“As rich as I can be.”
“Hmm…” I say, pushing my gaze down.
“What’s that all about?”
“Nothing.”
I focus on the burgers and turn the grill off before sliding the food onto our plates.
“You don’t like me rich?” he says with self-deprecating humor while I set the tongs on the cutter board.
“All my men were rich, so why would I have something against you?” I joke, and he laughs wholeheartedly.
“You’re funny.”
“So I’ve been told.”
I check the food in the oven before spinning back to him.
“A few more minutes, and it’s done.”
I toss the salad with the vinaigrette and fill our salad bowls.
His eyes make me blush.
I try to avoid his stare, but it’s impossible, so I look up.
“Is there a reason you are asking me all this?” he asks, and I smile, pick up my wine, and walk around the counter.
He shifts in his seat to face me.
“No reason. It’s just that…”
I take another sip.
I need it.
“Do you remember when you said we needed to fuck and then move on, or whatever?” I ask.
“I said we needed to fuck and get each other out of our systems.”
“Okay,” I say, smiling.
“Yes, I do. Why?” he asks.
“For a moment, I thought the day we were supposed to go separate ways and move on was today.”
“What made you think that?” he says, his eyes searching mine, his smile gone.
“Nothing in particular. It’s just that I wanted to manage my expectations,” I say sincerely.
I’ve never been more honest in my life.
Thoughtfully, he brings his hand to my face and brushes his fingers over my cheek, his eyes holding mine.
“You don’t want this to end…” he says, and I slowly shake my head.
“No, I don’t. But I had to ask.”
