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“I have an autoimmune thing. It’s not a big deal. Most of the time. But it affects my joints, and my wrist has been hurting for a while.” Her words faded as her cheeks grew red. “I knew I was supposed to keep up with my prescriptions, but they’re expensive and I was doing really well for a while.”
Of course she couldn’t afford her prescriptions. She could barely afford her apartment on the meager salary Gary offered. Anger and frustration coursed through me at the thought of her suffering through any amount of pain and having to decide between her health and a place to live.
“So, we need to get you to a doctor?”
“It’s really expensive,” she whispered, resting her hand on the folder. “Too expensive for the proposal.”
She wasn’t saying no. Quite the opposite, actually.
“It’s not,” I assured her quickly. “Not at all. I’ll make some calls tomorrow, find a surgeon and whatever specialist you need.”
Hell, I’d send a message to my assistant tonight. Hopefully I’d have her back on her medicine before we even signed the marriage certificate.
She inhaled, her chest rising and her body straightening. “Okay,” she breathed, her brown eyes resting on the folder.
“Okay?”
“Okay, let’s do it.”
“Really?”
“Are you changing your mind?” she asked, shocked eyes locking with mine.
“No.” I shook my head. “No, not at all, but I just thought you’d want to negotiate more.”
“What’s there to negotiate? This is very…” She flipped the stack of pages, shaking her head. “Thorough. And generous. I didn’t expect an allowance.”
“So, there’s nothing you want to add?”
The edge of her lip hitched up. “I’m sure I’ll come up with something, but it’s not like we’re signing this, right?”
“No,” I admitted. “In fact, it’s probably better if I toss that.”
“It’d really screw up our marriage if anyone saw the business proposal.” Her eyes lit up, and she scooped up her wine glass, sipping it delicately. “I want to keep it for now, though. Just to read it over again.”
“Sure, it’s yours.”
She drained her glass. I refilled it, gesturing for the waiter to bring us a second bottle.
“So, what do you think about the wedding date?” I asked. “We could move it up if you need the surgery quicker.”
Nora frowned. “No, it’s not urgent, but…”
She trailed off, rotating her wrist and wincing at the pain.
“But it hurts?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that’s perfect,” I said, wincing as soon as the words were out of my mouth. “Well, not perfect, obviously, but it’ll explain why we’re in such a rush.”
She placed the course catalog back in its pocket and flipped to the third bookmarked section of the proposal. “So, we get married next month?”
“Right.” I leaned across the table, pointing out the highlighted dates just a week away. “If you could come to this event as my fiancé, that’d be great, but afterward, I have some downtime. We could schedule your surgery there, so I’d be around to help you.”
I sat back in my seat self-consciously as her cheeks turned pink.
“You don’t need to do that. The surgery isn’t a big deal, and I don’t want to put you out.”
