Page 59 of The Proposal
He smiles. “Deal.”
“You agreed to that so easily. What about sex? Can you go that long without it?”
He smirks. “I saiddeal.”
Fine. I scribble the agreed-upon length of commitment on the back of the receipt.
“Andyou’refiling for divorce,” I say. “Not me. And if anyone says I was after your money or whatever, you have to defend me.”
“That’s a guarantee.”
How is it this easy? I add that to the receipt.
“You have to accompany me to events,” he says. “You have to live with me.”
“Live with you?”
“Live with me.” His eyes sparkle. “We have to sell it, baby.”
“Ugh.”
“No ice cream in the bed,” he says.
“I’m signing a prenup.”
“No prenup.”
“Renn …”
“No prenup. It would be a postnup now anyway.”
I start to argue the point, but the look on his face stops me. “No co-mingling of money or assets.”
“Sure.”
Something about the glimmer in his eye concerns me.
“You have to let me treat you like my wife,” he says. “For ninety days, youareMrs. Brewer.”
“Fine. But I don’t think you understand that I’m not the domestic type.”
“I didn’t marry you for your domestic abilities.”
“You married me because of an alcohol made from agave,” I say.
“We should name our first son that.”
I sigh as the whole baby thing hits me again. “I’m on the fence about the baby part of this, Renn. I’m not sure I want to do that.”
He narrows his eyes. “Can I choke you during sex?”
My insides burn so hot that I shift in my seat. “You said you could go ninety days without sex.”
“But you won’t be able to.” His smirk is so deep, so delicious, that I shiver. “And you also have to change your name.”
“That’s a little unnecessary for three months, don’t you think?”
“I want my wife to have my name,” he says with a casual shrug like we’re discussing the weather.
