“What are you doing?”
He looks up at me, brow lifted. “Taking notes.”
“On?”
“What you like.”
“Oh…”
It’s not often I’m at a loss for words, but around this man, my brain is jelly.
I pull out the agenda I have stowed in my bag and open it to the page needed to conduct our meeting.
“Okay, let’s get this over with.” I look up from the sheet with a stoic expression.
He leans forward over the table to get a look. “What’s that?”
“You have your notes, I have mine, except mine are a preliminary outline for how we’re going to do this…thing.”
He nods. “Good idea. We should probably come up with a conception story.”
“A…conception story?”
“For the droid.”
“Droid?”
“The baby. We don’t know what it is yet, so until we do, I’m calling it little droid.”
“Ah-huh…”
“I don’t want our droid knowing I railed his mom,” he pauses, “my apologies, I had sex with his mom,” he looks down and exhales, “I made love to his mom in a bathroom.”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” I ask, not sure if he’s actually serious or trying to be funny.
“We don’t have to make up a Disney story or anything. Just something we can say proudly.”
Holy shit, he’s not joking.
“Why do we even need to go into detail at all?”
“I want little droid to feel good about the way they were created. To know that they’re loved and that we love each other.”
My jaw drops at the mention of the ‘L’ word.
“Have you picked out a doctor yet? I’d like to make it to as many appointments as I can.”
“You won’t get any money from me,” I blurt when I finally realize what he must be after.
His face twists in offense. “Money?”
“I’m sure you’ve looked me up and have a good idea of what I’m worth.”
He pulls out his phone, toggles the screen, then hands it to me, showing me his bank balance.
I gasp when I see it’s more than most households make in a year. “Did you make all that dancing?”
“Dancing and poker playing.”
