“Yeah, it’s quiet, and I love being close to the sea.” Oh, how polite we are. You’d never guess we’re about to discuss our whole future.
We walk along the road, then cut down the side road and emerge onto the beach. As we walk, I lift my face to the sun. It’s a beautiful afternoon, warm and humid. Lots of families are spending Boxing Day on the beach, playing cricket and rugby, and swimming in the sea. Some of them have small Christmas trees planted in the sand—a very Kiwi tradition. The smell of barbecued food fills the air, making my mouth water.
We walk down to the waterline. Marcus doesn’t say anything, and I look across at him, expecting to find him lost in thought, but when he lifts his sunglasses up onto his hair, I realize he was watching me.
“I need to talk to you,” I say, and swallow hard.
“Okay.”
I bend and take off my sandals, and he does the same with his shoes, and we walk in the shallows. The water here is warm as it washes over my feet.
I look over at him. The way he’s pushed his glasses up has made his hair stick up on end. He looks young, fit, healthy, and devastatingly gorgeous.
“You said that we both want the same thing,” I begin. “And you’re right. You need an heir. And I also want a baby. But you would also like to demonstrate responsibility to the board by being married. I understand that. And I’m willing to agree to that, because you’ve explained how you’d like to be a father to the child, and you’re offering stability and security. But I need to ask you again. Please, please, please… will you consider donating for me?”
“I’ve told you. That’s non-negotiable.”
“Yes, because you don’t want your child to be conceived with a syringe, I remember. But if you care for me at all, Mars, please rethink it.”
He frowns. “When I get married, I’m going to be faithful to my wife. I understand that relationships have their ups and downs. But I’m not going to agree up front to live without sex.”
I bite my bottom lip. That’s a fair comment.
“I don’t understand,” he continues. “I’ve never had any complaints in bed. Why are you so set against having sex with me?”
“Because letting someone in makes me vulnerable, and my heart has already been broken so many times, I’m not sure I’ll survive it happening again.”
“I’m not going to hurt you, Wren. Not like that. Not ever.”
“You can’t say that,” I tell him heatedly. I stop walking as anxiety and frustration grip me and try to brush hair out of my eyes. “I mean, look at you.”
He glances down at himself. “What about me?”
“You’re gorgeous, Mars! And you’ve been with hundreds of women.”
“Well, not hundreds…”
“And you’re experienced in bed, I know you are. I know you’ll be great at sex. You’ll want… special things…”
His eyebrows rise. “Like what? Dancing ponies?”
“You know what I mean! Fancy techniques.”
“I do like candle wax…”
“See!”
“Wren, I’m kidding. I don’t have any shocking kinks, I swear.”
I’m too distressed to laugh. “You’ll get bored with me,” I whisper. “I’m not good in bed. And I’ll never be able to keep a guy like you.”
He stares at me, and then gradually his expression softens. “Ohhh…”
We stand there like that for a moment, my chest heaving as I try to get my emotions under control. He looks around,then takes my hand and leads me away from the waterline to an outcrop of rocks.
“Sit,” he instructs, gesturing at one of the larger, flatter ones. I lower onto it and watch him sit on another opposite me. Our knees are almost touching.
“Okay,” he says. “Talk to me.”
