You’re acting like I’ve agreed to this.
Apollo
It’s like you said. I wasn’t asking.
Before she can bite my head off in a text, I add another.
Apollo
If you wanted to reject me, you would have already. Save us both the headache of denying this is going to happen.
Rayna
I should tell you to fuck off just to spite you.
Rayna
You assume too much.
Apollo
You like it as much as you hate it.
Another ten minutes pass, and then:
Rayna
Fine, we can have a meeting. A professional one. But I reserve the right to walk away if we can’t come to terms. Don’t expect to be able to swindle me into some deal where I lose my whole personality and bow down to you as my controller or something.
Apollo
I wouldn’t dream of it, love. See you at noon.
Rayna
Stop calling me love!
I chuckle, putting my phone away.
Never going to happen.
I arrive five minutes early, stand contracts and pens in hand. My future wife lets me into her home with a wary look in her eyes, but manufactured confidence keeping her head held high. I imagine she doesn’t know what to expect from today, but it won’t be as daunting as she might assume.
At least, it shouldn’t be.
She’s prepared by wearing her proverbial armor. Dress slacks and a blush pink blouse that makes her look more like she’s going into work as a high-end secretary than sitting down to discuss marriage.
Her small dining table is set with two water bottles and a stack of sticky notes. I hide a smile, noting the set up.
“You’ve prepared, I see,” I note, nodding to the setting.
“I baked the croissants too,” she mutters, rounding the table to find the furthest chair. “But we’ll see how this goes before I offer them.”
“I’ll endeavor to earn one.”
“Before we get started,” Rayna begins, sitting down with her shoulders straight and head held high. “I have a condition that I’m unwilling to negotiate on.”
Taking the seat across from her, I set my contracts on the table top. Passing one to her, along with a pen, I open a blank page. WritingRayna’s conditionat the top, I reply, “I’m listening.”