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Foster places both hands on the counter. “What is it all about?”
“You’re attitude. You’ll hurt me.”
“I’d never hurt you.”
“You have, over and over. You’re incapable of any emotion except anger.”
He frowns, asking, “You think so?”
I push my sweat-dampened hair over my shoulder. “I’ve been with you long enough to see you in action.”
“I have passion.”
“I need more than passion. I need a connection to enjoy sex, and I don’t have that with you.”
“Sex is merely physical. It’s what comes after that’s the problem.”
“And we’re back to the question, what do you want from me?”
Foster ignores my question and pops a thick slice of cheese into his mouth. I watch him chew slowly, our eyes never breaking away from each other. When he finishes, he graces me with an answer.
“I haven’t figured it out yet.”
I throw my hands up in disgust. “When you do, kindly let me know. I need a shower.”
“Why?”
“Excuse me?”
“Why do you need a shower?”
“Because I’m sweaty, and I stink. I needed some way to work off my frustration, and the treadmill was as good as anything.”
“Not sex?”
“Suppose I just give you permission to sleep with other people?”
Foster’s eyes widen. “It’s not part of the contract. I’ll be faithful until it’s over, whenever that may be. Did you have a good time with your friends?”
I frown at his subject change. “How did you know I went out with my friends? Are you spying on me?”
“Peters told me. You did use the limo.”
“And he reported back to you. Is that how you knew I wasn’t wearing my rings?”
“No, you left them on the counter. They were hard to miss.”
“I’m tired. I need a shower and a nap.”
Foster shifts, and the knot in his towel loosens, causing it to sink lower on his hips. I’m going to die if it falls to the floor.
“Let’s have dinner.”
Distracted, I tell him, “I’m not in the mood to go out.”
“I’ll have it brought here.”
“Can I let you know after my shower?”
