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“Nothing. I’ll take care of it afterhours. I know we’re behind schedule,. I’ll have your PowerPoint ready to go for tonight’s dinner meeting in a half hour.” That doesn’t appease him. In fact, his glower grows even darker.
“Cancel the meeting tonight. I have something to take care of. The car will be here to drive you home at the end of day. I’ll meet you there.”
That’s all the explanation he gives before he’s out the door, briefcase in hand. Not even kidding; it’s like a pod person has replaced my boss. Any second, the real Price Ford will come stumbling out of a supply closet covered in alien slime with a weird abduction and captivity tale. As outlandish as it seems, it’s really the most plausible explanation.
The rest of the afternoon flies by, and I find without Price hovering around me, I have the time to finish my tasks and call Anders Karisson back. I walk in the door to Price’s house to find dinner on the table and a determined-looking Price shoving takeout containers into the recycle bin.
“Is that…salmon and asparagus with quinoa?”
Price nods, and gestures for me to sit.
I mean, I’m hungry, so I take my seat, but I’m also not stupid, and I know there’s more to this story. He’s got a guilty look on his face, and this is the farthest thing from a typical meal for us. Price might be into healthy eating and earth-friendly menus, but he’s also not in the habit of skipping carbs or cheese. This table has none of the stuff I know he likes.
“Price, you hate asparagus, and just last week, you lectured Foster in marketing about how the pressure to meet global health fanatics’ demand for quinoa is ruining the soil quality for Bolivian farmers. And Iknowhow you feel about the havoc salmon farming causes for marine ecosystems. What gives?”
“It’s a problem for me to arrange a healthy meal for you now, hmm, Lyric? You allow me to select our dinners nearly every night, but today, you want to argue with me? Was an afternoon alone in the office an opportunity for you to forget who is in charge here?”
His words are deceptively soft and gentle, but I know enough to recognize Price needs to feel my submission. That whatever’s got him riled up and acting strange hasn’t thrown our dynamic off its stride. We may not have any official titles between us, just as we haven’t exchanged I love you’s, but the relationship is there. Price stepped into the role of Daddy the first time he slid his hand under my skirt and cupped my pussy, claiming it for his own.
So for tonight, I’ll give him what he wants. I’ll let him make my decisions and do all the caretaking things I know make him happy. Then tomorrow, I’ll figure out why he’s feeding me fertility-enhancing foods and hiding my birth control.
I have to admit, it’s amusing he really believes he can pull one over on me. This is my body, after all. If having babies with Price wasn’t already in my plans, I’d be more upset at his underhanded tactics, but he’s giving me what I want most in the world, so we’re good.
Still, I hope he’s ready to learn some lessons about manipulating me to get what he wants. This is going to be fun. I only hope his ruse works out quickly. I want a baby with Price Ford, and I want him to resolve whatever it is that’s got him thinking he needs to trick me to get what we both want, instead of just talking to me.
Chapter5
Price
For a moment that night, I worried Lyric was on to me. She’d called me out of the food I served, knowing it’s not in our typical diet. I distracted her with lovemaking and workload, and over the last three weeks, I think she’s been completely unaware of all the changes.
Every meal she eats is designed either to boost her fertility or to diminish the efficacy of her birth control pills. After that first morning, when she’d asked me about her pill and toothbrush, she hasn’t raised the question again. Every morning, I pop the damned pill out of its little foil bubble and let it dissolve under my feet while I shower.
I wonder how long it’ll take to see results. Lyric hasn’t taken any unexpected time off, so I don’t think she’s gone to any job interviews. She certainly hasn’t been acting like a woman planning to leave a man. I want to tell myself I jumped to a wrong conclusion, but the risk is too great. At this point, I’ve gone too far to turn back.
My stomach churns with an overload of anxiety-fueled acid while I wonder if I fucked up. I can’t even bring myself to finally give Lyric the words she deserves to hear from me, that I love her and want to spend the rest of my life with her at my side. I can’t say those things to her while I’m deceiving her like this. When we get home from work tonight, I’m going to scrap this stupid plan and order a pizza to feed her.
And as soon as her period comes, I’ll stop hiding her birth control pills and trying to trick her. Maybe, then, I won’t feel like a dirtbag when I give her the ring secreted away in my safe deposit box. I commissioned it from a local artist months ago, and she delivered it earlier this week. Using ethically sourced gems and materials, it’s the perfect way to promise forever to Lyric. Once I shake off the negative energy I’ve garnered with this shit, anyway.
“I’ll need the car this morning for a quick errand before my afternoon classes. I checked your calendar, and it doesn’t look like you’ve got any appointments out of the building today. Good if I take it?”
Just like that, my confidence that I’d misunderstood the reason for the updated resume she printed is obliterated. An unexplained and unscheduled on our joint calendar errand in the middle of the day? That spells a job interview to me.
“Yes, fine. That’s fine. Drive safe, and let me know when you get there, alright?”
Because what the fuck else am I going to say? No? Right. Have I suddenly developed a streak of nobility that will allow me to let her go if that’s what she wants? Of course not. I’ll just have to find another way to tie her to me instead of tricking her into having my baby. Unless, it’s already too late. Lyric could be pregnant with my baby. A baby I know she’ll love and adore and be the best mama for in the world.
I don’t stop myself from pulling Lyric onto my lap as she passes my chair with her breakfast dishes. It doesn’t escape my notice, even though I put a carafe of orange juice on the table this morning, she grabbed the carton of grapefruit juice and poured that into her glass. Research is inconclusive, but there’s some evidence suggesting grapefruit diminishes the effectiveness of birth control medications.
Lyric can’t know the reason there’s suddenly so much of the stuff in the fridge here and at the office lately. She doesn’t seem to have any idea of the turmoil roiling around inside me as she perches on my thighs and leans forward to grab my coffee cup to hand to me.
“I always drive safely, Price. You know how I get when I’m behind the wheel.” Lyric was in a bad accident as a teenager when the boyfriend she was riding with lost control of the car and wrecked. She’s the consummate example of a safe driving poster. Still, she’s the most precious person in my world, and even knowing how careful she is, I sometimes find myself worrying about all the things that could happen to her.
When she gets up to return to our room to finish getting ready for work, I intend to pour the remaining grapefruit juice down the drain. I can’t rewind the clock and undo three weeks of sabotaging her birth control. I can and, if I am half the man I’ve always considered myself to be, I will stop this madness and find a more reasonable way to keep Lyric by my side.
I do not, however, pour out the rest of the grapefruit juice. Rather, I add another carton to the ordering app on the screen on the front of the refrigerator. Why? Because as much as I want to believe I’m a good man, I know it’s bullshit. What I am is a man who can’t live without his woman. Who won’t live without his woman.
Chapter6
