“I would have thought you might have been more concerned about STDs than a rogue drop of semen. I know I’m safe with Virgin Therese, but you know I’ve been with other women. Yet you never asked me. Kinda stupid on your part, don’t you think?”

I deflated. I had been stupid. Young and so very stupid.

“I haven’t had unprotected sex … except what just happened with you, since I was last tested. You’re safe. So at least if you’re pregnant, you’ll have one less thing to worry about,” he said.

“Not helpful.”

Fisher grinned. “It’s a little helpful.”

“I’m not ovulating.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I was really worried about it.”

“That can’t happen again.”

He set down his beer and held up his hands in surrender. “I’m pretty sure you knocked on my door. And I guarantee you I wasn’t going to get you pregnant with my face between your legs.”

My jaw flapped a few times, but nothing came out.

“Maybe you should think about getting on birth control.”

“What?” My head jerked backward. “I’m not having sex.”

“Reese.” His smile vanished because he was being twenty-eight and I was being … younger. A lot younger.

Stupid.

Naive.

Childish.

I wasn’t stupid. I was scared and disappointed in myself. It was easier to act shocked and offended by his comment than to admit my part in what we did.

“It just …” I admitted my wrongdoing with the change—the defeat—in my tone instead of saying the actual words. “It can’t happen again.”

With a quick half shrug, he reached for his bottle of beer. “Agreed.”

“What if …” I cleared my throat. “Hypothetically, what if I were pregnant?”

“No.” He grunted. “No. We are not doing this. If you come back to me in a few weeks with a positive test, we’ll have this conversation. But I’m not having it now.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not.”

“I think it’s irresponsible to not at least have a plan.”

“Me too. If I had a vagina, and I wanted to play peekaboo with the head of a guy’s dick, I’d plan ahead and be on birth control.”

Wow.

That hurt.

Fisher wasn’t just cold about it; he was cruel. Aloof, like he didn’t care about me.

“I’ll see you in the morning, unless I’m driving to the office and we’re not together.”

We’re not together.

It was funny how I managed to say exactly what was on my mind, just in a different context.

“We’re together.”

That hurt too because I knew he meant it completely in the work sense. He let Angie go. He let Teagan go. Why did I think I would be any different?

“Goodnight.”

Chapter Eighteen