked
the pen twice as if that was all I needed to convince myself I didn’t want
him. “And my IUD fails which never happens…” I crossed out the
offending line. “Resulting children are Papillions. Not Crownes.”
Dropping the red pen in favor of a black one, I pushed pen and contract
to him.
“Initial the changes before you sign,” I said.
I challenged him with a wielded black pen, and he flicked his blue eyes
from mine to the pen and back again, hesitating long enough to make me
think he was changing his mind.
Worry caught hold of me and wouldn’t let go.
I didn’t want him to change his mind.
My reaction told me more about how much I wanted to do this than any
assessment of the risks or benefits.
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re welcome to find someone else to marry this afternoon.”
He considered, working his jaw like a man trying not to say something.
“That IUD. It works?”