I keep my eyes on the passersby outside the passenger side window. The problem is too personal to just blurt out in the car. Of course, I appreciate his concern, but I don’t want to raise it like this.

Anyway, how do I approach the matter? Do I just come out and tell him, Hey, so why are you carrying like a hundred condoms with you at all times? No.

I mean it’s not really a problem, is it? I shake my head a little. Of course not. It’s totally okay to wear a condom. Good, actually.

Mentally, I make a list of all the reasons why wearing a condom during sex is a good thing. It’s a pretty long one.

Next, I compare the list to why it’s a problem. Of course, I can really only come up with one reason—a pretty major one, though.

Let’s face it, girlfriends. If I’m going to have his baby, he will need to fuck me without a condom at some point in time.

But this might be where my problem is. I’m getting way ahead of myself.

We haven’t actually agreed to that, so maybe I’m the one being obsessive here. Maybe he’s just looking out for me, protecting me in case we call the whole thing off.

When he pulls up outside his luxury penthouse, I stay in my seat.

“Um,” he starts and looks at me. “Are you not getting out?”

It’s my turn to be confused.

“Are you leaving your car?” I ask and bite my tongue. I wish I hadn’t said that. Standing on the curb is a smartly dressed man. Why am I letting all my insecurities about the status of our relationship/business deal come out as scathing remarks?

“Not for long,” he replies and comes over to hold my door open.

When we walk into his penthouse, I hold my breath for a few seconds and let my eyes feast on what’s on offer.

The most exquisite nutmeg-colored wooden floorboards gleam in the artificial light, offset by a beige-gray wall color with fancy artwork hanging here and there. Like the gentleman he is, Daniel takes my coat and places it on a hook near the door. Then he walks me into the living room.

Here, I’m greeted by huge floor-to-ceiling glass windows and a half-moon black leather lounge.

It’s minimalist, but tastefully decorated. I slip out of my shoes and walk over to the grand piano I spot in a corner.

I let my fingers move over the white keys, playing the E-major scale. Old habits die hard.

“You play?” I ask, a little surprised to find such a valuable piece in his apartment.

Daniel shrugs. “A little.”

I squint and stare at him. I don’t think he’s telling me the whole truth.

From the piano, I move to the huge windows and feast on the view. It’s breathtaking.

Below me is the entire cityscape. The lights make it look like a fairy village. I smile.

“Wow,” I say and turn to him.

Daniel is standing by a small bar. For the first time, I notice the large spiral staircase leading to an upper floor. I wonder if that’s where the bedroom is.

“Drink?”

“What can you offer?” I try to sound playful, but my mind is still elsewhere. From time to time, I’m like a dog with a bone—I can’t let go of something when it starts troubling me. And unfortunately, the whole condom thing is troubling me.

God, I wish I could just let it go.

I can’t explain it. I’ve always been like this. As soon as I fixate on something, I can’t let it go until I’ve got an explanation or a solution.

Apparently, this obsession of mine used to drive my poor mother insane. No one was safe from my questions and persistence if I couldn’t understand something right away. Like one day, Dad brought home a word search, and I didn’t rest until I completed every last exercise.

“Martini, cocktail, vodka and orange.”

I laugh. “How about a lemon-lime and bitters?”

I watch Daniel’s expert movements preparing drinks for a while, then I turn back to the view. I know it’s not of mountains or the ocean, but it’s pretty amazing.

To think, below us are people going about their business, partying in nightclubs, and finding their way to their little homes. And here I am on top of the world.

His arms wrap around me from behind and hand me my drink. A little of the pink bubbly liquid spills onto the shiny floorboards.

“Oops, sorry,” I mumble and go to bend down and clean it up.

But his arms stop me from moving. He’s kissing me on my neck, nibbling on my ear lobe, and sucking on the spot just underneath.

My knees instantly turn to jelly, and my head leans against his chest.

“Something’s bothering you,” he whispers into my ear. “I can tell.”

It’s strange how Daniel is also not letting go of the matter. We’re more alike than I thought. I mean, in a way, we seem worlds apart. Just looking around here where he lives ―compared to my little sardine tin of a flat―only highlights this to me.

And yet, he’s also not letting go of my change in mood. He’s totally in tune with me.

I turn to face him. He doesn’t release me, and I’m still trapped in his arms. It makes me feel secure, wanted, almost loved.

The words I want to say die on my lips. I can’t possibly tell him what’s troubling me. I mean, it’s just ridiculous. Let it go, Rose, I tell myself. Let it go.

“Nothing’s wrong.” I try to put as much emphasis on the nothing and wrong as I can.

It really shouldn’t matter.

I try to tell myself to relax. I mean, I should look around and live in the moment. Enjoy the luxury. When was the last time one of my ex-boyfriends took me to their place, and it looked like this?

That’s an easy answer.

Never.

I have to remember: Daniel isn’t an ordinary run-of-the-mill man. Daniel is special, and we’re still in the getting-to-know-you phase to see if—and I have to remember it’s only an if—I should take it to the next level by having a baby with him.

“It’s because of the condom, isn’t it?”

I’ve just taken a sip of my drink when Daniel puts my concern into words.

I nearly choke on it. I cough and splatter and cough some more. Tears stream from my eyes.

Daniel rubs my back gently. It’s a very caring, personal gesture.

Then he takes me by the hand and leads me to the black leather lounge.

I feel as if I’m melting into the leather. I’ve never sat on a couch as soft as this. It hugs my body, and I don’t think I’ll ever want to get up again.

“Okay.” His concerned eyes are looking straight at me.

I already feel really bad for having raised the matter at all―in body language, if not actual words. It really was so silly of me.

I’m about to tell him it doesn’t matter, but he puts his index finger on my lips.

“Shh,” he says, gently but firmly. “I’ll need to tell you at some point in time anyway, so I may as well make it now.”

Something hard and cold squeezes my heart. Is there something wrong with him? Maybe he’s fatally ill, which of course would explain this whole wanting an heir thing.

Oh, my god. That’s it. He’s dying.

Here I was, getting drawn in by his charm and wanting to have his baby―and maybe so much more―and he’s about to die.

I press my hand to my mouth, my eyes wide, not wanting to hear what he has to say, but needing to know all the same.

“It’s…” He starts and stops again. “As you must understand, this is fucking difficult to talk about.”

Difficult? Do I understand?

Now I feel more of those tears well up in my eyes. If I’m not careful, I’ll start bawling my eyes out before he’s even started to tell me the bad news.

I wonder how long he’s got? Are we talking days, months, or years? Would the baby even get to know his or her father?

When he looks at me with his crooked smile, I know I missed something.

“Um, sorry,” I mumble and take another sip of my drink. I can’t imagine what my face must look like right now.

“The thing is, I don’t seem to be able to, well…um…to come inside a woman if I don’t…wear a condom.”

Wait, what? Hold the train.

Did I hear him correctly? I regret taking a sip of my drink because it’s all I can do to not spit it out all over the place right now.

I want to laugh, because this surely is a joke, but one look at Daniel’s face tells me he wouldn’t understand. I mean, I thought he was dying.

But this? I never expected this. This problem is something different altogether.

Something I have no idea how to wrap my head around.

“So…” I’m not quite sure what to say.

“I know.” Daniel’s kneading his hands together. “It’s silly, really, but—” He stops again.

“And it can’t be…treated?”

I have to admit I’ve never heard of the condition. It almost sounds made up. But surely there must be something he can do.

I’m no psychologist, but it sounds very much like a psychological thing to me.

He sighs and looks at me. Those puppy eyes have grown even larger, if that’s possible.

“The cures the doctor suggested are all silly, and the ones I’ve tried haven’t worked at all.”

“Cures?” Where the hell is this going? This is getting stranger by the second. I tilt my head to the side and wait.

“He prescribed a mix of herbs, which I drank, but that didn’t work. He also suggested I drink more goat’s milk.”

I raise an eyebrow at the goat milk suggestion, pressing my lips together to keep from laughing.

Daniel shrugs. “Apparently, goats are hornier than cows or something.”

I can’t contain it anymore. I burst out laughing. He’s totally fucking with me.

“And he also said to try dancing naked in the moonlight on a deserted beach before…you know,” he trails off, grinning.

I take his hand and make him look at me. I’m pretty sure he thinks this condition is real, but I think it’s all in his head. Just like I know telling me this has to be a huge fucking blow to his ego.

But seriously, the guy is a fucking sex god. Never in my life have I experienced anything like I have with him. He’s done me a huge favor by showing me what I’ve been missing.

Just like he’s doing me a huge favor with this baby bargain…if we ever seal the deal, that is.

Time for me to return those favors.

“I’ll help you find a cure somehow,” I promise him, and I fucking mean it. Because you know what? Finding the ‘cure’ for this sounds like a whole lot of fucking fun.

And like a whole lot of fucking.

I’m so up to the challenge.