“Can I think about it?” she asks quietly, her head still bowed. “And let you know?”

“Of course,” I say back and lift her chin up with my fingertips. “Are you very hungry?” I ask her as I grab another morsel from the plate.

“Yes,” she says, a little bit defeated. “I really am. I feel starved.”

“You have to go slow, so you can enjoy it. Otherwise you might eat too fast. And that will never do. You can’t enjoy our time together if you’re busy scarfing down food. Just be patient and know that you will be satisfied when we’re done. Even if it takes longer to get there this way, understand?”

“OK,” she says.

I don’t like her defeated attitude at all. I prefer feisty Grace over this demure imitation. But I need that contract signed tonight, and this was the only way to get that. “Now tell me about your day, sweetness. Tell me about your new job.”

“It’s just a job. I don’t want to talk about it with you. If you’re not really interested in me as a person, and this is just about conquering me during sex, then I’m not interested in sharing my day with you.”

“That’s not all I’m interested in, Grace. I’m just trying to be honest with you, that’s all. I don’t want to hurt you. I want us to enjoy each other. I think we can have a nice relationship.”

“Relationship?” she huffs. “This isn’t my idea of a relationship. A relationship doesn’t come with walking-away money.”

“So give it all away.”

“You’ll just put more in my account.”

“So give that away too. Give it all away. When it ends, you can give that last thirty thousand away as well. Problem solved. You can spend every minute with me practicing your role as a philanthropist.”

“This isn’t—” She looks up at me and swallows. “You’re not anything like the man I fantasized about.”

“Hmmm, I think being unrealistic is a trademark of all fantasies, don’t you?” She doesn’t answer, just stares up at me. “But since we’re talking about it, you’re exactly the kind of woman I fantasized about.”

“Is that my consolation prize?”

“Grace,” I say, placing the meat from the plate up against her lips. She opens and takes the morsel, chewing slowly. “You’re sending me mixed signals again. Did you think this was a serious relationship? Did I lead you on?”

She shakes her head and then swallows the food. “No, it’s just not very romantic to be told you’re getting money to walk away.”

“Ha!” I say. “I am the romantic one in this arrangement, Kinsella. You’re the one who never wants to get married! You practically admitted you’re not romantic. I sent you flowers today. I sent you a happy-first-day message. I arranged this perfect evening of sex, and fun, and food. Not to mention the titillating conversation. What more do you want?”

“I want it to be real,” she says defensively. “And not something fake. Not something you do because you’re looking to get something in return.”

“Real? Really? Then why do you keep comparing me to your fantasy?”

She sighs and then collapses back onto the rug, her long legs stretching out on either side of mine. “OK, never mind. My feelings don’t count. I get it.”

I lie down next to her, propping my head up with my elbow. “I never said that. Why are you so conflicted? Just have fun, for f**k’s sake. Just enjoy this. Smile, be happy. Tell me about your day.”

She eyes me suspiciously with a sidelong glance. “If I tell you about my day, then you have to tell me about yours.”

“Deal,” I say quickly.

“All of it. Even secret stuff.”

“What kind of secret stuff?”

She lets out a long sigh and then smiles. “I don’t know.” She laughs and the tension releases. “Personal things, so I don’t feel so… impersonal.”

I drag a stray length of hair out of her eyes and tuck it behind her ear. “I can do that. Every time we meet, I will tell you something no one else knows. Will that make you happy?”

She nods. “Tell me something now. Something that happened today that no one else knows.”

“Hmm.” I lie all the way down next to her and fold my hands over my stomach. “No one knows how happy you made me today.” I look over at her and she’s shaking her head.

“Nope, that’s not gonna work. It can’t be about me.”

“OK, I have this adopted daughter—”

“Daughter?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean, she’s not my daughter, but I think of her as one. Felicity’s a senior in college. I adopted her when she was sixteen. So anyway, I hired my brother to hack her phone today so I can keep track of her.”

I look over at her and her mouth is gaping open. “Oh my God, that is so wrong.”

“I know. It’s a secret. You wanted one, so there. You got one. I’m spying on Felicity because I’m a controlling ass**le who can’t let go. I wish she’d been mine from the beginning. It makes me sad to think that she had all those important moments in life and I missed them. I get torn up inside when I think about how many shitty birthdays she had before she came into my life. Or how many Christmases she had to endure with no family to love her.”

We sit there in silence for a few seconds and I wonder how she’ll take this.

“I think,” Grace says in a low whisper, “I think that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Good,” I say with genuine relief. “I’ve redeemed myself. I just hope Felicity doesn’t find out, she might not think it’s so sweet. Now,” I say getting to my feet, and then pulling her up as I sit in my chair. “Come back here and tell me about your day while I feed you.”

And she does. Pausing every few sentences to take in the food I feed her, but then picking up right where she left off after she swallows it down. I take that time to feed myself, cutting my own steak and enjoying her conversation as I listen with an attentive ear while I chew. And then I tell her about mine. About lunch with my agent. About production schedules, and other mundane things that people talk about at dinner. We trade off that way, her talking while I eat, me talking while she eats.