"What does PDA mean to you, Sebastian? I want to be very clear and have it in writing," I restate.

"You want me to put in writing what PDA means?" he questions.

"Yes, I do."

He groans. "Okay, fine. What's PDA to you, innocent woman?"

"Insulting me isn't going to get you anywhere," I warn.

He snaps, "Well, what is it?"

Embarrassment fills me. I confess, "I don't know. Holding hands, kissing in public, hugging."

"Okay. Well, that's what it means," he says.

"Sebastian, I don't want any of your games on this."

"Georgia, keep your panties on. Wait, maybe you shouldn't keep your panties on," he teases.

"See, this is exactly what I'm talking about," I tell him.

"Calm down. I'm a man of my word," he claims.

Something about his statement doesn't make me feel like he's a man of his word. I'm not letting my guard down yet. "Spell it out in the prenup, Sebastian, or I'm not signing this."

"Fine. I'll have the attorney spell it out. Anything else?"

"When will I be able to review the annulment papers?"

"You want to review the annulment papers?"

"Yes."

"The annulment papers that annul that our marriage took place, which gives you a million dollars in your bank account?" he questions.

"Correct."

In a frustrated tone, he inquires, "Georgia, why are you worried about the annulment papers?"

I admit, "I'm trying to do my due diligence."

"Listen, Sunshine. It's Friday on a holiday weekend. I already had to jump through hoops to get my attorney to do this prenup. Now I need to go back to him and have him work on these amendments. You can review the annulment paperwork before you sign it, okay? I'll give you plenty of time, but you can't expect me to get him to draw up those papers this weekend," Sebastian remarks.

I consider his statement and decide he's right. I concede but stipulate, "Then add in that if you don't give me at least a week to review the annulment papers, then you're in breach."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, I am serious, Sebastian."

"Fine, I'll have it added. Anything else?"

I ponder it for a moment, then reply, "No. That's it."

"Good. Now it's my turn."

Goose bumps pop out on my skin. "Your turn for what?"

"My attorney and I will meet you at your place tomorrow. Then we're leaving," he reveals.

My stomach dives. "I thought we were going Monday?"

"Change of plans per my father. We're expected for breakfast on Sunday morning, so that means we need to be there Saturday night," he informs me.

I stay quiet.

"We can sign the prenup before we leave," he offers.

It'll be real. There will be no turning back.

I blurt out, "Don't we have to get married before we leave?" I hadn't thought about that detail yet.

"No. The wedding will be the following Saturday," he announces.

The hairs on my neck rise. "With your family?"