Page 57 of The Billionaire's Shrubbery

Virginia yelps, startled.

“Don’t move,” she says, jumping up and running to the front door where she’s left her shoes. She comes right back, hands me mine and takes the tray from me. “I don’t feel like pulling porcelain from your toes tonight. I’ll grab the broom.”

Virginia disappears in the direction of the kitchen. I slide on my loafers and take this as a sign to not mention what’s been on my mind.

But when she dances back, pretending the broom is a dance partner, I know I have to deal with this. Virginia deserves all the joy the world has to offer and if that means having kids, I need to break this off so she can find a man who’ll give her that experience. I step out of the way and stand like a dolt while she hums and sweeps up my mess.

“We can share a cup tonight,” she says after leaning the broom and dustpan against the wall.

I drop onto the couch and she stretches her legs out across my lap.

“Do you like kids?” I ask.

An easy opener. If she hates them, I’ll be able to leave for my tour knowing she’ll be waiting for me when I get back.

“Ilovethem.” She emphasizes the wordloveby tilting her face toward the ceiling, as if looking at heaven.

Shit. “Love them as much as you love, say, your plant babies?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she leans forward and studies me, the same way I’ve seen her lean toward the TV when she’s trying to decipher whether a person is guilty of a crime based on their body language.

“Will, you’re acting weird. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were pregnant and afraid to tell me.”

Why is this so damn hard? I can talk off the cuff in front of a thousand people, but for this conversation, my brain and mouth are smoking pot offstage.

“Virginia … I’m trying to have a serious talk here.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Have you forgotten I’m an astute observer of human behavior?” she says with a smile. “What are you really asking me?”

“Do you want to have kids?” I blurt.

Her eyes open wider than I’ve ever seen them.

“Um … uh,” she stutters. “Are you asking if I want to have your kids? Kids withyou?”

“No. No, I mean, in general. Is your …” I place my hand on my stomach. “Is your baby clock ticking or whatever?”

“My baby clock?” She jumps to her feet and spins, looking around the room. “Shit! I have a baby clock? Does it need to be wound? Oh God, have I left my baby clock unwound?”

“For fuck’s sake, Virginia, don’t make fun.” I’m losing it, and she’s acting like this is a big joke.

She stifles a small laugh. “You’re very cute when you’re nervous, you know. I’ve never seen this look on you. I kind of like it.”

I grunt. I don’t like it at all.

“Will, sweetie, baby, honey, I do not want kids. I never have.” She grabs my hand and pulls me to stand in front of her. I don’t know what she reads on my face, but her tone adjusts. “I thought you didn’t want kids. Have you changed your mind? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

I pull her close. “No, I still don’t want kids, just clarity about what you want in your future.”

“What I want?” Virginia tilts her head so I can see her face. “What I want is all the fun without the ‘oops.’”

“I have good news for you, then. If you’re naked with me, there’ll never be an ‘oops.’ I had a vasectomy when I was twenty-five.”

Virginia pulls out of our embrace and takes three steps away from me.

“Why are you scowling?” This conversation could not be more confusing.

“Are you telling me that for the last nine weeks, we could’ve been having sexwithoutcondoms?”

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