Page 22 of The Work Wife

“Okay. Good. That’s good, right? I was hasty when I said you should decide. It was rash. We’ll just forget—Wait. You have a list of questions?”

“Not a huge list, but substantial.” He feared it wasn’t substantial enough.

“Right. Yes. Obviously there would be questions we need to talk over together.”

“Do you want to start?” he offered.

“Uh. No. You go ahead. I’m sure they’re the same questions I have.”

“Okay. My first question would be about living arrangements.”

“Sure.” She nodded.

“What are your thoughts on that?” he pushed when she said nothing more.

“Well, you wouldn’t want to move in with me. My place is small. You have a spare room.”

“You think we should live together?” He couldn’t live with her. That would somehow cross a line that saying I do apparently didn’t.

“It would save on rent. And everyone would expect it.”

“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Is it a deal breaker?” she asked formally, going to the whiteboard and writing it down as he nodded.

“Yes. I think it is.”

“Okay. We won’t live together. But we’ll have to pretend we do for work.”

He nodded his agreement and frowned at his wrinkled paper.

“What about . . .” His face felt like fire. He didn’t talk about sex with Jamie. Though she had always been quite open about it on her end. It wasn’t that he didn’t talk about it because she was a woman.

He had sex. He liked sex. But he didn’t talk about it. He generally let his dates initiate the next step and went along with it without discussion.

“What about what?” she asked, taking the paper and looking at his list. This concern wasn’t written down. Apparently he couldn’t even write out the word sex on a piece of paper. What was wrong with him?

She looked up at him expectantly. “The only thing you have on this list is living arrangements.”

“I have the rest of the list memorized.”

“Okay, so what is the next thing?”

“Consummating the marriage.” He spit it out formally, expecting her to laugh. She didn’t.

“Oh.” Good. He’d finally forced her to see the craziness of this plan. She scrunched up her nose and looked him over.

“Really? Did you just make your disgust face when considering the idea of sex with me?” It was a bit insulting.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t see you that way. I have HMB when it comes to you.”

“HMB?”

“Hot male blindness.”

“Is this a clinical diagnosis?”

“Not really.” She laughed and he felt less uncomfortable.