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“Can I think about it?”
“You can’t give me an answer now?”
“If you want it now, then its no.”
“Is that final?”
“Can we clean up first and discuss this?”
It’s three in the morning, and Jordan is sitting cross-legged in front of me on the bed. We’re discussing his proposal.
“Why not now?”
“We don’t know each other. Three months from now, you might say this is a mistake.”
“I won’t. I never felt this way about someone. You’re it.”
“Why the hurry? I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re mine. I want you to be my wife.”
“You’re a rich man, and I’m a nobody. Do you know what they’re going to say?”
“You’re not a nobody. And I don’t care what they’re going to say.”
“They’re going to say I’m a gold digger that hooked myself a rich guy so I can set myself up for the future. That I used my pussy and my looks to get you into my bed.”
“Stop it. Stop saying things like that. You did nothing of the sort.”
“You and I know that, but they’re going to say things. It will be splashed all over the tabloids. Then it will come out that you own part of Scarborough, and I work there. The whole thing is going to be a disaster. They’ll compare me to Natalie Salas.”
“Natalie was a fling. It was never serious.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Then we’ll have an engagement announcement. You can plan a wedding, say, a few months from now. That will give everyone time to settle into the idea that we’re a serious couple.”
“I think we should wait.”
“I want a pre-engagement then. Promise me, right here, right now.”
“Is it that important to you that I agree to marry you later, even if it’s a year?”
“It won’t be. I don’t want a year engagement.”
“It’s not an engagement; it’s a pre-engagement.”
“Whatever it is, I want a progression. I want you to me, Mrs. Jordan Grayson, by next year.”
“I like Emma Stanford-Grayson.”
“No. I want you to have my name only.”
“And I want to be independent. Why the fuck are we talking about this now? It will be months before we even get close to marrying. The whole thing is ridiculous this early in our relationship.”
I yawn because three hours of sleep, sex, and this conversation are wearing me thin.
“Do you want to go back to sleep?”
