“I do have one concern about the agreement.” While I haven’t seen it yet, I need to know that I won’t be on the line for thousands of dollars, owing him money if I can’t conceive.
“Yes?” he asks, glancing at me.
He’s waiting for me to elaborate.
I’m going to be sick. Bile rises to my throat.
I swallow back my nerves and sip the scorching hot liquid. The bitterness is a welcome treat. “If I can’t conceive, will I owe you for the apartment, medical expenses, all that you’re doing for me?”
I can’t look at him.
I stare into my mug, my eyes down toward the floor, embarrassed that I can’t afford to take care of myself.
Jace sighs and puts the spatula down. He approaches, looming over me.
Jace is tall. He puts NBA players to shame. I feel his presence even without looking up and seeing him.
“Look at me, Olivia.”
It takes all of my strength to glance up, just a little.
“While I hope that you will be able to get pregnant, I’m not an unreasonable man. I understand that it takes time, and I won’t fault you at any point. The apartment is because I want to make sure you have a roof over your head. You don’t owe me anything. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He seems too good to be true.
Too kind.
Too unrealistic.
I stare into his green eyes. I want to kiss him. But should I?