“Why?That’s not what we are, right?”She sat up straight and placed her mug on the coffee table.“I accept you for who you are with me.I don’t need anything else.”
“Most women would think me bringing them to my personal home meant a commitment.”
“I’m not most women.”
“I know.”He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers.“You’re more.”
She took hold of his hand and held it.“Thank you for those pretty words, but they aren’t necessary.”
“You sound like you don’t believe me.”
“You promised me honesty.”
“What makes you think I’m not honest?You don’t think you’re amazing?”
“I think ...that we need breakfast.I’ll cook.”
The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her feelings.Rising, she headed into the kitchen, hunting for everything she needed to make cheesy eggs, bacon, and toast.She wasn’t a great cook, but she was skilled enough for the basics.
He followed, carrying both mugs.“More coffee?”
“Actually, do you have any juice?”she asked as she melted butter in the pan.
“I think so.”He went to refrigerator and looked inside.He pulled out a large, plastic container and poured something red in it.“Here.”
She took it and drank, grimacing at the bitter flavor.“What is that?”
“Pomegranate juice.”
“Interesting,” she said, setting the glass down.“There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
“What is it?”
“You haven’t been wearing condoms,” she replied, not looking at him.It had hit her in the middle of the night, and she had to admit, it freaked her out a little.She wasn’t ready to be a mother just yet.
“I’m clean.”
“So am I, but that’s not the point.I’m not on the pill.We’ve been lucky so far—”
“I can’t get you pregnant,” he informed her.“I had a vasectomy years ago.”
That shocked her so much she dropped the spatula as she spun around.“What?”
“You heard me,” he said, tilting his head.“Can’t trust condoms to be one hundred percent foolproof.Or unscrupulous women digging semen out of the used condoms.”
“Ew.That’s a thing?”Disgusting, she thought.“So, you never want children?”
“Let’s just say, I’m not good father material,” he responded, not directly answering but it was clear from his tone that was the truth.Or what he believed was the truth.
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“It did.”
“Okay,” she said, and turned back to the stove.Whether he truly believed that or not, he’d just confirmed what she’d feared—they were two very different people, despite what he had said.
Suddenly, his phone rang.He glanced at the face and then connected the call.It was impossible not to hear his side of the conversation.
“Another?Fuck!”he shouted.“Lock everything down.I’ll be there shortly.”
